Familiar Strangers

Home. It’s that place where you release the breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. The place where you sleep as deep as you did when you were ten years younger. The place where you let go of your future worries and relax into the present.

For Harry Tufton home was the 18:05 train from London Bridge to Brighton. The journey was just over an hour and occasionally, when the world weighed too heavy, he would fall fast asleep. His stop was the last, so no worries there. More often though, he would sit, appearing to stare out the window. At this time of night, in the winter, there was very little to see except the blackness covering the countryside. But that blackness was where Harry did most of his seeing.

Tonight was a blustery, cold evening and, as he sat down, the breath he didn’t realise he was holding fogged up the window. He was in his favourite seat, one of the pair furthest from the door, nestled behind a larger group of 6 seats. Here, there was minimal chance of anyone sitting next to him, but between the crack splitting the seats in front of him, and the reflection visible in the dark window, he could see most of the carriage. Ideal.

He settled down, ready to enjoy the only part of his day that really made him feel alive. In the window he saw his own pale face looking back at him - grey stubble several days too old lined his thin jaw, and sad, tired discs of blue peeked out from sunken eye sockets. Man, I should eat more. But I’ll worry about that later. He averted his gaze deeper into the reflection of the carriage.

He felt a bubble of joy as he saw Arjun leaning against the glass in the open space by the doors, Sophie was bouncing little Holly on her lap in the seat two rows in front, and obviously old Benjamin was there in his usual spot, reading the Metro, glasses balanced on the end of his nose. There was a good selection of strangers to pick from too. But he’d had a frustrating day in the office, his Java code for the blandest of fitness apps he was working on had bugged out eleven times and right now he fancied spending time with someone familiar, someone comforting. Arjun it was. His mum loved Arj too.

Arj was in double denim; his large belly was poking out from the middle of the jacket and was pressing into a white t-shirt. His podgy hands were half-stuffed into his jean pockets and he was absent-mindedly fidgeting with something inside the left one. He had his headphones in, but Harry knew he wasn’t listening to anything. He never was. Harry focused in on Arj’s face. To get inside you had to really pay attention to how they were feeling. And then he felt it, the stomach-flipping sensation as he blinked, the distance between them seemed to warp and shrink, and suddenly, he was in Arj’s mind.

Oh what a beautiful place! Arj’s thoughts and feelings were rushing through Harry at an electric pace. An image of a small, frizzy-haired boy in school uniform with tears running down his face popped up, alongside a frustrated thought; ‘I should’ve told him it was a good song first, before telling him to slow it down!’

Must be in Arj’s class today.

‘I’ll make sure I give him a star for something next week, he’s a good boy.’

It always amazed Harry how much time Arj spent worrying about making sure all the kids in his class felt happy and motivated. A stack of papers appeared in his view with musical notes all over them, and a wave of apprehension went through Harry and Arj. Ah you still haven’t done that marking Arj, come on buddy!

Next, he was whisked off to see a plate of steaming vegetables and rice and a text message that said ‘Brinjal tonight xx!’. It was followed by the face of a dark-eyed woman with a kind smile and a burst of love. Meera’s made a good choice for dinner! The sound of an adventurous melody began playing in Harry’s ears – thundering trumpets and sweeping violins marched through his brain. Ah the best part about spending time with Arj! Let’s see how his piece is coming along.

He spent several wonderful, relaxing minutes listening to Arj compose his latest symphony until he got stuck on a particularly high-pitched flute section and Harry decided to surface from his mind-hop before Arj’s annoyance could seep into him. For a moment his own thoughts quietened as he relished in the warmth of Arj’s life.

Then, letting the carriage come back into focus, he decided he was ready to read a new story. He noticed a teenage boy sitting next to old Benjamin who he hadn’t seen before. He had mid-brown hair, longer on top with a central parting – 90’s boyband vibes. The boy’s eyes were sharp, resting on the poster of Aladdin the musical, before darting to stare at a stranger opposite him. This was a good sign; his thoughts would likely be clear and coordinated from Harry’s experience. Harry’s mind got closer. The boy’s bottom lip was tense and he was sitting stiffly, his arms drawn close into his body. Flip. He was inside.

Irritation swiftly coursed through the recesses of his brain, sparking at every crack between his neurons, like hot lava spewing forth. The thought was piercing; ‘why is it ALWAYS Cornish pasties these people eat on trains? Don’t they realise they make the whole train stink for everyone else around them? Selfish bitch.’

A flash of pastry tearing as it’s parted from a mouth, threads of saliva connecting the two and crumbs spilling out to the side. Urgh. Harry barely had time to process before – ‘What would she do if I yelled at her to not bring her stinking pasty on the train? I wonder if everyone else would secretly back me up? They MUST be thinking it too...’

Harry heard baby Holly give a cry from the row behind. It made the boy’s anger froth and spurt. Jesus, this kid needs to take a chill pill. A shudder of surprise came from the boy.

‘Huh? What was that? Who said that?’

Shit! Harry leaped out of the boy’s mind and saw his head yo-yoing left and right in confusion. He purposefully stared into the darkness of the window. He’s a detector! In the two-and-a-bit years he’d been able to mind-hop he’d only come across a handful of people who could sense his presence. Heart thumping in his chest, he glanced into the reflection and saw the boy looking right at him! How did he know it was him? But, after a second that lasted forever, the boy’s gaze moved over to the right and continued searching the carriage. Harry waited a minute to make sure the boy didn’t look back to him. He’d got away with it.

Harry thought that the boy probably didn’t understand what had just happened to him, so in all likelihood would forget about it quickly. Or maybe, he thought with a smirk, he wouldn’t quite be able to answer truthfully if someone in the future asked whether he’d ever heard voices in his head. Either way, the pulses of adrenaline that were now flowing through Harry made him think he’d probably done enough mind-hopping for one journey. He had enough material to make his mum happy this evening too, which was a bonus.

He had just found a comfy position, hoping to taste a few morsels of sleep before the end of the ride, when he heard a sneeze from the seat in front of him. His ears pricked up. He would recognise that cute sneeze anywhere. Jo! She must’ve got on the train after him and he hadn’t seen her in the reflection because of the angle.

He shifted his body to the side, all thoughts of sleep forgotten, and sure enough through the crack between the seats in front he saw her cascade of curly black hair. He’d known her long enough that her way of thinking was second nature to him. If only she knew him too. Maybe today will be the day. He could have found a way to introduce himself before of course, made up some excuse to conveniently offer her her favourite coffee (cappuccino, one sugar), but he just felt it would be better if he did it when Alex was no longer on the scene. And that was surely going to be one day soon. He slipped into her thoughts easily.

‘Hmm come on…need to think of something to say to Maria.’ A vision of her charismatic boss at Cakes and Cards inc. came to the forefront.

‘I could say I have a doctor’s appointment? No... doctors aren’t open in the evening…They really should be, it’s such an inconvenience to take time off work. Ok what if I just told her the truth?’

Jo imagined herself walking up to Maria and Harry could sense her nervous energy even in the daydream.

‘Oh hey Maria!’ She pictured herself speaking in an up-beat, overly cheerful voice. ‘Sorry I can’t come to the work party tonight; I already went out to ballet class this week and my boyfriend gets mad if I don’t spend enough time with him in the evenings! Argh no, stupid… she’d think I’m pathetic.’ 

A feeling of disgust at herself followed and it stabbed at Harry, hurting his heart. Oh Jo, you shouldn’t have to deal with this, dump him already! Harry felt an inter-connected gust of exasperation and love for Alex come from inside Jo. ‘His sulky face is always cute though, and I know he just wants us to have enough time together.’ I’d say he’s controlling and manipulative, the prick.

Harry imagined Alex’s smug face turning to shock, then horror, as he saw Jo kissing Harry, her delicate fingers, always painted silver, running through his hair. He saw her chestnut brown eyes look lovingly up at him as their lips parted. It could happen.

He remembered that time, a few months ago, on the very same train, when he had been wallowing in her mind and she had glanced at him. It was always weird seeing yourself from someone else’s brain. And it always gave him momentary jolt of panic as he wondered if they’d figured him out. But the thought that went through Jo’s mind when she saw him was simply ‘he has a nice jaw-line.’ A nice jaw-line! He had been so full of happiness he’d hardly slept that night, and ever since then, if anything had made him miserable, he’d tell himself ‘at least I have a nice jaw’. I’m lucky she can’t see my thoughts! He half-smiled; he’d made that joke to himself too many times.

But another day and Alex is still hanging around. I can see all of her needs and desires if I want, and look where it’s got me. I probably know her better than he ever will. Maybe I should do something about it for once? Come on you piece of crap why don’t you do something? But he knew in his heart he couldn’t, at least not now, not while his mum…

The train lurched as it began to brake and slowly drag itself up to platform 4 in Brighton. Harry spirits deflated as he realised it was Friday and he wouldn’t see Jo again until next week. He stepped off and watched her black curls bounce blissfully unaware into the distance before he began the trudge to the Royal Sussex County Hospital.

As he climbed the stairs to the ICU, he thought this may as well be his home; he spent more time here than anywhere else, outside of work. But no, the sadness permeating this building prevented it from being a true home to anyone.

He walked into Room 7.20 where Jeremy rolled off his standard greeting - 'hey Harry, no change today I’m afraid, I’ll give you some privacy' - before leaving. His mother lay in front of him, hooked up to all the devices that it seemed possible to connect a body to. She had been in the coma for two years and thirty-seven days and he’d been here for every single one of them. She would often tell him to leave her, to go out and have fun, but he couldn’t, not when he was all she had, her only contact with the world.

'Hi mum, it’s me.' He said out loud.

Flip.

‘Ah there you are Harry!’ She thought. ‘How are you? Tell me about your day.’