The Crossing

Staring off into the distance, and somewhat mesmerized by the flashing lights in front of him, Bill slowly pulled up and stopped at the boom gates.

Even the drone of the morning disc jockey in the background, wasn’t enough to break his concentration.

He had always tried his best to avoid this route, and as the traffic lined up behind him, he knew his choice this morning was going to make him late for work. 

As the crossing bells rang out, he leant over to adjust the radio in an attempt to drown out their warning, then casually glanced up at the train as it moved across in front of him. 

Observing the scores of passengers as they passed by, he thought to himself, ‘they are all like shop store mannequins just staring at nothing’,

Gradually the train began to slow to a crawl, and as Bill watched it move closer and closer to the station, suddenly something caught his eye. 

It was a small boy, sitting at the window, and as the train passed, the boy turned and looked towards him, raising his hand as if to wave. 

Now in shock, Bill continued to watch as the train entered the station, and as such; his view of the boy was now obscured, as he disappeared out of site. 

Sitting there motionless, and in a daze, as the boom gates rose up in front of him, he was suddenly shocked into action, by the sound of car horns blasting out behind him.  

Accelerating off through the level crossing, he turned wildly into a series of side streets, looping back around the block, in the hope of arriving at the station where the train would be pulling in. 

By the time he had made his way through this maze, all that was to be seen as he pulled up in the car park, was the last of the carriages disappearing out of sight and down the track.

‘Please, please no,” he yelled, as he pounded his fists on the steering wheel in frustration. 

That night as he lay in bed unable to sleep, he turned on the bedside lamp and reaching into the drawer, pulled out a photo album.

Gently opening it, he slowly flipped through the pages, until he found what he was looking for.

Slowly picking up the photograph he looked at it for a moment, then putting his head back on the pillow, closed is eyes to sleep, as the tears began to roll down his cheeks.  

The next morning, found him waiting again back at the crossing, he had pushed his way through the busy traffic, and had luckily timed it right to be the first one at the gates. 

With lights flashing and bells ringing, he waited anxiously as the train eventually came rolling into view.  

‘Where is he, where is he,’ he yelled to himself anxiously.

Then the boy appeared, he was seated in a different carriage this time, but like the day before, he looked at Bill and held up his hand and waved. 

This time, Bill didn’t wait, he reversed his car up slightly, then performing a U turn, roared off back the way he had come at breakneck speed. 

Aggressively blasting his horn, he waved at cars to get out of the way, as he sped on, in the hope of getting to the station from the other side of the line, before the train arrived. 

Pulling up in the carpark, he leaped out of his vehicle and pushing past the morning commuters, raced up on to the platform just as the train began to roll to a stop. 

As he frantically ran up and down the platform searching each carriage for the boy, scores of confused faces peered back at him totally oblivious to his dilemma.

Turning to a porter standing on the platform, Bill yelled, ‘Where is the boy, where is the boy’.

“What boy,’ asked the porter totally confused.

‘The boy on the train, I just saw him now, while I was over there waiting at the crossing,’ exclaimed Bill. 

Looking at him with bewilderment, the Porter replied, ‘Man, no one ever gets off at this station.’  

‘That can’t be,” replied Bill, “I saw him, I know I saw him,” as tears slowly welled in his eyes. 

“He’s my son, I need to take him home.” 

Turning slowly, he hunched his shoulders and quietly sobbed to himself as he made his way back to the car.   

-----------------------------

Walking through the front door of the hospital like he had many times before, Bill turned and headed for the lift.  

Reaching his chosen floor, he exited, and as usual, politely nodded to the nurses at the counter, as he made his way through to the end of the ward.  

Entering a room brightly lit by the morning sun, he quietly walked up to a young man seemingly asleep in the bed, and gently kissed him on the forehead. 

Pulling up a chair, he sat down beside the bed, and then taking the young man’s hand in his, began talking to him in a soft voice. 

‘I saw you the other day, you were on the train, I know it was you because you waved at me.’  

Just then, the ward sister, and the duty nurse doing their rounds that morning, stopped at the room and politely waited outside the door.

As they stood there watching slightly out of view, the sister smiled then said. 

‘You know, he has never missed one Saturday, he’s always here, bright and early.”

“Actually, last week he stayed so late that we had to eventually ask him to leave.” 

“Who is he,” asked the nurse, who was recently new to the ward.

“That’s Bill,” said the Ward Sister, “and the young man is his son, he was badly injured in a train accident, when he was 13 years old, and has been in a coma ever since, it is really quite sad.”

Looking over to the Nurse, she said with a smile.

“Let’s give them some time together, we’ll come back later,” and with that they both turned and carried on down the hallway.