Earth Day

The old man was surprised. He stood inside the train, by the door, surveying the crowd before him. He looked around for an empty seat but couldn’t find one. 

The Throwback Train never had this many passengers before. Now, the car is full of people of all heights and shapes—tall and skinny, small and round, not-so-tall but stocky, withered, flawless, even tiny and not-yet-5. 

He stared at the last one with close to sadness (his feelings had become more unrecognizable over the years). She had soft curly hair and was playfully hopping around. He wondered what happened to her.

“Excuse me,” a young man behind him spoke. “Can you move a little bit, Sir, so I could pass?” 

The old man walked a few steps to the middle of the car as several passengers continued to board the train. The young man, wearing a purple and gold jersey with the number 24, pushed past him. He was tall and lean and walked with a certainty common among persons with purpose. The old man wondered for a second if he had ever walked that way. He doesn’t even remember how to walk. It’s been a very long time.

The old man inched toward one of the handlebars on the side of the car, remembering slightly his painful movement of the past; the pain, though, is now non-existent. It doesn’t “feel” that way in the limbs, at least. He knew he would be fine. He just needed something to hold on to. 

“Excuse me, Sir, you may have this seat.” The old man turned around and saw a middle-aged woman wearing a blouse and trousers and a doctor’s white coat. She had a redness at the center of her neck that looked like a scar. The woman gestured to an empty seat. She looked alert and very vivid. It must be quite recent.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He has stood the test of time; surely he can stand on this train.

“I insist, Sir,” the doctor smiled. 

Nodding, he moved slowly to the seat she offered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

Seated, the old man relaxed. He looked around the train car and the crowd, which seemed to have doubled during his slow journey from door to seat. He could finally focus on observing people. And that’s when he noticed there were many doctors and nurses on the train.

The lady doctor has disappeared. The man in the jersey had moved far from the door, now talking to some other man as tall as he. They reminded him of his favorite hometown basketball team. In front of him on the opposite row of seats was a family of six: parents, two teenagers, two children. To his left side were older people, some talking, some nodding to sleep, some staring in space. 

What bothered him were the children and the young people, the ones in their teens and 20s. There were too many of them on this train. When did it happen? How did it happen? And why are they going back? 

The curly haired girl of not-yet-5 found two other kids of her age, a boy and a girl. The three of them were playing, weaving in and out of people on the aisle. For a moment, the old man worried that they might get lost.

But, of course, they wouldn’t. No one gets lost in this train.

The lights on the panel suddenly turned on and the train’s engine came to life. The familiar beep-beep-beep of the alarm sounded and, after a minute, all the doors closed. The temperature dropped to a comfortable level (exactly what level, he couldn’t say). The passengers began to relax and settle down, even the children. Everyone seems to be looking forward to this trip. 

Including the old man. Especially the old man. It’s his granddaughter’s 18th birthday. He’s excited to see her and everybody. This is a special trip. This is a special year. Earth, here I come, he thought, feeling the slight shake of the train as it moved forward. He closed his eyes, and the train picked up speed. 

He opened his eyes and looked out the window. The train was rolling through a mountain range. The giant mounds rushed past in both left and right. He missed this scene—or the memory of it. 

Things seemed different now, even though he had come through this same path every year. He could see a lot more browns where there used to be greens; more loose soil and stone and fewer trees. He stared sadly at the sliced, flattened tops of the smaller mountains. He could see roofs and structures rising on them from a distance. He understands that there are more people building homes now outside of cities, but should mountains be leveled to do it?

A shriek from one of the children snapped him back to wakefulness. The three kids, led by the curly haired not-yet-5, have decided to take it easy. They were lying on the floor, talking. What do kids talk about these days, anyway? Whatever it was, it made the other girl (not shriek) giggle. 

The family in front was holding hands with eyes closed, probably praying. He finally spotted the lady doctor again, talking earnestly with one of the older adults. The two tall guys (one with the jersey) had fallen asleep standing. People in doctor’s coats (so he assumed they’re doctors, too) were all over the train, checking the passengers. ‘They don’t need to check me; I’m perfectly fine,’ he thought.  

An hour later, the Throwback Train pulled up at the Central Station. It’s one of the biggest in the city. He stood up slowly, and in an instant a hand grabbed his arm. He looked up to see the lady doctor back at his side, smiling again.

“Everything okay, Sir?” 

“All good, Doctor. My granddaughter is turning 18 today and I’m looking forward to seeing her.”

“That’s wonderful! Happy birthday to your granddaughter.” She assisted him to the door and went down the steps and onto the platform with him. She took him to the edge of the station that branches out to several streets.  “Well, this is as far as I can go. I’m walking the other way. Take care, Sir.”

The old man waved goodbye and entered one of the streets. Soon, he found himself standing in front of the structure he loved most in his life. It looked the same but different, if that’s even possible. He gazed proudly at the modern ranch-style house he built, with its overhanging roof, wood shingles, carport and porch, and a lawn that had always been lush and colorful back in the day. 

Some shingles had been replaced, he could tell. And some trees in the front yard had been cut. The house had also been repainted, but the flowering bushes remained. The driveway had been washed. The grass was wet. The house gleamed. 

“It’s too big for us, honey,” his wife Elaine had said when he first showed her the house. She loved it, but worried about living in it, just the two of them. 

“Don’t you worry yourself, my dear. You will have lots of company in time, I promise,” he had told her, with a glint in his eye. 

It was not a difficult promise to keep. The house had written the stories of all their five kids, witnessing endless birthdays, christenings, first days of school, proms, graduations, Halloween trick-or-treats, Thanksgivings, and Christmases. She had lots of company, indeed, while he was away, working to give them a life. 

Working. He waited for this memory to make his heart ache, but he couldn’t remember how that felt. It’s been a long time. 

As the old man stood in front of the yard, the French doors of the living room slid open, and a middle-aged man stepped out of the living room and onto the porch. Vincent. His son didn’t seem to have aged. He was clean-cut, clean-shaven, and wearing a dark suit. Vincent, his youngest son, the father of the birthday girl. A slight tug in his heart? This is new. 

Vincent was the most devastated of all his children. They had lost their mother three years before he left. Vincent was graduating from law school that year and was looking forward to seeing his father in the crowd when he went up on the stage. 

Vincent was supervising men carrying seats and tables to the yard and moving potted plants to the sides. The men were arranging the tables and chairs, laying out table linen, place mats and tablecloths. Which was odd. Are they holding the debut party in the yard? Why? Vincent had wanted his daughter to celebrate her birthday in the clubhouse. The old man had heard that much last year, when he was spying on them in the city. Why aren’t they holding it in the clubhouse?

He moved nearer to the men, who are now arranging plates, bowls, utensils and cutlery. They were wearing black vests and pants and a black bow tie. Waiters! Vincent is definitely holding the party for Erin in the yard. He felt something like annoyance, but he’s not sure. ‘Does Vincent have a problem with money?’ he thought. ‘Why isn’t he giving his baby the party she deserves?’ 

“It’s because of the virus, Martin,” a soft, familiar voice spoke in his ear. 

He turned his head quickly and there she was. The love of his life. Standing before him, wearing the lovely dress he bought for her on their anniversary. The dress she wore in her funeral. “Elaine?! Can you read minds now?”

She laughed, that sing-song, rolling kind of laugh he misses. There’s no mistaking now the avalanche of emotions in him. He had never felt this way for a long time. Not in the last 25 years. 

“What virus?” Martin asked, sitting on his favorite chair in the wood-paneled living room, staring at the fireplace. He had been too emotionally weak earlier, Elaine decided to assist him inside the house to have a seat.

“The coronavirus. It’s called COVID-19 because it was discovered last year and is now a pandemic,” Elaine explained. “Many people have already died, Martin. People are not allowed to hold parties in restaurants or clubhouses because of the fast transmission of the virus.”

The old man had a pained expression. “Erin had wanted to have her party in the clubhouse.” Then he remembered something. “So the doctors and all those children on the train today, the virus got them?” 

She nodded. “The doctors and nurses can’t protect themselves. They’re in the hospital day and night. There are too many patients, and they are contagious. There’s always a risk.” 

“How do you know all these things, Elaine? How come I don’t? I’ve been looking for you and the children since the first year I came back to Earth.” He took her hands in his left and put his right palm on her cheek. “It took me 20 years to find all our children, did you know that?” 

He told her about Alexander and his family in Toronto; Charlotte, her husband and her delicatessen in Wellington; Sabine, now a record producer in London but still single; and Daniel and his family, who owns a car dealership in Florida. The old man found Vincent and his family only five years ago. They had been living in Singapore, and he had lost all traces of them. 

“But I couldn’t find you. I’m so sorry.” He bowed his head, crying, but there were no tears.

She embraced him. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” She stared into his eyes. “I had my Earth Day this year, last May. I visited Sabine for her birthday. But I asked to be given another day. Today.” 

“Is that possible? I thought we only get one day a year.”

“We do. But 2020 is different, Martin. Many of those who returned this year did not see their families anymore. COVID got their families before they could see them again.” 

“You wanted to see our children before…” 

She put her fingers on his lips, moving her head side to side. “I was allowed to return a second time. And I’m happy because we’re here today. Let’s enjoy the moment while we can.” 

The couple walked through the French doors to the small party outside. The yard was bright with firefly lights in the bushes and trees. Vincent’s family and Erin’s closest friends occupied five tables. Blooms from the garden acted as centerpieces. A long table stood near the stage, filled with food, drinks, and cake. 

Erin beamed from the makeshift stage, with a quartet beside her—her long-time friends on guitars and a keyboard, serenading the celebrant with her favorite songs. She sat in a decorated chair, lovely in a red and silver flowing dress. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun with strands of hair framing her face. 

“She looks so much like you, Elaine.”

She smiled again, and he missed her more. Over the past hour, the rush of emotions became more intense. He couldn’t explain it. It had been a long time—25 years—since he felt this way, about leaving his children. About dying and leaving his children with no parents. It had been very difficult to be the last parent to go, to have no one else to entrust them with. He had to make sure they were ready, even though he was not.

Just as Vincent took Erin’s hand for the father-daughter dance, Elaine laid her hand on Martin’s shoulder. “It’s time to go, honey.”

“What do you mean it’s time to go? The party’s not over.” 

Elaine searched his face. “You really did come here for the party.” 

“I did. Didn’t you?” he was surprised. “Since I learned that Erin is turning 18 today, I have asked to be granted today as my Earth day. I thought that’s the reason you’re here, too.”

Elaine was silent for a few seconds before speaking. “I came here for another reason. If you want to stay for the party, you can. But I have to go.”

“What is it? I want to know.”

“You don’t have to until you need to.”

“I want to be with you. We just saw each other. And I want to know what it is,” he insisted. 

“Then you have to come with me, now.” She began walking fast. “There’s no more time.”

The old man glanced one last time at his son and granddaughter dancing in the yard, then followed his wife. She was moving really fast now toward the train station. “Elaine, slow down!”

“I can’t! We have to be there. I can feel it.” He tried to move faster to catch up with her. She was almost at the station. He could see a train from afar. That is not the Throwback Train and it did not come from where he’s returning. It came from a different place. Elaine paused for just a bit to wave at him to move faster. He did. 

They ran up the steps to the platform just as the train rolled in. It’s not the Throwback; it’s a different train. It stopped and opened its doors. People started streaming out. Elaine began to pace back and forth on the platform. She was looking at the doors anxiously, her hand clasped together.

“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t answer. She kept on pacing and staring at the doors. He did the same but had no idea what he was looking for.

Then a woman in her 50s came down the steps. Martin stiffened and his wife let out a gasp. She ran to the woman and hugged her tightly, crying as she did. The woman embraced Elaine and sobbed.

Martin ambled to the women, hugging them both. The woman who came down from the train looked up. “Dad?” 

“Sabine!” he embraced his daughter tighter and cried as he never did before. 

The Throwback Train rolled past the same flat-topped mountains he saw earlier, going the opposite direction. “Why didn’t you tell me you asked to return to Earth today because she’s dying?” he asked Elaine.

“I only saw you today, remember? I had planned to pass by the house on my way to the station.” Her hand was on Sabine’s shoulder. Their daughter had fallen asleep.

“Is it COVID-19?” 

She nodded. “When I visited her last time, she seemed to have established a connection with me through her dreams. When she needs me, I hear her voice talking to me, telling me things.”

“I heard her three days ago. She said she was having difficulty breathing. She was infected. London is in a lock down. I heard her again last night, but I couldn’t understand her. She sounded weak. I knew she was dying. I asked to be allowed to come today. I wanted to be with her, just in case.”

Martin closed his eyes. “And here I was, excited about a birthday party...and my daughter was dying.”

“Sshhh. It’s fine now. We can all come back together on Earth day.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Martin.”

“I love you, Elaine.” 

The Throwback Train emerged from the tunnel and the old man saw his favorite place of 25 years now, with its beautiful lush hills and green mountains, golden valleys filled with a sprinkle of colorful flowers, blue sparkling springs, and everything he wanted to see.  Here, the emotions will fade. But next Earth day, when they visit their family again, he wants them back.