The Woman on the Train

The train car trundled along steadily, only slowing for the occasional station. While clean, the age of the train was obvious. The wall panels were dark, lacquered wood, matching the floor and bench seats. Shelves with woven nets for luggage ran along the length on both sides. Spots along the handrails had been rubbed shiny over the years, nearly as shiny as the polished brass fittings adorning most surfaces. The rich red fabric of the bench cushions and backing had worn thin in places, and some of the cushions were flatter than others.

A single woman inhabited the cabin, head pillowed in her hand and eyes distant. She wore a beautifully ornate shiromuku of pure snow white embroidered with blooming chrysanthemums and a flying phoenix. The only color she wore was the brilliant crimson underlayer and similarly crimson make-up. The lipstick and eye-shadow blooming from the corners of her eyes served to accentuate her Japanese features. At her side sat the white wataboshi that she would have worn at her wedding to shroud her ink black hair. Traditionally, her hair would have been pinned up in a bun, but instead, it fell over her shoulder. The only thing that ever gave other people pause and marked her as something other was the luminous gold of her eyes.

It was unclear how long she’d been on the train, but one thing was certain, she’d been there for a very long time.

Outside her window, trees filled to the brim with pink sakura petals flowed past. Slowly, the train came to a stop and the woman stared unblinkingly at a small, poorly maintained shrine near the end of the platform. The wooden doors were falling off the frame. Inside, a small bowl was empty next to a morsel of moldering food. The platform itself was in complete disrepair, the cement completely cracked in half and what used to be a bench seat lying in pieces.

The train car doors opened and closed.

The woman sat up straight and folded her hands primly in her lap, turning her head to watch an unusually small child step into the aisle between the seats. Dirt was smudged across her hollow cheeks and her hair was stringy and unkempt. Even from where she sat, the woman could see several patches where hair hadn’t grown back. Her skin seemed to sag on her bones, and she smelled foul.

Despite all of this, the young girl smiled widely at the woman, and without asking, clambered onto the seat across from her. “You’re very pretty,” the girl chirped, “Your eyes are a weird color.”

The car rocked as the train accelerated. Outside, the pink petals started to fall, swirling through the air.

The woman remained silent, simply staring at the girl. Often, people were unnerved by her irises, but the girl openly goggled at her.

“Are you getting married? Are you excited? I want to get married one day and be a good wife. Mama told me good wives always have enough to eat and never get hit.”

The woman pursed her lips in distaste. She said nothing.

“I love my Mama. She tries really hard. But things aren’t good. After Papa went away, these other men always come over and Mama is always hurt after. I wish she could be happy.” The young girl looked down at her grubby hands, smile falling away. After a moment, she met the woman’s eyes again. “Do you think she’ll be happy one day?”

The woman really couldn’t say, so she didn’t.

The car flashed into darkness accompanied by a surprised squeak, but it didn’t last long. As the light returned, the verdant green of summer grasses waved and clouds heavy with rain hung in the distance. The train began to slow once more.

The woman asked, “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

The little girl cocked her head, but the train rocked to a stop. She jerked her head towards the window. “That was so fast.” She slid to her bare feet, careful not to touch the woman’s hem. “It was nice meeting you, ma’am. I hope we’ll meet again!” She darted away, her little feet slapping on the wood.

The platform out the window looked identical to the last, but less rundown. Spider webs drifted in the rafters, but the concrete showed little wear. A single cracked plastic bench sat beside a whirring wending machine. A full sake cup sat within a newly painted shrine.

Cicadas droned so loudly that the woman nearly didn’t hear the click of wooden geta coming toward her. She turned to greet the newcomer.

A shrine maiden of comparable age to the woman stood in the walkway. Her white kosode and scarlet kiribakama were impeccable as was her neutral expression. “Is this seat taken?” she asked politely, gesturing to the seat opposite the woman.

The woman shook her head, gesturing for her to sit.

As she did, sliding her hands along the back of her thighs to smooth the fabric of her kiribakama, the train rocked into motion once more. They simply regarded each other. After a moment, she said, “You’re familiar. Have you been to the shrine recently? Were you married there?”

Once again, the woman did not speak.

“I suppose you wouldn’t have. Not after it was set ablaze.” The shrine maiden glanced out the window and folded her hands in her lap, mirroring the way the woman sat. “My sisters got out, but I don’t remember…” She trailed off, then whispered, “What a beautiful day.”

They remained in silence for several long moments, the woman observing her. The longer she looked, the less pristine the shrine maiden began to look. Soot dusted her cheeks and darkened her clothing. The center of her kosode began to bleed red.

As she lifted her hand to the center of her chest, the car went black once more. The darkness lasted longer. When it brightened again, the brilliant oranges and reds of the momiji and the golds of the ginkgo exploded. The leaves fluttered in the current created by the train.

The train began to slow, and the woman asked, “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

The shrine maiden never took her eyes from the window, but a tear streaked down her cheek. She shook her head. “I don’t remember what I was looking for.” She stood as the train braked.

Before she could move too far away, the woman said, “You will. Keep looking.”

The shrine maiden bowed her head and moved away.

Outside the window, the woman found a platform covered in autumn leaves. They were so thick that she couldn’t make out any details except for the flickering of a light. The small shrine was empty, the doors missing.

The purposeful click of heels approached, and the woman found a severe-looking woman standing before her. Her face was set in a scowl, her eyes cold and hair pulled back into a tight bun. There was not a hair out of place. Her clothing portray no character. The light blue dress had an exceedingly tight bodice and the skirt was pleated, the lines pressed until they were sharp. Her black heels were low and sensible.

Neither woman spoke as they regarded each other, but as the severe woman took a seat across from the woman, she said, “We know each other, yes?”

The woman supposed that was true in a sense so she inclined her head.

“Where did we meet?” Her eyes traced over the woman, and lines of jealousy creased her features. “You are quite young and beautiful. I wish you a joyous marriage.” There was an edge to her voice, almost as if she didn’t really mean it.

The woman raised a single eyebrow in response.

The severe woman huffed a sigh, dropping her eyes to the simple silver ring she wore and then to the seats across from them. “Why is there no one else here?” she asked, “Aren’t you lonely?”

The woman shook her head.

“Lucky you,” the severe woman muttered almost sarcastically, “But sometimes it's better. Better to be alone than miserable with someone else. Sometimes they’re just assholes.” She pressed her painted lips into a thin line and lifted a hand to her throat.

For a third time, the train went dark as it slowed. It stayed dark even longer than the previous time, and when the light returned, snow as white as the woman’s shiromuku blanketed the landscape. Immediately, the world’s sound seemed to deaden.

The severe woman’s face had gone ashen. Quickly, she stood. “This is my stop,” she said, moving into the aisle, “Pleasure to see you again.”

The woman asked, “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

“No,” the severe woman hissed and hurried away. As soon as the train stopped completely, the doors were shoved open.

Outside, the platform appeared newly renovated. The lights were bright, the roof intact, and even the bench was undamaged. Incense smoldered in the shrine. The figurine appeared newly carved, and still steaming onigiri and sake sat before it. Though the roof was covered in snow, the red paint on the wood was still shiny.

The woman’s attention was drawn by a repeated thump and shuffle.

An old woman, back bowed and hair grey with age, came into sight. One wrinkled hand was wrapped around a cane handle while the other held a small cloth bag, and she didn’t even lift her feet as she moved forward. Oh so carefully, she sat across from the woman and smiled. “Hello, old friend, it’s been a long time since we last met. I’ve brought you something.” She began to unpack the bag.

The woman nodded, and unlike the times before, she asked immediately, “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

The old woman chuckled softly, nodding. She spoke as she lifted the small table between them and placed out two cups that she filled with a steaming clear liquid and onigiri. “I did this time. I fell in love as a young woman. I married a kind man who loved me very much, and all my children grew up to be kind and successful. I waited so long for this life.”

“Yes, you did,” the woman said, smiling gently. Graciously, she accepted the offerings, delicately lifting a cup to her mouth for a small sip. Again, the train went dark, and trees laden with the beautiful pink of sakura petals created winding paths across the landscape. “What will you do now?”

“I’d like to sit with you for a time, if that’s alright.”

The woman inclined her head, and the two of them settled in, watching the passing scenery.