Commuter

Trigger warning: violence

Today’s the day I change.

I am weary from marching through the endless drudgery that my life has become. I wake up in a house of people who don’t really see me, who don’t know who I truly am. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better to remain in the shadow of my life and not face the uncertainty of acceptance. This is better than rejection, after all, right?

“Good morning, sweetie,” she says. “I hope you slept well.”

I hear her voice and smile. I say something in return. What was it? Did I tell her I loved her?

“I don’t want to go to school, I have a stomachache. Please let me stay home.”

He always has a stomachache. Why does he hate school so much? Why does it have to be a fight every morning to get him ready? I hope he doesn’t view his life the way I view mine. He has a chance to be so much more than I am. I should talk to him. My watch buzzes.

“You better go so you don’t miss your train,” she says while handing me a bagel. “Have a great day. I love you.”

I kiss her cheek and turn to leave. She is good to me, good for me. I don’t want to lose her.

The train is late again. The people around me are talking about how the city needs to invest the money into improving…blah blah blah. It arrives. I step in and grab a rail near the door. There are plenty of open seats, but I prefer to stand. Keeping my balance distracts me from what’s in my head. My head, now there’s a place I really don’t want to be.

It’s a ten-minute walk to my desk from the station. I must run, or I’ll be late. Like me, my boss doesn’t care about the problems in public transportation. He just wants me at my desk. I make it on time, although I fantasize about being late and getting fired. That would really force me to change. At least it would be different. I put my headset on and start making calls.

“I am struggling right now,” the voice on the other end of the phone says. “Can you people please stop calling me? This is harassment. Don’t you have anything better to do with your life?”

He drives a car that I can’t even afford to look at, and I’m supposed to feel sorry for him? I pick up a pen with my right hand and press it into my left forearm.

At noon, I walk across the street to a hot dog cart. I look in my wallet and find three dollars. Damnit. I have enough time to go to the ATM around the corner. As I finish entering my pin code, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Take out all you can,” he whispers.

I turn to look at him. Hat. Sunglasses. Gun. I punch the keys to show my account balance. Two hundred thirteen dollars.

“Hurry up, get it all.”

Today’s the day I change.

When he reaches past me to grab the money, I reach to grab his gun. The sound of the shot echoes off the brick-walled apartment buildings that climb high above us. I twist my hand. The gun fires again. He falls to the ground, clutching his gut in one hand and a few twenty-dollar bills in the other. I’m holding the gun. It feels like a toy. How could something so small cause so much pain? Pain. Searing pain. I look at my chest. Blood. My knees give out and I fall. I’m looking right at him now. His sunglasses are broken, and I can see his eyes. They say what I’m thinking: why?

Darkness.

I’m lying in the back of a vehicle. I hear sirens. A man and a woman are hunched over my body working feverishly on bandages and a breathing mask. We come to a stop and the back doors open. Hands pull on my bed and I’m in the sunlight again. The sky is still blue, it doesn’t even care about me.

I’m in a bright hallway. Cold air hits my cheek, and more people are around me. We’re moving quickly, but I can’t see anything other than the ceiling and their faces. Would they be trying so hard to save me if they knew who I really was inside? They put a different mask on my face.

Darkness.

It’s bright. I blink a few times and see lights. I see a face I know. It’s her. She’s crying. I feel her hand softly touching mine. I can’t feel the pain anymore. I can’t feel anything anymore, except her hand. I do love her. I don’t want to die. A tear drips from her cheek and falls onto my arm.

I look down and see blood. I pressed the pen too hard again. I grab a bandage from the top drawer of my desk and wrap it around my arm. I’m going to have to come up with an excuse for this tonight. My watch buzzes.

I walk back to the station in the dark. The train is late, again, always. The same people utter the same complaints as I balance and try to stay out of my head.

I open the door and see her face. She smiles. No tears.

We eat dinner together. She tells me about what happened at the diner. He talks about the fun things he did at school and that he made a new friend on the playground. I listen and smile.

Bedtime. I lead him to his room and read a chapter from our book. It’s really getting good. He is so precious. He fights to stay awake, but sleep wins.

I climb into bed with her. She is looking at her phone. She places it down to lay next to me and we hold each other. We make love. She drifts to sleep. I kiss her forehead, then roll over and stare at the wall.

Tomorrow’s the day I change.