Ships in the Night

Aaron smiled; he loved his life – he was young, good-looking, sporty, and had great mates. He was fortunate enough to live in the cool, clean mountain air and, commuting to work via express train, still enjoyed other advantages the city offered. He knew most of the faces on this carriage, if only a handful of their names.

    ‘Hey tosser, wake up. We’re here.’ It was Ben – his bestie.

    Aaron woke with a start and looked around to get his bearings. ‘I was thinking,’ he began.

    ‘Want any help with that?’ Ben interrupted and ruffled his hair, ‘And that mess needs a comb, too.’

    They joined the procession and began shuffling to the exit. At this point it was usually entertaining to look out the window and watch all the go-getters who hit the platform running, or just to gawk at the passing fashion parade. Her effortless stride first drew their attention. She exposed minimal leg – from the knee-high boots to her hem – but the texture of her skin and the shapely contour of her thighs pressing against the clinging skirt unleashed their imaginations. As she passed by their window, they bobbed low enough to catch a glimpse of her face but were frustrated by a go-getter overtaking on the outside. Aaron noticed a splash of golden hair as she whipped it from under the strap of her shoulder bag.

    ‘Next time maybe, mate.’ Ben consoled Aaron, laying a hand on his shoulder.

    ‘Yeah, I guess so. But, like I said, I’ve been thinking.’

    ‘Aaron, listen to me. This is important – no more thinking, no more drifting away. Just enjoy the ride,’ Ben said sternly. ‘I’ll be there when you need to think.’

    They stepped onto the platform and instinctively gazed toward the concourse stairway. She was at the crest, rummaging through her bag. She closed her eyes, sighed, and continued on her way.

    ‘I have to go. Now,’ Aaron spurted out. ‘I’ll catch you up.’

    ‘Okay. Don’t fall in.’ Ben smiled and loped off.

    Aaron found the men’s room and began slowly washing his hands. The warm water felt good. He looked in the mirror and muttered to himself, ‘Well! What do you know? Ben’s right.’ He combed his hair.

    When he emerged the train had departed, and Aaron walked to where the young lady had adjusted her shoulder strap. He went to the platform edge and peered down to the tracks.

    ‘Oi! What do you think you’re doing? Stay behind the yellow line,’ yelled an angry platform attendant.

    ‘I’ve dropped something down there,’ Aaron said, pointing. ‘It’s important.’

    ‘Step back from the edge,’ the attendant repeated, gesturing with his hands, as he approached. ‘What is it?’

    ‘It’s a book – a notebook. I need it.’

    ‘Stay back from the edge while I go fetch a grabber.’

    When he returned, the platform attendant was carrying a telescopic rod with a claw at the bottom end. He looked up and down the tracks and expertly plucked the item from the ballast. He handed it to Aaron with a wink.

    ‘There you go young fella.’

~

Aaron kept the notebook in his bag, and for the next few days he and Ben were on the lookout for the young woman. At the last stop before the station where they had seen her, they detrained, ran separately to the first and last carriages and reboarded, meeting back at their usual seats – each time without success.

    ‘It’s not looking good, Aaron,’ said Ben. ‘I think you should open it and look for contact information.’

    ‘It’s key-locked, Ben. I think it’s a diary. Private stuff.’

    ‘Yeah, but what other choices do you have?’

    ‘I could take it to Lost and Found.’

    ‘You mean just Lost and then extra Lost, without the Found.’ Ben shook his head. ‘Look! These locks are easy, mate. A bobby-pin will do it, and you relock it when you have a contact.’

    ‘But how do I explain that to her when I find her.’

    ‘She’ll likely be so glad it won’t matter, Aaron. And besides you probably won’t need to read any further than the first page.’

    ‘I’ll think about it.’

~

    Alone that evening, Aaron struggled with his moral dilemma: opening the diary was the only practical solution, but he couldn’t deny the other, more powerful motive – he wanted to know about this woman. If an old man had dropped the diary, he’d open it in a heartbeat.

     ‘Does this make me a stalker?’ he pondered. ‘Why me? Maybe I should pass this job to Ben. He won’t have any hang-ups.’

     ‘Yeah, it’ll go like this: "Your find, your job. Stop over thinking everything, Aaron”’

    He went to the desk while Ben’s encouragement was still ringing in his ears. He scraped up a paperclip, bent it into an L shape, and Ben was right – it was easy as.

    ‘A master lock-picker as well as a stalker. Oh well, might as well keep going now,’ he thought, and he opened to the inside cover.

    ‘This diary belongs to Emily,’ he read aloud.

    Nothing else was written. He turned to the back cover – just a floral pattern across both pages. He fanned through the pages, but there were no entries - it was clean, crisp and new. He turned to the first page and began to write:

     Dear Emily,

     I’m sorry to intrude but the good news is I found your diary. Unfortunately, you will never see it again. Believe me; I’ve done my best to find you. To be honest, I’m pleased about this outcome as now I can write you and pretend you are listening whenever I want.

     Regards,

     Aaron.’

    He closed the book and placed in back into his backpack.

~

    ‘Did you open it?’ Ben asked when they met at the station the following morning.

    ‘Yeah. But no good, just her first name.’

    ‘Lemme see it,’ he insisted.

    Aaron dug into the backpack and handed it over.

    ‘You wrote in it.’ Ben was surprised. ‘And you answered yourself, you tosser.’

    ‘What do you mean?’

    Ben turned the book around to face Aaron, his finger pointing to some text on the second page. Aaron snatched it from him and read aloud.

   ‘Dear Aaron,

    Thank you for the message and the efforts you made to find me. You can keep the diary - you have earned it. And there’s no need to pretend anymore as I’d love to hear from you again.

    Fondest regards,

    Emily’

   ‘Good one Aaron,’ Ben couldn’t get his words out. ‘You had me on the ropes there,’ and he buckled over, holding his stomach, into convulsive laughter. Aaron joined him not really knowing why, but this charade was the first lie he had ever told Ben in his life. When Ben looked at him again through welling eyes, Aaron couldn’t decide whether he was laughing or grieving. But Ben knew Aaron as well as he knew himself.

~

    ‘So Aaron, in your own words, tell us what happened.’ Across the table was a large male dressed in a drab suit and tie, middle-aged and greying, though still strongly built and with the neck of a front-row footballer. Beside him sat a tall, square-chinned female in police uniform, with hair pulled back and tied in a bun which pushed the cap forward onto her forehead, accentuating her predatory beak. She made no eye contact and continued shuffling papers in front of her.

    ‘I was just trying to return Emily’s diary to her,’ Aaron pleaded.

    ‘How did the diary come into your possession?’ asked the detective.

    ‘I found it on the tracks,’ Aaron replied defensively.

    ‘And how did it get onto the tracks?’

    ‘I’m not sure. It fell from her bag and maybe rolled, or someone kicked it.’

    ‘So, you were watching the young lady?’ The detective looked directly into Aaron’s eyes.

‘Well, yeah.’ Aaron lowered his gaze. In the foyer the antique railway clock was audibly ticking.

    ‘Why didn’t you take the diary to Lost and Found,’ the policewoman asked casually.

    ‘I ... I would have. But ...’ Aaron turned to his right. ‘Ben! He can tell you.’

    The chair creaked as the lean man sitting aback to Aaron’s left uncrossed his legs and leant forward onto his knees. ‘Is Ben here now, Aaron?’

    ‘He’s waiting for me on the concourse.’

    ‘I’m addressing you, Mr. Carter.’ The policewoman pointed at Aaron.

    ‘Eh, we thought that wouldn’t be a good idea,’ Aaron replied. ‘Things so often get lost for good in Lost and Found.’ He grimaced, remembering Ben’s pun. She was not amused.

    ‘And by “we” you mean yourself and ...’

    ‘Ben. Me and Ben.’ Aaron finished the sentence for her.

    ‘We have video surveillance of you exiting the train then reboarding another carriage. Can you explain why?’ asked the detective.

    ‘We ...’ The policewoman raised an eyebrow. ‘I ... I was looking for her,’ Aaron answered.

    ‘And if you’d found her, you would have ...?’ The detective presented his open palms to Aaron.

    ‘Given back her diary,’ Aaron said emphatically.

    ‘You did this on three separate occasions,’ the policewoman noted.

    ‘Something like that. I wanted to be helpful.’ Aaron swallowed a lump.

    ‘I’ll bring up the station footage,’ the detective said and pointed the remote at a screen mounted on the wall to Aaron’s right. ‘It would be helpful if you could point yourself out.’

    The view was looking along the platform as a train approached in superfast motion. It came to a rapid stop and began to disgorge commuters. As this point the detective pushed another button and the video went to real-life speed.

    ‘That’s me there,’ Aaron said, pointing, ‘with the red backpack.’

    ‘And here’s you again on the previous day. You exit at the same place, run along the platform and reboard the last carriage. Your red backpack is easy to follow,’ the detective said playing the entirety of this segment through.

    ‘Okay.’

    ‘And one more!’ The train was approaching the same platform. ‘I want you to watch this closely and identify yourself.’

    Aaron nodded.

    The detective paused the video at the point where Aaron exited the carriage. ‘Can you identify yourself in this clip Mr. Carter?’

    ‘I don’t have my backpack.’

    ‘But that is you in a white baseball cap now.’ He threw the cap onto the desk. ‘This one that we found just now in your bag.’

    ‘It belongs to Ben. He leaves it in my bag sometimes.’

    The lean man moved in his chair again.

    ‘Continue watching,’ said the detective.

    He pressed play and Aaron watched the white cap run to the last carriage and reboard.

    ‘That was the same day the diary came into your hands, Mr. Carter. The same day the young lady reported it stolen.’

    ‘I don’t remember doing that. No, I was asleep then. Ben had to wake me up at the next station.’

   ‘Wait – there’s more. This next clip is ten minutes later at the next stop, where you finally alighted the train and the platform attendant assisted you.’

    They watched as travelers spewed out. Soon Emily’s golden hair bounced by, and a little later Aaron appeared still wearing the white cap and dragging the backpack by his side.

    ‘Where’s Ben? He should be there with me.’ Aaron interjected.

   He watched himself throw a notebook into the void between two carriages then doff the baseball cap and place it in his bag before fastening it across his back. He next went against pedestrian flow towards the men’s room. A few minutes later the platform was clear of pedestrian traffic and Aaron emerged from the men’s room - hair neatly-combed

    ‘I didn’t throw the diary like that. I know what I did. I’m not crazy. Ask Ben. He was with me,’ said Aaron.

    The lean man shifted uneasily in his chair again.

    ‘We can talk to Ben later. Right now we need you to answer our questions,’ the detective continued. He placed the diary at the front edge of the desktop. ‘Would you agree this is the item in question we found in your possession when we intercepted you earlier?’

    Aaron picked it up and opened to his handwritten entries. ‘Yep, that’s the diary I was trying to get back to Emily.’

    ‘How do you know her name, Aaron?’ asked the lean man.

    Aaron wheeled his chair closer and handed him the open diary. ‘It’s written right there. Inside the front cover.’

    The lean man looked. ‘There’s nothing, Aaron.’

    Aaron crossed his arms on his chest and began rocking back and forth as though it were a coping mechanism familiar to him. The policewoman’s aura was more upbeat now.

    ‘Did you write these comments, Aaron?’ the lean man continued.

    ‘Yeah - one of them. I didn’t mean any harm. That was later when I thought I’d never find her.’

    ‘And who wrote the other?’

    ‘Emily. She answered me.’

    ‘The young lady has not laid eyes on her diary since it went missing from her bag three days ago, Mr. Carter,’ the policewoman stated adamantly.

    ‘Yes. I know,’ Aaron agreed. ‘But somehow she did it anyway.’

    ‘You’re not suggesting she was drawn to you,’ the policewoman erupted cynically.

    ‘I thought maybe,’ Aaron answered, dejected.

    She looked him up and down as she would a cockroach before stepping on it and mutedly mouthed the word NO. Aaron’s rocking grew more energetic.

    ‘Ahem. We have completed some handwriting and chemical analyses of the notebook entries,’ the detective added, ‘which conclusively prove that, while different pens and inks were used, each of the entries are a product of the same hand.’ He paused to let this sink in for Aaron. ‘What can you tell us about this, Sir?’

    Aaron wailed and held his hands to his head as if to contain its impending explosion. ‘Ben, Ben where are you? Come quick! Don’t let me think anymore,’ he pleaded. He convulsed uncontrollably back and forth slamming his head against the top edge of the desk. The policewoman rapidly exited the interview room while the detective, nonplussed, looked to the lean man and uttered, ‘Doctor. If you would?’

    When Aaron slumped to the floor the doctor knelt by his side and injected an intravenous sedative. ‘Ben’s here. Look Aaron.  He made it. He’s here now – it’s Ben,’ the psychiatrist repeated.

    Aaron, drained and depleted, look up through bloodshot eyes at the ceiling and spoke to it. ‘Ah Ben, so glad you got here. Now we can unthink all this.’

‘I hope you can forgive me, Aaron,’ said Ben cautiously.

‘What do you mean?’

Ben did not answer.

‘How did I know her name, Ben?’

‘I’m sorry mate, but it was me. I told you.’

‘How?’

‘I took the diary from Emily’s bag, Aaron. I looped the train at the platform while you were sleeping. I just walked on past her and plucked it right out of her bag while she was distracted. On the front or it there was a sticker with her details – everything. I kept that but hoicked the book.’

‘Why, Ben?’

‘How was I to know you would look for the diary - and find it?

‘Because deep down I know everything you do?’ suggested Aaron.

‘That’s right. We’re one and the same. I tried to warn you. How many times did I tell you not to think so much, mate?’

‘You set me up for a nose-dive with Emily.’

‘Pretty much, Aaron. I don’t want to lose my bestie - let him find someone else and forget about me.’

‘But you let me think I had something with her - that we were somehow connected across the ether. I feel like such a gullible fool.’

‘That wasn’t my doing, Aaron.’

‘What? If not you, then who else is here?’