Platform

It was the usual quiet night when my train arrived in my hometown. Nothing ever happened there and so it was no surprise that the stumbling pace of the place had not changed at all. I made my way from the station along the avenues I had grown up in, the streets where I had played, and the school where I had met her. It was all just so, as if every brick of every house had waited here for me. As though the town’s existence was an illusion only maintained for my benefit, and it would fall still as soon as I left again.

I passed through suburbia and to the short stretch of shops we had called a high street. I had no doubt that if I stopped to look inside I would see the same stock being sold by the same staff as had been there twenty years before. The café was the only place in the town that showed any sign of change, for someone had recently painted the storefront an agreeable shade of orange. I looked at my reflection before heading in, brushing my hand across the lick of hair that insisted on jutting out, willing it into some form of order. I bolted upright as I saw her - she was looking back at me through the glass watching me preen myself.

“Rachel! So good to see you” I said to her as I hurriedly made my way to the table. She was smiling up at me.

“And you too Luke, it’s been what, five years since we last saw each other?”

“Where does all the time go?” I said, relieved that she had not mentioned my faux pas at the window. I spent a minute quietly looking through the menu, buying myself a precious minute to compose myself before we started talking. A waiter came a short while later and took our orders, as well as the menu I was hiding behind. Bastard. I looked up wordless to her gentle smile, fortunately she did not let the silence hang.

“I know it’s odd for me to call Luke, the truth is I’ve been thinking about you a lot” she said looking at me with a tinge of embarrassment “I hope that isn’t weird to say.” I let the question hang in the air for a second before replying, trying to gauge her mood.

“No it’s okay, really, it’s just being back here. Don’t you find it all just a bit odd?”

“It’s odd, but I’ve missed being here too.”

“As long as you don’t mind being stuck in time.” I said. She laughed but I knew it masked her discomfort. She had always loved it here, I could not wait to get out.

“How’s Nick?” I asked steering from one awkward topic to another. She hesitated before answering - a sore spot for sure.

“To tell the truth Luke, it’s over” I gave her a moment as she shuffled uncomfortably in her seat and after a breath she spoke again “it’s been over for some time now, I - we just never came to terms with how far we had drifted.”

“And so you came back to see me?” I said.

“Well, yes.”

“I’m not a rebound Rachel” I said, my frustration barely veiled. The moment the words left my mouth I regretted saying them.

“No, you’re not.” she said holding my gaze, her eyes filled with both hurt and something else, something more.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that, I’m just…” I trailed off and she took over.

“I know it’s hard being here, and to have this conversation.” she breathed deep “I’ve finally realised that I’ve not been honest with myself for a long time, and I’m trying to come to terms with that, to reconcile it.

I wanted to respond in a way that would maintain my nonchalant understanding, that would mask my shame, but the truth in her words was unmistakable. I thought carefully before speaking again.

“And what do you need to be honest about?” I said at last.

“I’ve missed you Luke”

“I’ve missed you too Rachel”

We held that moment for entirely too long staring into each other's eyes in that cosy shop, the faint remnant of something once shared rediscovered for a fleeting instant. I called the waiter over and asked for our drinks to go.

“Let’s walk and talk” I said as I grabbed my coat and gestured for her to follow.

“I thought you hated this town?” she said with a grin. Was she teasing me?

“I did, and I do. Are you coming?” I replied with a smile, holding the door open for her.

“Alright.” she said, hurriedly grabbing her things before we left the little shop.

We walked around that dull old town for hours, tracing the steps that we had taken in our younger years and reminiscing on those times when the world had seemed so much smaller, and so much simpler. Our first stop was the old bus shelter where he had met so many times before. We arrived at a scene just as shabby as it always had been, the branches of a gangly scrub bush grew through the back of the shelter and the paint was flaking away from the metal frame to reveal a thick layer of rust.

“Jesus this place is falling apart” I said, peeling a large flake aside.

“Hey don’t make it worse!” she said batting my hand away from the shelter as though I were dismantling the façade of a fine piece of historic architecture. I laughed and took a seat on the thin wooden slats that served as seats, Rachel sat down with me squeezing into the tiny shelter.

“You know I don’t think I remember a time when this place was new and flashy.” I said. I gave the wall a little push and it replied with the creaking groan of a structure held together only by the stubbornness of age.

“I always hated when you did that” she said flinching as I wobbled the shelter. “You remember how I said this thing would come down on our heads some day?”

“And it still hasn’t!” I said laughing. We sat there for a few minutes, invisible to the world under that little shelter where so many years ago we had waited - where our weekly visits came to an end as I took the long bus ride home.

“You know, I used to wish that bus would never arrive.” she said, leaning closer to me. I stayed quiet and just let her speak. “But it was always there, always on time, and just like that you were gone again.”

“I remember.” was all I could muster the words to say.

We did not sit there long for as much as I wanted to be free of that town, my days of catching that bus home were long past.

The old neighbourhood was yet to exit the 20th century, its tree lined avenues flanked by rows of white fenced, wood framed houses. We walked the length of the street spying on the houses of our old friends and enemies, of the sweet neighbours that had given us fruit, and the foul-tempered ones who had chased us out of their property. I caught sight of an old man sitting in an armchair on his veranda, eyes intently scanning a book. I squinted at him for a minute before I realised it was Joe, or at least a wrinkled and grey version of him. I gave a quick wave although I was not sure that he would recognise me. He barely looked up from the book but I caught his smile nonetheless.

“A friend of yours?” Rachel asked.

“You could say that.” I said “He was there for mum a lot after dad left - we never really got on at the time but he was good to her until the end. I don’t think we’ve spoken since - ” I stopped speaking mid sentence, unable to process what I was about to say.

“You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to.” she said gently. I stood there in quiet contemplation trying to put on a stern face. Beneath it I was straining with emotion.

“It’s okay.” I said, taking a deep breath “There’s just a lot of memories I left behind here.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up like this.” she said with genuine concern. I paused again for entirely too long, before deciding to let the past be the past.

We turned off of the avenue and cut between some houses along a path only a child would remember, and before long we arrived at the playground. In a burst of excitement I made right for the swings which seemed magnitudes smaller than I remembered them. I squeezed into the little seat and lifted my legs off of the ground, something I had not had to do when I was younger. Before I could move, Rachel charged into me and set me swinging with a push, and I could not help but yelp in surprise.

“Didn’t see that coming did you?” she said laughing and dashing beneath me as the swing crested high.

“You half scared me to death!” I shouted down to her, high atop my swinging throne.

“The Luke I knew was much braver than that! What have you done with him?” she said zipping beneath me again. I am embarrassed to say that her taunt riled the boyish rogue in me and in response I attempted a manoeuvre far too adept for my middle aged body. If there is such a thing as instant regret it was the second I dismounted from the swing mid-air, shortly before gracelessly crashing down into the concrete.

“Luke, are you okay?” she said, half concerned, half resisting laughter.

“I’m fine, just a painful reminder that I’m not that young anymore.” I said, straining to get up. My grumbling proved too much and she burst into laughter as she pulled me to my feet.

“Silly man” she said brushing the dust from my coat “undeniably brave though!”

“It’s been fun Rachel, but it’s getting late now and I don’t think my body is going to take any more being thrown into concrete.”

“Okay.” she said, and we made our way for the station.

It was a quiet walk back to the train station - I sensed that I was already leaving too soon for her. We arrived twenty minutes before the train was scheduled and so we sat on a bench alone under the dull lights. At this hour the platform was near deserted. She cosied up towards me and I made no effort to fend off her advances.

“So, leaving me again?” she questioned.

“I’m leaving it all here Rachel, it’s not just you.” I said.

“Maybe it’s time to stop running Luke.” she said. I wanted to lash out, to berate her for pushing me, for asking about my personal business, but I knew she was right. I looked around to her and spoke honestly for the first time in what felt like years.

“Every time I sat at that bus stop I was so torn.” I held back my tears and forced myself to speak “I wanted to live my life, be with you, but every moment I was apart from her weighed on my conscience. When she died I just couldn’t be here anymore. It was like it had snuffed out the sun, pulled a shade over every good memory I had left, and so I ran. I ran as far from this town as possible. Most of the time I could fool myself into believing I had put it past me but I miss her Rachel. Everything, even you, has been marked by the bitter taste of grief” she pulled me close and I squeezed her tight.

“Your mum would be proud of you Luke.” she whispered.

“I know.” I said as the tears finally began to flow.

We sat there mesmerised, looking into each other's eyes without speaking until we could hear the faint sound of the approaching train.

“It’s been fifteen years and I still feel it.” she said breaking the silence “no matter how I pray, that train will always arrive and when it does you’ll be gone again.” I did not say a word, just listening for once in my life. “I don’t want to lose you again Luke.”

My head was spinning with indecision and for all my logic I still could not decide what I wanted. As the train rolled into the platform I knew that I had but a moment left. Before I knew it my hands reached out to hers gripping them tight and the world melted away as I kissed her. We did not hear the whistle, nor the conductor asking for my ticket, nor the faint clacking of the train as it passed through the station without me.