The Train leaving New York

Ruth dusted off the bits of snow that fell through the small cracks in the overhang so Teresa could sit down. Teresa was a woman of many hair colors, often dying her soft short curls ginger one week and brunette the next. Most days she smells of ammonia and lemon from the tea she drinks every morning. Her heavy-set figure meant she waddled a bit with each step yet she hadn’t cared to lose an ounce of weight, despite being like this her entire life. “If I was all bones I’d freeze to death!” she’d say whenever Ruth voiced her unease about Teresa’s health.

Sometime in late November, Teresa had to begin walking with a cane after a group of young boys pushed her down the last few steps leading to her small apartment. She only fractured a few things but completely broke her pride. Due to humiliation, Teresa hid in her room for weeks. Ruth rushed to Virginia, taking the 7 hour train to fetch Teresa and take her to her home in New York.

“I’m fine to sit in a bit of snow,” Teresa said, throwing her red scarf over her shoulder.

“Always so proud,” Ruth joked. She took out her handkerchief from her plaid wool coat and coughed into it.

“I’m not proud. I’m not made for this weather,” Teresa sat down with a groan.

“Why won’t you stay just a few weeks longer? The weather will be much softer on you in the coming month.”

“I have already overstayed my welcome, Ruth.”

“Who decided that? Sure as hell wasn’t me.”

“I can tell by the way your husband looks at me. He wants me gone. He never wanted me around in the first place. Not when you first started dating, not when you got married, not when you had Theodore—”

“I get it Teresa,” Ruth bit.

Silence fell between them as soft, slow, flecks of snow drifted down and across the train platform. It began to collect on Ruth's shoulders and beret. Teresa watched as Ruth’s breath billowed in front of her face, crisp and uniform against the frigid air. Ruth stepped to the edge of the platform and looked down the tracks and back at Teresa.

“You remember when I just had Theodore, and you came to visit me? I hadn’t seen you in seven years,” Ruth laughed under her breath at the thought.

“We didn't greet each other. Skipped all the formalities. Went straight to talking.” Teresa smiled.

“We must have talked for three days straight. If you think I worry about you now---if you could measure my unease back then it would stretch to every corner of this city!”

“Worried? What for?”

Ruth crossed her arms, uncrossed them and said, “I worried you were lonely. I wanted you to meet a nice man, have a boy or two. Be like me.” Ruth coughed again into her handkerchief.

“Like you? Ruth, I think you might be the loneliest woman I know. I never married because there was never anyone of their right mind.” Teresa rested her hands atop the handle of her cane. She shook her head, opened her mouth only to close it again. “All the things the world doesn’t know—I don’t know what it’d do to me if it’d come to know them,” she continued, softly, almost like the words scratched her throat as she spoke.

“I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“Things happen to me everyday.”

They both looked toward the far end of the tracks, listening for the train. Ruth stood near the edge of the platform, her gloved hand curled tightly around the balled up handkerchief, damp from use. “I’ll curse the boys that did this to you till my last breath,” Ruth swore, eyes still following the tracks.

“You have snow in your hair,” Teresa gestured for Ruth to come to her.

Teresa ungloved her hand and gently wiped the flakes of snow off. She took her thumb and ran it across Ruth's eyelashes, silent except for the rhythm of the two women breathing in the cold. Ruth pulled away to cough, her body moving with each rasp.

“I’m old,” Teresa whispered. “If I had been 30 years younger, I would have shown those boys just who I am!” She laughed. “Theres no need to worry. I am just old.”

Ruth chuckled but it came out as tense. “When did we both get so old?”

“Time truly is a thief.”

“I think to myself, ‘if only I had been born more like Teresa’. I would have been far more brilliant. You are a brilliant woman.” She lifted the end of Teresa's red scarf, gripped it between her fingers like a tether. “So bright.”

It was then the low, deep, blare came from the incoming train.

“The train,” Ruth whispered.

“The train,” Teresa repeated.

Ruth extended her hand to Teresa, who did not take it. Teresa groaned as she lifted herself. With Teresa's bags in Ruths hands, they both walked alongside one another to the edge of the platform.

The train came to a slow stop, the wheels screeching against the metal track. Steam from the hot engine coated the platform. Teresa stepped onto the train. Ruth set her bags down next to her. They stared at each other for a moment, both waiting for the other to speak first.

Ruth brushed a bit of snow off Teresa's shoulder, adjusted her coat so it buttoned on the way to the top.

“I’m not a child, Ruth,” Teresa said as Ruth fastened the last button.

“It’s not just about me being a mother. That’s not how I feel about you.” Teresa waited for Ruth to continue, but Ruth hung her head, gripped her handkerchief tightly in her palm.

“Sometimes you say everything but the things that matter. You always tell me nothing at all. Seems like you don’t want anyone to know,” Teresa said.

Ruth coughed once more. She clawed at her coat, holding her handkerchief to her heart.

“I want you to stay,” she said. “When you’re not there I feel bare. All I do is wash dishes so hard the patterns scrape off. I’m stuck in shades of gray, Teresa. You are what makes me a lonely woman,” she whispered between the gaps of her teeth. “I’ll have nothing to leave behind. Nothing to last at all. No brightness or color.”

The train honked, letting passengers know it was time to leave. Teresa and Ruth looked at each other. There were no words needed, they both already knew.

Teresa unraveled her scarf around her neck and draped it over Ruth's hands, gently, like the fabric was something holy. Ruth wrapped her fingers around the scarf, held it close to her.

With that, Ruth stepped back from the train.

Teresa waved through the window. Ruth waved back, letting the scarf drape and flow through the wind. The fabric twisting and billowing, like a flag in the sky.