A man, a Boy, And a Train

The man huffed as he got his railcard out the brown, leather side-bag and attempted to scan it at the barriers. 

"Stupid card," he muttered.

It had been a stressful morning for him, if that wasn't already apparent by his dishevelled state. First of all, he'd got an email from his wife's divorce lawyer- sorry, ex-wife- and then he got stuck behind some very slow temporary lights on the bus, because some idiot wasn't good enough at his job and burst a pipe. 

A typical morning had him get to the station with plenty of time to finish his coffee before the train arrived, but that isn't happening today and he was blaming it on everyone around him.

Like that man begging for money. If he needed it so much he would work to get a job. 

He hadn't always been so cynical. It was probably his stupid 9-5 job that ended with him leaving the house at 6 am and not returning until well after 8. It beat him down, but he needed that promotion. He's been passed over three times now and it was getting ridiculous. He's been there the longest so he should get it.

The scanner finally beeped and opened for him. But as soon as he emerged on the other side, a man on a skateboard rode past and knocked his coffee all over his shirt.

"What the!" He exclaimed, holding his arms open in shock.

He didn't have time for this, so he kicked the mostly empty cup across the floor and continued jogging for his train, pointlessly wiping at the wet shirt.

He grumbled about kids and stupid skater boys thinking they're so cool as he hopped up the stairs. 

The loud speaker overhead told him his train was about to depart.

His feet moved even faster, his shirt now forgotten as he reached the end of the steps and saw his train ahead. Sprinting for the first carriage, he was barely 20 steps away when the doors hissed closed and the train began to move.

"No, wait!" He screamed knowing they wouldn't wait for one lousy person running late.

Regardless, he still ran after the train until it was moving faster and quickly moving away from him before he gave up and threw his bag to the floor, swearing and shouting around the empty platform. 

He looked around at the lonely space. It was a slightly overcast day, with dark skies and big grey clouds yet no sign of rain yet, but just to be sure he snatched up his bag and walked under the small shelter. 

The entire thing was made of stone and an occasional, chipped wooden bench sat against the wall. It would be two hours until the next train and the man was deciding whether or not he should wait for it or get the bus home and call in sick. He didn't want to do that because his boss might not give him the promotion, but he couldn't exactly wait in the cold with coffee stained clothes.

In the middle of his thoughts, he suddenly saw an empty can roll along the platform just up ahead. He looked closer and saw a small boy, maybe eight or nine years old, just sitting on a small concrete step.

The man grumbled once more and ignored him. He didn't need another thing annoying him today, but the boy kicked another can slightly closer to where the man stood. 

This time he turned away and faced the other direction as if looking out for his train that would still be at least 50 miles away right now. He looked to the horizon when he heard metal bouncing along and a can rolled past him, just metres away.

He swung around to face the boy and shouted, "hey! Stop it kid, I haven't got the patience today." 

"Are you okay, mister?" Was all he responded with.

The man didn't answer and turned back around to bask in his isolation before he heard the small voice again. 

"Mister? Mister?.... Did you miss your train."

"Leave me alone."

He didn't make a habit of snapping at random children but he didn't care right now.

The boy was silent and the man thought he had gone, until he spoke again and made the man groan.

"You can sit with me if you want, it'll be a while until the next train comes.... Mister, can you hear me?.... You can sit with m—"

"I heard you!" He yelled. "If i come and sit next to you, will you be quiet?"

The boy thought about it and shrugged his shoulders, "sure."

With a huff, the man had grabbed his bag and walked over to the boy, who eagerly moved over to make space. 

It was times like this the man hadn't even noticed he was getting older. He had the same routine everyday and only had time to think about work, but as he leant down to sit on a cold step, his knees ached and his back twinged. 

He sat there, with his bag leaning against his legs, and his legs close to touching his chest as his pointed face looked towards the distance once more. 

"Got any food?"

"No."

"Wanna play a game?"

"No."

The boy went quiet then, resting his head on his small knees that had been pulled into his chest as he stared at the other empty platform in front. 

The man ignored the boy for a while until he started to get curious. Internally sighing at himself, he turned and spoke to the boy.

"Where are your parents?"

Without moving, the boy answered, "mums at work, she left me with my dad."

"And where's he?" Asked the man.

"Over there," the boy turned and pointed to a scruffy old bar behind the train station. "He's not allowed to leave me alone at home and he doesn't like it when I annoy his friends so I come here and speak to people."

At first the man didn't answer, he didn't want to feel sorry for the boy but he couldn't help turning towards him a little more. 

"That's dangerous."

"I can handle it," the boy replied matter of factly.

There was a bout of silence again that the boy broke by lifting his head. 

"Are you upset because you missed your train?"

"Among other things."

"Because there's another one soon."

The man scoffed, "yes, but then I'll be late for work."

The boy scratched his ear, "do you like your job?"

The question seemed to confuse the man as he scrunched his eyebrows. What kind of question was that? Of course he didn't like his job, it's a job. It's for making money and climbing up the societal ladder. 

"It pays my bills," was what he ended up replying.

"Yea," agreed the boy, "that's what my mum says to.. she also says it's to pay for my useless fathers drinking habit."

The man laughed slightly. It was barely an exhale of air but it was the closest he's come to laughing in a long time. He didn't even notice he'd stopped doing it until now.

"I don't really like my job," the man said slowly. "There's always so much to do."

"Are you the boss?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"Because they won't give it to me, they keep giving it to other people."

The boy seemed to understand. 

"Yea, that happens to my mum. She says they want younger people to fill the roles."

"But I've been there the longest," argued the man. "They should give it to me because I do the most hours and I've been there at least half my life."

"Are you good at it?"

"What?"

"Are you good at your job?"

The man didn't include that in his reasons for getting the promotion.

"Well, I suppose. I just do what I'm told."

The boy put his head on his knees again and started flicking small pieces of gravel. 

"Don't you have to be good at a job to get a promotion."

The man was dumbstruck. He did everything he was told, even if it had him working 15 hour days. But he had no idea if he was good at the job. How can you be good if you're just given instructions and don't think for yourself. 

The boys voice broke him out of his trance. 

"They want young people, who have creative ideas and will do everything they're told. You've only got one of those things."

"So, what are you saying?"

"They're never going to give you the promotion. But that doesn't seem like a problem, you don't even like your job. Why would you want to be stuck doing more work. Do you need more money?"

"No I don't need more money. But they will give me the promotion! I've been loyal to them for twenty years!"

"They wont."

"They will."

"They won't."

"I'm not doing this with you!"

There was a long pause this time. The man was angry but that slowly went away as he thought about it. 

"But what would I do?" The man asked quietly.

The boy pouted a he thought. 

"What do you like doing?"

"I don't know," the man said.

"What did you used to enjoy, when you were a kid?"

"I liked designing stuff. I don't know, like posters for charity events at school."

"That's cool!" Said the boy excitedly. "My mums work needs posters doing for a cleaning business. You could be like a contraptor where you work from home and contact different companies."

"It's contractor, but that actually sounds sort of fun," said the man. Then he turned to the boy.

"What are you going to do when you grow up?"

"Something outside," he replied instantly. "Maybe a gardener, if I do well enough in school I'd like to watch different animals, like David Attenborough. Or maybe move to America and do tours of different nature trails. I'm gonna bring my mum with me.. I'll leave my dad some money for the pub."

"You seem like a good kid."

"Thanks."

The man opened his bag and moved around the contents. 

"Here. You're not allergic to anything are you?"

The boy shook his head and took what the man was offering. It was a cheese sandwich and he started eating and talking with his mouth full.

"Thank you mister. My mum made me lunch but I'd eaten it already, I'm always hungry now."

The man bit into an apple and hummed.

"You're probably growing."

"I hope so. If I'm going to be pushing a lawn mower I need a bit more muscle."

"You'll get it eventually," the man chuckled.

They sat there and ate the food. The man even halved his chocolate bar to share. 

"Oh, I almost forgot." The boy put a hand into his pocket and pulled out a small card. 

"This is where my mum works, email them and see if they still need posters made."

"Thank you," the man took it gratefully as the platform rumbled.

"I think your trains here."

A few seconds later, a large train pulled onto the platform and a couple of people stepped off. The man sat there staring at it before the doors closed and it drove away. 

"That was your train!" Gasped the boy. "Are you not going to work today?"

The man thought about it. "I think I'm going to quit. I have enough money to last until I find a new job. Maybe I'll try start that thing you were talking about."

"Good for you," the boy smiled. 

"I should probably get home," the man mumbled. 

He stood up with a groan and a hand on his knee before opening his bag again. 

"Here kid," he handed him a pack of crisps and a pot of grapes. "Thanks for the chat."

The boy nodded and the man turned and walked away. He felt much lighter now and he didn't even realise the stain still on his shirt. He saw the man from earlier still sitting on the floor and gave him all the change he had. Sort of an apology for the things he thought when he walked in. 

Before leaving the station he turned to see the boy waving. The man waved back with a smile and stepped back through the barriers.