The Reason and the Unforgettable Revelation

 The determination to walk away from her is sky-high. You can’t erase the images from your mind, and the power behind them is enough to amplify an entire city with hot electricity. And, as her lies echo around inside your mind, you walk briskly through the train station, suitcase in hand, a vulgar sense of dread and betrayal swirling in your stomach.

If only you hadn’t come home early that day to surprise her with an early birthday gift. But you had. You just had to ruin everything by thinking of her, and getting her that sparkling ruby-red heart pendant she had seen in the window last weekend at the jewelry store. Fuck.

Your phone buzzes, and you check your screen. There she is. Begging, trying to make a fool out of you. 

“Don’t do it, Son,” you whisper under your breath. “Just let her go.”

The image of her eyes closed, being caressed and fondled from behind, by a man you’ve never seen before, dances in front of your vision, making it almost impossible to navigate through the crowded station. Heat blazes across your face and temples, and you can hear your broken heart thumping at a hazardous rate inside your chest, your adrenaline racing. 

I should have hurt them both, you think. You shake your head and inhale deeply, trying to rid your mind of the dark, horrid thoughts. Exhale. No.

You make your way towards your train to Who-the-fuck-cares. It was the first one coming in, so you take it. You take a seat across from an old man who weakly nods towards you, not really meeting your eye, just as the doors close, and the announcement on the speaker comes on. 

Heading to Houston.

Oh just great, you think. Make my day even better. The sarcasm in your thoughts alone practically raises your eyebrows.

“Is this seat taken?” a soft voice beside you asks. You nearly jump in your skin. You were so lost in thought, you hadn’t heard her walk up next to you.

“Uh, no, no its not,” you respond, removing your small brown suitcase from the seat.

She smiles at you, and suddenly you feel distracted. She’s very pretty. Long, light brown hair and piercing green eyes. You catch yourself lost in them for just a second too long, and with a strenuous effort, you break your stare.

“Thank you,” she replies as she takes the seat, smiling at you. 

She looks out the window, almost as if she is looking for someone, but doesn’t find them. Disappointment clouds her emerald green eyes, and you find yourself looking out the window, too, wondering what she was trying to find.

“All things happen for a reason,” the old man sitting across from them suddenly states.

When you look at him, you find he is staring right at you. Puzzled, you just sort of smile at him and nod your head, questioning if the man is suffering from Alzheimer’s or some other mind-debilitating disease. Out of courtesy more than anything else, you say nothing.

But the woman next to you chooses to answer. “Yes, this is very true. Even though sometimes it is not easy to accept.”

“Like right now,” says the curious man.

You then wonder if these two already knew each other before boarding the train. 

You can’t help but ask. You turn to her, trying to sound casual. “Is he your grandfather?”

The old man laughs before she can respond. “Dear boy, I would most likely have to be her great-great grandfather.” He chuckles again.  

To you, she says, “No, I thought maybe you two were here together.”

You discreetly shake your head.

The old man laughs again. Then suddenly, getting very somber, he says, almost in a whisper, “Ever wonder why good things sometimes backfire on us?”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up a bit. What the hell is with this guy? It is beginning to creep you out. You sense that the woman is also a little perturbed by the man’s change in demeanor. 

He doesn’t wait for an answer but, instead, continues, “Because things aren’t always what they seem, is why.”

Annoyed, you glance at your watch. Three hours to Houston. 

This is going to be one hell of a long train ride, you think to yourself.

“What do you mean by that?” the woman next to you asks him, her gorgeous features slightly perplexed.

The old man pulls out a handkerchief and blows his nose. Your already disturbed stomach tightens at the sound of it. 

As the old man places the handkerchief in his pocket, he carefully considers his answer. “If you are doing the good and right thing, and something bad seems to come of it, you have to realize that whatever that bad thing is, it isn’t as bad of a thing as what would have occurred if you hadn’t done the good thing first.” He coughs and pulls out his handkerchief again.

Your mind does a 180-flip while somersaulting out of 747 jet 20,000 feet too high in the air. “Say what, now?!” you exclaim.

The young man relaxes in his seat a little, his face less intense, and a slight smile on his lips.

“Think about it.” The old man turns to the pretty lady and says, “If you hadn’t helped your sister, you never would have known that your fiancé was a viscous, hostile, criminal.” And to you he says, “And if you hadn’t bought your lady that fine gift--“

“Hold on!” you interrupt, before he has a chance to say it. “How do you know about that? That just happened an hour ago.”

The old man was silent for a moment. “Young man, as a person ages, they do get wiser. They... can see things that other people don’t notice.” He casually tosses his hands about as he speaks, which for some reason agitates you a little.  As if it’s no big deal.

“And, considering how old I am, then it only makes sense that I know what I know,” he continues.

That’s it. This guy is a fucking lunatic. You sit back and say nothing.

But of course, she has to ruin the silence. “You don’t seem all that old to me,” she retorts, but in a kind manner. 

The old man chuckles.

Annoyed, you take your phone out and read the last message again: “Please don’t do this. I can explain. Please don’t go! It’s not what you think!”

Lies. ALL LIES. It was exactly what you thought. For a moment, you debate whether to answer her, but instead you put your phone back in your pocket. 

Perturbed, and a bit confused, you ask the old man, “But what if the ‘good thing’ that you did isn’t worth it? What if you rather would not have done it at all, because the bad thing that resulted is just too much?” You wonder if you even made any sense to the old man.

Without hesitation, and in a serious tone once again, the old man says, “There are no absolutes. Usually, the bad thing isn’t as bad as the thing that would have happened if you hadn’t done the good thing first. But in your case, however, it’s because the thing that you thoughtwas good, which was your relationship with her, is no way near as good of a relationship as the relationship you are about to have with her.”

His eyes land upon the beautiful woman sitting next to you.