Familiar Strangers

The buildings were an imposing wall, blocking out the view of the next street over, their tops sharp and angled as they scraped the slate gray sky. They loomed all around the train, like doleful canyon walls scrutinizing a snaking basin river, but Diana Carmichael had to wipe the tears from her eyes and the fug of her breath from the window to see them at all.

She had never ridden the train before. It felt strangely cathartic, like a baby being rocked to sleep after a terrible crying jag. Steel on steel rumbled beneath her feet. The train’s jerky movement pulled at her ribcage and made her head wobble slightly on its hinge. All around her was evidence of lethargy: temples pressed against windows, hats pulled low, long sighs, and heavy-lidded eyes. It was the most comforted that Diana had felt since Dale died. She wished for a thick blanket and to never leave this warm womb for the dark, wet world outside.

But somewhere out there, in one of those remote buildings covered with slick glass and cold splatters of rain, was her son. It was sometimes hard for her now to call his face to her memory. She didn’t know why, but she strongly suspected it was simply a symptom of being old. What she could remember was the rigorous texture of Seth’s brassy curls, always a vast and unruly mop on top of his head, no matter what sort of haircut he had. She imagined him sitting at some fancy desk made from heavy, polished wood and running his hand distractedly through those curls, perhaps bunting a curt word at his secretary because she didn’t have the reports he wanted. Even after all this time, Diana wasn’t exactly sure what it was that Seth did for a living, but she knew that it involved copious amounts of other people’s money. She was sure it was stressful.

She’d tried calling. He was a difficult man to get ahold of.  

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you.  

But that was silly. She was his mother. Of course he wanted to talk to her. His work was demanding and wearisome and kept him busy. He also had that girlfriend…Trixie? Annie? Lanie? Oh hell, she couldn’t remember. She was the only woman Seth had ever brought home on one of his rare visits. Diana couldn’t recall much about her personality, only that she’d broken the heel off her expensive pump walking through the yard up to the front porch and had outrightly complained that the whole place reeked of pig shit.

“Well, it is a pig farm,” Dale had said baldly, in that mild way he’d had, when he was trying his best to be polite to someone he thought was being stupid.

Oh, Dale.

Diana took a deep sob of a breath and tightly clasped the purse in her lap, vaguely noting that the skin on her hands looked like crumpled newspaper. The boy in front of her, sitting sideways in his seat, caught her eye and examined her curiously for a moment. He was young. Seven? Eight? Young enough, at least, for his staring not to be considered rude. He had almond-brown eyes and inky black hair that looked as if his mother had stuck a mixing bowl on his head and started trimming with the kitchen shears.

“You okay, Miss Lady? Need a tissue?”

Diana smiled slightly and shook her head, her lips still trembling and her sinuses still loose.

“You sure? I got one right here in my backpack.”

“That’s alright, young man. I have one if I need it.” She patted her purse. “Thank you though.”

The boy’s mother turned then and gave Diana a tight, guarded look. “Don’t bother her, Jordan. Play your tablet.” She said. The boy dutifully turned around in his seat, bowing his head to the screen in front of him as if in prayer.

Diana sighed again, quieter this time, as the train slowed to a stop. There was a bustle of activity as people zipped coats, folded newspapers, and buckled briefcases. They were replaced with others who unzipped and unbuckled and rustled their papers anew. When the train was going again, she glanced up at the map on the wall to see how many stops were left. Two more.

What would she say? What could she say? What exactly did one say when you hadn’t seen your son in three years? She’d called and asked him to visit so many times, and he’d promised that he would, but something always seemed to get in the way. He couldn’t get time off from work. He and Annie (that was her name!) were going on vacation. There was a dinner party with some big wig that he just couldn’t cancel on.

Diana had thought about visiting him here but riding the bus and catching trains and taxis by herself had seemed so complicated and scary. It still frightened her, but now she had no other choice. She didn’t drive. Seth knew that. The seizures. She’d had them since she was a teenager and she had never been able to have a license. But that had been okay. Dale had driven her anywhere she’d ever wanted to go, but he’d refused to bring her here. Not after the last time.

Seth hadn’t invited them to the party. His secretary had. He’d sold some big fund or invested in something or another, and gotten his name printed in gold on the door of the building. The company had thrown a big shindig in his honor. Dale and Diana had shown up, she in the powder blue dress that she saved for special occasions and Dale in the dark denim overalls that he wore to Sunday School. God, they had been so out of place, surrounded by suits and silk dresses and sparkly watches. Seth’s ears had turned red when he’d introduced them to his colleagues, and he’d pulled at the collar of his shirt like he was having a hard time swallowing.

Seth and Dale had argued. She wasn’t sure how it had started. That night seemed so hazy now. But the two men had stood nose to nose and hurled words at each other: about the farm, about Seth being too big for his britches, about how anyone who shoveled pig shit for a living had no room to judge anyone else’s life. It had gone on for a long time and had turned a bustling, laughing party into a somber wake.

And now Seth had stopped answering the phone for her so much these days. When he did pick up, he always found a reason to go rather quickly, and Diana had no idea what to do or say anymore.

She suddenly burst into tears. Jordan made as if to turn in his seat to look at her again, but his mother grasped his shoulder with a pink-taloned hand and shook her head.

Don’t talk to this sobbing old lady behind you, boy. She might be crazy. Didn’t you know? That’s the number one rule for living in the city! Don’t talk to strangers, not even the ones related to you, by God!

It took her a few moments to get herself under control. She dug around and produced a grubby tissue to mop her face with. The train dragged to a halt. There was a flurry of activity again as people exited and boarded. Diana pulled her sweater tight against the damp chill that threatened to invade the train car. Once they were moving again, she noticed another young man, this one a young adult, sitting in the bench seat across from her. He was wearing all black right down to his combat boots and his fingernail polish. Diana understood that it was meant to be some sort of fashion statement, but it made her think of funerals and death. He was unwrapping a salami sandwich when he noticed her watching him and she smiled at him but looked quickly away.

Dale’s death had come as somewhat of a shock. She should have suspected that something was not quite right. She’d woken up that morning to find him still in the bed beside her, an incredibly strange occurrence. He was always up and about before she was. She would usually listen to the spigot run as he did his daily shave, still curled up in a warm cocoon of blankets, dimly drifting in half sleep. When the screen door off the back porch squeaked and slapped as he went down to the barn, Diana would pull herself from under the covers and get breakfast on the table.

But not that morning.

“Dale?” She said, incredulous to find him still beside her. “You alright?” She sat up quickly and put her hand on his forehead, the way she’d always done to Seth when she could tell he was feeling puny.

“I’m fine, Diana. Don’t fuss.” He flapped his hand at her. “Just tired. Two pigs littered in the night and I spent the wee hours at the barn.” He yawned so big that it made his eyes water, and tears sank into the deep crevices of skin just below. Diana was struck by how old and fragile looking he was. She had the sudden urge to go look in the mirror to see if she was getting old too.  

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Just wore out. And grouchy about it.”

She’d smiled and smoothed his snowy white hair.

If only she had known. She’d have hugged him. She’d have kissed him. Maybe even made love to him. How long had it been? Months. Six months, at least.

She wished she’d done all those things.

Instead, she’d offered him breakfast in bed and he’d heartily agreed. So she’d gotten up, gone downstairs, and went through all the familiar motions: Start the coffee. Put the bacon on. Pour the milk. Butter the toast. Scramble the eggs. And by the time she’d put it all on a tray and whisked it upstairs, Dale had been gone.

Diana was consumed by the notion that she could have done something to stop it, if only she’d been paying attention. She was also sorely obsessed with how it had felt to Dale. Was he awake when it happened? Was it painful? Had he sensed it was coming or had he simply thought to roll over and go back to sleep while he waited for his bacon to fry, never to open his eyes again?

She put a hand to her chest where it ached and looked out the window again, unseeing.

The phone had rang and rang. Seth had never answered.

How could she tell her only son that his father was dead? Dale and Seth hadn’t spoken since that dreadful party. She thought about the look on Dale’s face when he’d realized that Seth was embarrassed by them. Hurt. Pain. Betrayal. Diana felt them each in turn as if by feeling them herself, she could spare Seth from having to remember.

She sniffed and looked down at the worn, green suitcase at her feet. How could she ask her son what she must ask of him now? She was able and could care for herself just fine, but she couldn’t live alone because of the seizures. Seth was a good man and would surely do the right thing by her. He’d just got his head all twisted up when he’d come to live here.

Could she live here? Would it twist her head up too? This place, with its paved-over streets and sidewalks and special places where you could touch grass, but only if you walked several blocks? Where you had to pick up your dog’s shit in little bags? Where crowds of blank-faced people shared the sidewalks each day, never knowing or acknowledging one another, and not bothering to try? Strangers. Everywhere.

The train slowed once more, causing her body to pulse forward slightly and her toes to press against the curved top of her mules. When it came to a stop, she stood and picked up her suitcase. All around her, passengers readied themselves for their departure, zipping coats, putting away phones, and avoiding eye contact. She waited her turn as the others gradually trooped out, thinking of Seth, trying to picture his face, and still feeling that slight panic rise in her gullet when she realized that she couldn’t. She shivered, afraid the tears would come again.

Suddenly, she felt a small, warm hand grasp hers. It was the boy from the seat in front of hers. Jordan. He looked up at her with dark fringed eyes and smiled. He had a front tooth missing. Diana smiled back, thought of Seth’s tightly curled hair, and squeezed the boy’s hand.

“Jordan!” His mother spat, pulling him away. Diana stood rooted to the spot, watching as the two went to the door. He glanced back at her and smiled slightly before he was yanked outside. Diana waved.

“Hey Lady, you’re leaving your bag there,” It was the young man in all black sitting across from her. He’d removed his toboggan to reveal long, electric blue hair that made his face look like a pale moon in an afternoon sky.

He was right; she’d left her purse on the bench seat. She grabbed it up and slung it over her shoulder and turned back to him. He was still holding the salami sandwich, its parchment wrapper saturated with oil. It was half-eaten and smelled strongly of Italian dressing.

“Thanks. Good sandwich?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Pretty good. Donny’s Sandwich Station on the corner of Broadway and Fourth.”

Diana nodded and then looked out the window. “Would you look at that? It’s quit raining and the sun’s coming out!”

The young man took a large bite. “Always does eventually, dunnit?” He sounded as if he were talking around a mouthful of cotton balls. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently. “You getting off the train? The door’s about to close.”

Diana didn’t need to look up at the map. This was her stop.