The Woman on the Train

I’ve always loved trains. The smell is awful and the crowds make me claustrophobic, but something about being nobody in a sea of nobodies brought a sort of tranquility which could only be found on places like the internet. There were dozens, maybe a hundred people confined in a single small space, but at the same time, every train was empty. Everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere, in a different place and time.

The train rumbled loudly, winding out of a tunnel and into the open sunshine as light streamed in through the windows. I took this route everyday to get home, a familiar and comfortable trek. An audio book played in my ears but I wasn’t paying very much attention. It was just something to pass the time.

I preferred watching the people. The train was crowded, the afternoon rush of people heading home overpowering any preference for personal space and delicacy. People pushed their way through the doors, standing around the exits. The smarter people stood in the middle where there was a little extra breathing room, though they would need to stand up if anyone wanted to leave.

Across from me, a young man dressed in business casual attire. His headphones also over his ears while scrolling through Reddit on his phone. I wondered what he was listening to, if he was listening to anything at all. More likely than not, he had the headphones as a prop so the occasional solicitor or homeless person wouldn’t bother him.

To my left, a middle-aged woman in her 50s was playing Soda Crush on her iPad, mindlessly swiping left or right. It occurred to me she either didn’t know how to play or she wasn’t paying very much attention. Several times where she could have won her game, she let the chance go to waste, never stopping to think about her moves. It was almost painful to watch.

The people I saw could have been anyone, and yet, they were no one. I didn’t know a thing about them but their stories were all mine to tell. I could make up anything in my mind. The man on Reddit was both a child who liked being a troll and a provider for his family. It brought a strange sense of exhilaration to rewrite an entire personality and history onto someone.

“Western. This stop is…Western.” The PA announced.

The door opened for the popular stop and my cart spilled out, the passengers practically trampling one another in their haste to transfer to an adjacent train or bus. A few people joined my car but it remained much emptier than before. We were nearing the end of the line and most of the people left on the train were headed to the airport.

A musical note alerted me to the doors closing.

Another woman sat down beside me, wheeling around a large, four-wheeled suitcase on her left. It moved every which way as she dug through her massive purse. She didn’t place it on the empty chair next to her, choosing instead to leave it on her lap as she dug around inside.

She was pretty, in a subdued way, with little makeup and a neat collared blue dress. It occurred to me she didn’t need to use this particular seat. There were plenty of empty chairs now that we had passed Western and she could have chosen a more isolated location for all of her belongings.

The young woman smiled pleasantly as she moved her things around to make more room for herself, “Nice day, isn’t it? Feels like an early summer.”  

There was a short silence as I registered, she was talking to me. I muttered a quick response, unsure what to say. “Yeah…It’s been raining a lot lately.”

The woman nodded, firmly settling into her seat as she continued to dig through her bag. “Mhm. But that’s what you expect in a city like this. So dark and dreary all the time. It's been a cold winter. It makes me appreciate the sunny days like today.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. The woman was in her mid to late thirties and her demeanor screamed office receptionist. She was on the skinnier side, with wavy hair tied neatly into a bun. A pair of painful-looking heels clicked on the floor of the car.

“Where are you headed?” She asked innocently. The question caught me off guard. Passengers didn’t talk to one another on the train very often, and it was strange she was trying to make conversation with me when she was busy looking for something.

“Just heading home from school.” I responded simply. It felt uncomfortable to ignore her. She wasn’t being rude or creepy or anything. Perhaps just a little too friendly, but that wasn’t such a bad thing when people rarely talked face to face anymore.  “What about you? Where are you headed?

“I’m heading to the airport for a flight.” She said cheerfully.

That much was obvious. She was carrying enough luggage to go away for months. “That’s nice. Are you going on vacation?”

“No. I’m running away because I killed my husband.”

My fingers started to tingle and a strange chill crept up my spine. The rumbling of the train disappeared and a white noise filled my ears as if an explosion had just gone off and the aftershock was impeding my hearing.

“I’m sorry. What did you say again?”

“I just killed my husband earlier.” She repeated, equally as cheerful as before. Her eyes weren’t shrewd or calculating and no one else on the train even turned to look at her.

“Cumberland. This stop is…Cumberland.”

Without responding to the woman’s outrageous statement, I bee-lined for the opening doors, turning back to look at her only when I was safely on the platform. She didn’t turn to look at me. Her head was bent downwards to her phone. A pair of earbuds obscuring anything someone could say to her.

For a brief second I forgot about our exchange and all I saw was another person on the train. Someone getting off from work after a tiring Friday. Someone who could have been anyone.