*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1576800
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: 13+ · Novel · Friendship · #1576800
This is what we all are looking for.
Chapter One

"Sweetie we can work things out!"
He yells as the sound track of my life plays 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs' String quartet version.
I slam the door shut trying to keep my breathing from becoming hectic as I slowly make my exit.
His footsteps follow mine.
I smile trying not to fall back into you.
"Oh,I know we can." I say as you catch up with me.
" Then why are you leaving?"
"Because darling." I say stepping into the line for train tickets.
"Because is not an answer." You say,gasping for breath.
"Because your the type of boy who gives me flowers when I do something wrong."
Your mouth stands gaping, a small O as I talk to the ticket girl.

"Where would you like to go ma'am?"
"What trains leaves now and is going the farthest?"
"A train leaves in two minutes to Chicago."
"Perfect.One,please."

Getting your jaw muscles to work you ask,"What's in Chicago??"
"Your not."
"But, baby, I mean, I'll stop giving you flowers,I'll do everything you want!"

The ticket girl laughs, " Forget it pal, grow a pair and leave the girl alone."
"Here you go! A ticket to the big bad city!"

I smile back," Thank You. How much do I owe you?"
"Forget it Hunny, I did this once. It was the best time of my life. Want your bags to be taken in?"

"Yes Thank You."

I turn to leave, your Prada shoes following on my heels.
Suddenly turning I yell after the girl.

"HEY!"
"Yes?"
"What Happened,I mean, did you find it?"

She pauses and smiles.
Behind her heavy eyeliner wisdom flashes.

"Yes, I guess I did."

I turn back and shove you away.
As I walk right onto the platform, and As I load the train, you grab me.

"Reconsider?"

I shake me head no.

" But, Michael, Thanks for the Memories."

The train pulls away, with me in it watching you run after it.
Until your nothing but a dot, on the same platform where we met.


Chapter Two

The train car sped off as my music slowly died.
All I had was a bunch of assorted clothing, a violin, a guitar, a keyboard, and a laptop.
If belongings had anything to say about a person, I was to say the least talented and poor.
The computer was at least three years old, the guitar case old, keyboard barely functional, the violin spotless.
It had been my mothers.
And a journal, newly bought.

I watched the man in front of me fiddle with his own laptop. Decided he bored me.
"So," He says lifting his eyes off the computer. " you going to continue staring or talk to me?"
He wasn't ugly, almost handsome if not for the attitude.

" I'm almost intrigued."
I answer from behind a pair of nine hundred dollar glasses bought of  a merchant for 25.
" Almost?"
" Yes why?"
" Well almost could mean anything. "
"Like?"
"Like for example, I'm much to young for you, Or in your case, much to beautiful."

I smile.
" Now, I'm scared to answer you."
"Oh, did I give that crazy stalker vive?"
"No. But you called me beautiful."
"You are." He grins at me, from his obviously Kmart Glasses.
" I'd rather not open my mouth and prove you wrong."

"I'm sure that brutal honesty will do."
His face become a rock.
" Why are you on train bound to Chicago?"

I whistle lowly.
"Brutal honesty Huh?" I say and nod my head.
" I woke up today in my live in boyfriends room and realized that life was going nowhere for me. If I didn't move, or do something big, I would wake up 5 years later with 3 kids, a border collie, a colonial and a doctor husband on antidepressants."

His stone wall face relaxes.
"So you just backed up and left? That takes guts, kid."
"No,not really just a couple shots and a quick train headed nowhere."
"Chicago is Hardly nowhere kid."
"How about you?" I ask.

He tenses his neck and rubs it before cracking it.
" I'm leaving my wife."
"Oh."
"No, not like that. She's been dead for 3 years. I..haven't left.I am now though."

"So your looking for it to huh?"
"Looking?"
'You, know the thing we don't know about till we find it?"
"Yeah, yeah kid. I think I am."

He laughs.

" How old are you?"
"24."
"35. At your age, I had no clue where I was going. Lucky, you seem to know exactly where."

Chapter Three

We talk.
You tell me all about your wife.
She was younger than me when she passed only 21. It make me wonder how she was  your wife.
"We rushed into marriage, I guess."
Still the numbers don't make sense. For a split second I wonder how much I value my life talking to a man I just met. On a train that I really just jumped on.

" I played violin to."
"Played?"
"My teacher would make me practice till my fingers bled and then some."
"Abusive?"
" But brilliant. At two she had been touring for a year!"
"Lies, told to make you play while your bandages bled?"
"Yes, but how'd you...?"
" Know?My mother was the same way."
'In your blood then?"
"Hardly I'm useless. Guitar however..."
"Great you'll fit right in to the night scene."
"Been to Chicago then?"
"Born in."
"Oh yeah? How'd you end up in Maine?"
"Wife loved the sea."

And so it goes on for hours. Short, quick answers with no real connection.
I began to feel my head getting heavy after a while and he notices.

" So last when you where thinking I bet you didn't sleep."
" It was in the morning,but no I didn't."
"Did you buy a room?"
"...i got in free."

At this Passenger Man laughs and says something along the lines of 'Sophie must have let you in!' or maybe Sophia.

"What's your name?"
Is all that connects anyway.
"Mine?"
He pauses and says,"It's true, you don't know. Well I'm Caleb."
I stick my hand out
"Bronx."
He shakes my hand.
"Interesting name.Bronx."

I must have fallen asleep.
It's the darkest part of the night when I wake up,and Caleb is gone.
Not to mention we are just pulling up to Union Station.
Just As I get up the train lurches and I fall flat on my back,low and behold Caleb is standing above me looking down.
"Nice panties."
"Holy Crap." I yelp and shove my skirt down.
He laughs and helps me up.
"Coffee?"
"Umm, yeah Thank you."
" Found a cheap old motel for you. One that doesn't charge per hour."
"Thank You. Again."
© Copyright 2009 Madelyn Devour (ghostofyou at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password:
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1576800