A Crashing Halt

A crashing halt. The cacophonous resonance of thunder blared through the sky, rousing me from a restless sleep. I looked outside. We were nowhere near Greymade Station, the train had stopped. Violent rain pelted the window where I pressed my forehead against the glass. I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or filled with resentment. The longer it took to reach my sister’s cottage, the longer I could prolong the inevitable. Part of me wished the train would never move again. 

I sat up and craned my neck to see as far out the window as possible. Dark clouds circled from the south. From what I could tell, the worst was yet to come. I could see black smog floating towards the furthestmost car where I sat. It must be the reason we stopped. I heard the sound of other passengers moving from the hall, worried voices asking each other questions about what happened. Nobody had any clue but saw the smog the same way I did. I joined the frenzied crowd that amassed beyond my compartment. While the others feared how long we would remain stagnant, I feared what would happen when we moved. 

There was a small window in the door at the back of the train car, I could see nothing by endless skies of black. Not to say looking forward was much better. The train appeared to have stopped on a bridge above a large chasm. Between the storm and the smog, nobody could see what was at the bottom of the chasm. Was it a river? Or a lake? Perhaps it was just a cliff. Or maybe, nothing at all. Maybe the only thing to reside at the base of the chasm was an endless black void. Either way, nobody was bound to be leaving that train anytime soon. 

I intended to visit my sister and her family in the northern country, but I knew what really awaited me when I arrived. On one of my few precious weekends away from the drudgery of corporate life, I would spend my days being told how far behind in life I was. No husband. No children. No house to call my own, just a lofty apartment above an old bakery run by a man who’s passions died decades ago. There I could watch from the window as mounds and mounds of unsold bread were tossed into the streets. Stale, unwanted, useless. Day in and day out I worked for others, nothing more than the secretary to men who only cared to see me if I were stark naked. My weekends were scarce respite to an otherwise meaningless existence, and yet, I was headed for a place where I would be equally unseen. 

A clap of lightning dashed across the sky, I heard gasps from the nearby passengers, startled by the sudden flash. But I remained still. To my left, two men in gray suits left the confines of their compartment and stepped into the hall. They spoke so loudly, that I didn’t think it would be considered eavesdropping if I listened. And so I did. 

“I knew I never should have left when I did. If I stayed at work for an extra hour I could have taken the next train and missed this mess.” the first of the men declared. “I could be in a meeting with the president of sales, not stuck on some junk heap of a train!”

“You think you have it bad? My wife is awaiting my return. I have mouths to feed, and woman to satisfy! I can’t be stuck here when there’s so much to do back home!” The second man replied. 

“You say that as though you didn’t spend your entire ‘business trip’ satisfying women!” The first man bellowed, slapping his companion on the back proudly. 

“You’re one to talk! At least I know how to live outside of work! My existence isn’t tied to some dingy office!” 

Both men laughed heartily while I rolled my eyes. All anyone seems to care about is a life of work or the pursuit of domesticity. I thought, at the very least, my precious weekend would spare me from the talk of the corporate world. Another boom of lightning rattled the train car. The laughter of the men ceased, and the wail of a child began. The discordant cries were the most harrowing sound to my ears. 

I walked to the back of the car, hoping to distance myself as much as physically possible from everyone else. I gazed out the only southward-facing window, staring directly into the oncoming storm. The closer it grew, the less I could see of the tracks behind. I could no longer see where we came from, leaving the only direction to be the one ahead, the one with infinitesimally less to look forward to. I could see it in my mind, the moment I stepped onto the platform at Greymade Station my sister would rush to me and complain about my tardiness. She’d tell me she had no time to make dinner, the kids were running rampant and her husband was nowhere to be found. In a huff, she’d drag me to her small house where clutter filled the space she had no time to clean. I’d look at her with pity, unable to recognize the woman she once was, her ambitions choked out of her the moment she said ‘I do’. And still, I’d see myself in her eyes, the same shade of gray as mine, and I would feel the blood rush from my face. But at the end of the night, when he husband finally appeared, the meals were consumed and the children in bed, she would try to convince me this was the life of her dreams. She would feign a smile and tell me she wanted nothing more out life, and could die tomorrow in complete satisfaction. 

The wind outside picked up, and the train car rattled bringing me back to reality. I shook my head, losing the lump in my throat. This was my weekend. My precious time away from the real world. How ungrateful I must be to harbor such negative thoughts. I turned around to find myself alone once again. Everyone had since retreated into their compartments while I was lost in my twisted thoughts. I strolled to the opposite end of the car, my heart racing abnormally. Rain began to pound upon the windows to my right. Each drop struck so hard, that I feared it would break through the glass. I faced the small window that peered into the next train car. I could only see inside as the smog swallowed the northern tracks. I watched an elderly man and woman hold hands in one compartment. I saw children playing games with their father in another. The lights inside that car glowed softly, with warmth and invitation. A surge of yearning swelled within me, if only for a moment. 

I thought back to my week. Every day was the same. I awoke before the break of dawn, ate a meal of plain porridge and eggs, and then went to work until the sun began to set. I’d listen to complaints, organize things that would only fall into disarray in a matter of days, suffer constant belittlement from my superiors, and leave without making a difference. Day in and day out I worked only for a paycheck that embarrassed me to receive. This isn’t the life I set out to create. Men told me day in and day out how ‘independent’ I was, but never meant it as a good thing. Women expressed their admiration for me and still looked down on me with judgment. For a while, I believed it. I believed my monotonous life was an act of bravery and expression but I remain unfulfilled. I return to my darkened flat every night without a soul to greet me. Not a person to care whether I awoke the next morning or not. I began to wonder whether I would be remembered at all.

There was a woman with whom I worked, her youth had long since abandoned her. Allegedly, long ago she had the habit of lighting up a room. It was rare to see a woman in the office when she first began, but that didn’t stop her. On occasion she told me about the dreams she once had, warning me against making her foolish mistakes, because now, she was old and tired. Any hopes and ambitions she might have had once upon a time have been admonished and forgotten in the many years she rotted in that lifeless office. Over time her will was beaten down, and her passions withered like stones on the ocean floor. I’d heard the lecture before but never heeded her words now I fear it may be too late, and all this time I’ve been looking into a mirror of myself from another age. 

Wherever I was, people told me I should be somewhere else. There seemed to be no true path. Nothing would satisfy the hunger for more, and satisfaction in the little things was a fantasy. Whether I faced storm or smog there was no happy ending. The choice to live a life of quiet domesticity or to pursue the reality of working for myself left me feeling like a dog chasing its tail. My only solace came from this brief respite, the unmoving train, and my weekend. As long as nothing moved, I didn’t have to face the reality I drowned in, the reality where I swam for miles and barely kept my head above water. 

With a final crash of lightning, clouded with smog and rain, the world outside began to inch forward. My heart stopped and my stomach dropped. My only moment of peace, the only rest between two horrors came to a crashing halt. I closed my eyes, hoping it was a trick of the mind, an illusion. But I could feel the train moving beneath my feet, and ever so slowly, we carried on. I was reminded that in life there are no breaks, no time for pauses or hesitation. Every day I floundered in place was a day the world carried on without me. 

Rain turned to hail, and soon everything outside was enveloped in a thick black cloud. No longer could I see what surrounded me. I stumbled to the back of the car for the last time, desperate to find some way to stop myself from moving forward. I was running nowhere. I couldn’t go on and I couldn’t go back. I needed some way to stay still without running around in circles! Nothing changes! Nothing can ever be how it was!

 I couldn’t take it anymore, I reached the limit. I couldn’t live like that any longer. I reached the back door and pried it open in a frenzy. Immediately my skirts and hair were whisked in a storm of wind and hail. I threw myself onto the vestibule, clinging to the railing along the perimeter, and the door slammed behind me. I didn’t care, I wouldn’t go back. I could see virtually nothing, the foul odor of sulfur filled my nose and made my head spin. I pulled myself up by the railing, hail and rain pounding into my flesh. It felt like the end of the world standing out there. I could see nothing behind me, nor could I see what was ahead. Even the bottom of the chasm roared with uncertainty. There was no sky, no ground, nothing but bitter air and the cold. My heart pounded through my chest as I found the strength to face the unknown. As the train passed over the final stretch of the chasm, I made my choice. It was the first choice that felt like my own. I raised one foot over the edge of the vestibule, and let go of everything holding me back. As I closed my eyes one last time, I heard the gentle sound of laughter. A giddy song rang through my ears, and the voice was my own. I hadn’t laughed in such a long time. At last, I recalled the only remaining joy in my life. Until then, I forgot the simple elation that kept me afloat. 

As with everything else, that too, amounted to nothing.