Recapitulation

The familiar, yet just-beyond-memory, scent of lilacs drew me out of my daydream. How long have I been resting? Before my gaze can lift to find the perfume’s source, my body demands my attention. My knees creak; a sign of sitting here longer than I would have liked. I look around expecting to see a woman but there’s no other soul in this car as it rattles along its tracks. As more of me is drawn back into reality, the smell of lilacs is quickly replaced with the casual hints of eggs and bacon. I look at my watch hopefully. Damn. I missed breakfast.

I get up to start a jaunt around the train, wobbling as if today was my first day walking. Peering out the window, the unfamiliar landscape passes in a haze, looking as if Picasso and Dalí shared a canvas after having one too many drinks. Or was that me? The wine was flowing last night so there is more than a gambler’s chance that today’s hangover is one for the record books. But I pay no mind as the thought of food, however cold, draws me towards the dining car.

Come to think of it, wasn’t that charming woman from last night wearing a lilac fragrance? If only I had the courage to ask her to dance. There was the crowd for it. The music, the lot of those weary traveler’s stuck in a days-long train ride across the country on New Year’s Eve. But I was a coward. I’ve always been a coward. I open the next car door, still seeing no one. They must all be asleep. The rhythm of the train definitely rocked me like a baby. Another regret.

Here I am a childless man, in old age with no legacy to leave behind, no name. My life has been filled with wonderful relationships and enough adventure for many lifetimes, but I never could commit to something as terrifying as a child. Even though they’re never children for long. It’s been decades since I was that toddling mess of emotions and decades since my own parents left this life. Yet, even though I had the chance, I never took it. Would I have been a better man? It pains me that I’ll never know. My chance is gone.

A tinge of jealousy passes over me as I walk through this next sleeper car. The wealthy, behind their private walls with beds and luxury, being the few who’s dreams of comfort and dignity become reality. A suit hangs outside a room. With no inhibitions I reach out and feel it. Wool. If I had ever come upon such luck as to wrap my body in such a fine jacket. People would have taken me seriously.

I see a folded piece of paper pinned to the inner hem. ‘Launder and return to: Mitchell Montgomery.’ My good god, that’s Richard’s son.

I didn’t know he was on this train. I didn’t see him at the party last night. Did I? My inhibitions don’t have to stop me from knocking on his door for an introduction. I move quickly to the next car, not wanting to face the one business decision that haunted my career and definitely not while there is surely too much alcohol on my breath.

Well, aren't I in a foul mood now. I’m hungry, childless, and a sleazy businessman. Is this what my life has amounted to? Where is this damned diner car? I walk with more conviction as the rumbling continues beneath my feet. It has a beat to it that brings to mind a piece of music long forgotten. Oh, the memories begin to flood in. Tchaikovsky’s Valse Sentimentale. It’s been at least fifty years since I permitted myself to enjoy such a delicacy. I can’t help myself, I start tearing up as it all comes flooding back. My days of art and love and loss.

Even now I can hear Elaine drawing her trembling bow across the strings as she mesmerizes the crowds with her violin. I was always content to stay in the back row, playing my bass with as much passion as I could muster. I had a soul back then. We had our whole lives ahead of us. Two kids, madly in love, speaking together in a language transcending her broken Russian and my sorry attempts at English. Everything about our time together was right. All the way to her tragic end. I’m getting lost in my thoughts again.

I open the next car door and finally see someone. Her back is turned to me which is enough incentive to take a moment to look around. This is the dining car, but there’s no food. No wait staff. Nothing, except the scent of lilacs. I hear shuffling and see the woman from last night walking towards me. Something in her downturned smile, if that’s even what it can be called, startles me.

“Hello, Aleksandr” she says in a velvety voice which unearths yet another long forgotten memory from the vault of my past. This was the woman from last night, but there’s something else, something more intimate that I’m feeling as she says my name now.

“Have we met before?” I say, forgetting my manners.

“Of course. Last night you were a more than jovial addition to my table. I had hoped you wouldn’t forget about me this quickly.” She says, appearing to force a blush.

“Pardon, I didn’t mean to sound rude, it’s just that you remind me of someone from my childhood. But that can’t possibly be. Don’t mind this old man rambling on.” I say, cowering away from what I now know for certain. I am going to die.

As if she’s read my mind, she reaches out her hand as she walks towards me. “It’s time.”

“I remember you.” I say, now realizing what had been obvious all along. I am already dead. My body lies four cars behind me, knees never to creak again. No one in the cars as I pass, because I’m not really here. “You are the angel that came to me as a child.”

A slight nod is all she gives me for the recognition that now swallows my entire being. The second chance at life I was granted when at just seven years old I was miraculously healed from a battle with leukemia. These memories, surfaced as I strolled the train, were not out of chance, but rather a chance for me to reflect on the second chance I was given. Did I make the most of it?

“I must confess, I forgot about you. About the illness. About my life being on borrowed time.” I say, no longer able to hold back a steady stream of tears.

She grabs my hand in such a way that makes me fear her, but also lets me feel the tenderness of a woman I have not felt in years. “It’s not that you were supposed to remember the past as you lived, but now remember so you are ready to face it without regret.”

“But you must know, I’ve lived selfishly. I have regrets. I just relieved some of my worst memories. How am I supposed to face him with this weighing on my heart?” My tears are coming more forcefully now.

“This is why I gave you this gift on the train. Not all who are given the gift of recapitulation take it. You must walk through this door, but you can do so knowing that while you bring pain, you bring love as well. You have learned along the way and lived the life only you could have lived. Do not let him tell you otherwise.” Her hand drops at this as she walks back to the door I saw her standing before when I entered. It’s clearly not a dining car anymore. We’re not even on a train.

She opens the door revealing a starlit beyond. My feet compel me to move and before I can protest I am through and my test has begun. I hear a latch close behind me and everything fades before me.

I love you. I say to no one in particular. Then it all goes dark.