The Train Home

Karina fumbled furiously for her keys, her bag was a horrid mess. A boiling pot of old notes, some useless papers, crude poems and stories, candy wrappers and a lot of other things she just couldn't bring herself to throw away, a lot of them useless really. A soft drop of rain landed on her forehead as she felt the smooth rectangular card at the bottom of the mess. She hurried into the station.



Safe and away from the rain, Karina felt for her cellphone and shoved two red earpieces into her ears. Beethoven was always good on a day like this. She sat herself in the nearest seat she could find and tried her best to relax, just think about the ocean, she told herself. Book reports to submit and article deadlines to meet, she hardly knew how she was going to cope with it all. Stacy her friend always said that most of the problems Karina had were only in her head, maybe the pretty blonde was right.



The struggle of trying to finish a book that she had been writing for nearly two years was stifling her. Endings are always the hardest someone had said once. She was having a hard time putting an end to it all, writing that final chapter that would make everything else make sense. Those final words, are supposed to be magical, aren't they? Explain it all and at the same time make one wonder what kind of mind had conjured that type of magic. She had read endings like that, endings that simply made her care and truth be told she was starting to question if she had anything of that sort in her. She couldn't just be a good writer that made you smile, no, she had to be great...and take your breath away.



The people on the train home were always the same. Grey middle aged men in grey trench coats, university students with their headphones on and her, she was not really certain where it was that she fit in but she had always been different and it hardly bothered her. The train made its first stop and Karina realised how warm it had become, and would have opened the window if not for the seat that was in her way.

The boy next to her was busy on his iPhone and seemingly oblivious to all else around him, he was not listening to any music, Karina was grateful for that.



"Hi," she would say, "could you please open the window." No that wasn't right. How about, "could you please crack that open a little bit." She could have laughed then but she covered it in a rather awkward cough.

She always practised her conversations first if she could help it, things hardly ever came out as they were planned however. Come on Karina, she thought, it's a window not a marriage proposal. He was dressed very well, she thought, his black shirt was buttoned to the last and went well with his black jeans. That jacket was quiet fashionable as well, not that she knew much about fashion in her blue jeans and black coat.



"Hey," she said, her voice so raspy and crude she had to cough. For a moment she thought he hadn't heard until with an almost slow motion, he picked up his gaze from his iPhone and responded with a prompt 'hey'.



"Could you please….crack ummm the window. I mean crack it open" goodness why she even bothered to practise was beyond her.



"Cool" he said and stood up to open the upper window, with what she imagined was a very deliberate slow motion, but he pulled it off effortlessly.



"That better?" He asked, running his free hand through his thick brown hair with its traces of gold here and there like spun sun rays, not that she was staring or anything.



"Yes thats better." She managed to say, well atleast she didn't have time to think about it first. She would have tried to say something witty and it would have come out atrocious. Now she was just content with settling into the awkward silence, for she had paused Beethoven, and watching the boy return to his IPhone. At close observation, he seemed to be of her age really, if not a bit older or was that just her mind trying to justify itself?



A few rain spatters fell in through the open window and landed on he lap. Within minutes larger spatters began crashing in, Karina felt the urge to stand up and close the window but she was of average height and the window was too high up. Should she ask him to close it? Goodness Karina, you are just great aren't you? She thought.



"The rain just won't stop will it?" He complained, although it was rather lost when it was said with a smile like that. He closed the window and dropped his iPhone into his fashionable jacket.



"Yes," she said, what it was she was agreeing wiyh she was not certain and then "Thank you"



That smile again, his eyes shone green like emeralds.



"I'm Joe, " he said, his hand was warm and soft when she touched it.



"Karina," she told him, she must have looked hideous trying to decide whether a smile would be appropriate or not, she decided it was.



"Interesting name." He confessed, she laughed. Goodness I have the weirdest laugh, she thought.



"Yea, it's like Karen only….more exotic." Karina said, in truth she was named after her great grandmother, she had been a writer as well.



"A devious old poet who just refused to get into the ground." Her father had often joked, and she had laughed. She tells this to Joe and he laughs too.



"So you are a writer?" She nods "What do you write?"



What did she write? She wrote poetry when she was sad, articles when she was broke and short stories when she was bored. She was writing a fantasy book, she could have said, but she had written some historical fiction too.



"I write fiction." She said, that seemed like a reasonable answer. "But I write articles for The Branch from time to time and the  sort of blurted out the rest.



"I thought you would be a poet like your great grandmother, you seem like one."



Ah yes, it's the natural curly hair and the lack of make up. Or is it the dark caramel skin and the freckled cheeks, either way she knew what he meant or atleast thought she did and told him as much.



"No," he laughed "It's that, that proclivity for a vivid description of everything. Isn't that way poets are? People that find beauty in the world and put it into words."

She smiled, ah she liked this one she realised.



"You are right." She confessed, but it's not just beauty the beauty that can be put into words, although she only said:

"Poetry can be terrible." And hoped he understood.



' "I love you like all dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul." That's terrible isn't it? But it's still beautiful.' He ran his fingers through his hair again and grinned.

She could have argued the issue further but hard as it may be, even she knew when to hold her tongue and smiled



"It stopped raining." She pointed out. It had grown dark as well and the city lights could be seen through the wet glass. The streets would be slippery and treacherous after heavy rain, atleast she had the good sense to wear sneakers.



"It has. I visited Paris once and it rained all weekend. I mean if you are gonna visit Paris atleast have the good sense to pick the right season."

Was he trying to impress her, she wondered, no he didn't seem the type.



"I'm sure Paris is still Paris in the rain."



"You are funny," he joked "but it is a beautiful city."



"And I will visit it one day, when there isn't so much to do."



"You should, Paris would look good on you." He smirked and she was glad that her ears were safely hidden behind the tragedy that was her hair, for they would be as red as beet juice.



"I'm sure it looks good on everybody then." That was really smooth Karina, goodness she could be as thick as a brick. But he only laughed, he had a queer laugh.



"No, not everybody." He said, "So when is your book coming out?"



"Hopefully before the winter. I'm having trouble with the ending."



"They say endings are hard, I'm not a writer I wouldn't know. What trouble are you having?" He asked, genuinely interested. No one she knew had any genuine interest in her book troubles, so she told him. She told him about her search for the magic, right down to the part where she took your breath away. It all sounded a bit ridiculous when said out loud but he did not laugh. He was silent for a while, as if to try and process it all. The he said:



"I dont know Karina, it sounds to me like you spent two years creating this world and writing this story and for the past three months you've been stuck in one place. Maybe, maybe you don't want to finish it." How dare he say that? Of course she wanted to finish it.

"This book has been a part of your life for a long time. When you publish it, it's not just yours anymore, it belongs to everybody else that reads it. Maybe, you don't want to give it away."



No that could not be true. Writing was vanity, but part of that vanity was giving it to the world and seeing their reaction, wasn't it? She had not worked as hard as she had just to be selfish, no.



"I think you might be right, maybe I don't want to finish it." He waited for her to continue. "But not because I'm selfish but because I'm afraid."



"What are you afraid of?"



"Failure, what if the world doesn't love it? What if it's not as good as I think it is?"



"What if it is? You won't know until you finish it and stop searching for magic that is already in you."



"You don't even know me." She laughed.



"Sure I do," he sniggered "you are Karina, named after your great grand mother. You write poetry when you are sad and you are confident and self conscious at the same time. You want to go Paris and you want to take my breath away."



For the first time in a very long time, Karina did not know what to say. Then the train stopped and the doors flung open. Joe picked up his bag from beneath the seat and shuffled to his feet.



"This is my stop. Hope to meet you again exotic Karen." His hand was warm and soft against hers.



"I look forward to that Joe." Although it was very unlikely, at last he let go off her hand and again that smile, goodness.

She watched him walk out on to the platform and listened to rail wheels heat up against the train track, she closed her eyes and laid her head back into the seat, feeling desolate. There was a bang on the window and she shook up. The sleeves of his fashionable jacket had been rolled up and his emerald eyes were on fire. Karina leaped on the window seat and opened the glass right as the train began moving.



"I'll be waiting for that book Karina." He shouted.



"Before the winter!" She shouted back, "I found my ending." And indeed she had.