6:18 to RONKONKOMA

George Thomas sat in the Long Island Rail Road New York Penn Station waiting room feeling vacant, spent, and emotionally exhausted.  He’d come to the compulsory retirement age for his work. Although he knew this time was coming,  it still took him by surprise. Work became his reason for living after God called his wife, Mary, home five years ago. There was nobody to live for now. Every day for the past thirty years, he waited for the 6:18 to Ronkonkoma to take him home to Mary. Today, he’d jump in front of 6:18 and go home to Mary again.

Gabriella Danzi walked into the overcrowded waiting room, clinging to a tattered black bag stuffed with everything she had.  She spotted a vacant seat opposite a guy who looked unusual to her. She sat facing him but avoided eye contact. Getting her phone out of her bag, Gabriella’s type in a message.  She’d text and called David, but no reply. Last night, she texted him she was pregnant. He asked her who’s the father. Hurt, Gabriella assured him he was. Although they weren’t dating, they’ve been friends with benefits for the past six months. Before last night, they’d exchange erotic texts throughout the day. They’d plan secret tryst in out-of-the-way motels. It was exciting and romantic. Now, David won’t return her text or calls. 

Gabriella closed her eyes, sat back, and sighed. She had grown into what people said she’d become, unloved, destitute, and pregnant. How could she support a baby alone? 

Tears brimmed her eyes. Gabriella buried her face into her hands and wept. She’d fix her troubles by leaping in front of the 6:18.

George peered over at the girl sitting in the seat across from him, weeping. He observed people rushing by ignoring her. She was alone. Each time Gabriella looked towards him, George diverted his eyes.  He peeped at her. Her eyes were enormous, timid, and Brown. As passengers scurried around the station, seats on either side of Gabriella became vacant. George crossed the aisle and sat two chairs to the right of her. Gabriella wiped away her teardrops with the back of her hand and glowered at him.

George leaned towards her. “Are you okay, Miss?” 

Gabriella snivel and leaned aside. 

“You can use my handkerchief to wipe your face.”

Gabriella stared at the white handkerchief in George’s hand. 

“Don’t be frightened. I mean no harm, and I don’t mean to be nosey or harass you, but why are you crying?”

Gabriella looked around the waiting room. A policewoman stood by the entrance. George set the handkerchief on the seat. 

“Here, take it.”

“Thank you, mister.”

George watched as she wiped away the streaks of tears.

Gabriella lied. “I’m okay. I’m just waiting for the 6:18 to Ronkonkoma.”

George chuckled. “I’ve been riding the old 6:18 home for years.  Today’s my last day, though.”

“Your last day? Why?”

George smiled. “The company made me retire.”

Gabriella frowned.

George explained. “They had no choice. I’ve reached the mandatory retirement for my job.”

“Oh, businesses could still do that. Doesn’t that violate the ADEA?”

George's eyes widen. “What’s the ADEA?”

“It’s the Age Discrimination in Employment Act. The ADEA. It prohibits discrimination against employees are at least 40 years old in the terms, conditions, or privilege of employment, including hiring, firing, promotion, layoff, compensation, benefits, job assignments, and training. It also prohibits retaliation against an employee who opposes discriminatory employment practices, files an age discrimination charge, or files or takes part in an age discrimination lawsuit. The Equal Opportunity Commission enforces the ADEA.  There are three exceptions to the law: Public Safety Officers, Executive Policy Makers, and one more. I remember that from my GED exam.”

George laughed. “Very impressive. But I was a Public Safety Officer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. But now you can devote more time to your family.”

“My wife passed. God didn’t bless us with a child. There’s no one left. And you, what’s your name?”

“Gabriella Danzi. And yours?”

“George Thomas.  Gabriella, that means the strength of God?”

Gabriella smiled. “Really? You have two first names?”

They both laughed.

“Do your friends call you, Gabby?”

“Never. My friends call me Gabriella.”

“Why were you upset?”

Gabriella sighed, swallowed, then began. 

“I’m pregnant. And as of yesterday, I’m homeless. I’ve been riding these trains trying to figure out what to do.”

“Homeless? How old are you, Gabriella? I mean, where are your parents?”

“Wait a minute, George. That’s a bunch of questions.”

“But you're so young to be homeless.”

“Yeah, sure. My parents died in a car crash when I was thirteen. People shuffled me from foster home to foster home. I just didn’t fit in, George. I kept running away. Got arrested for shoplifting. The courts placed me into the Lady Madonna Catholic Group Home for Girls. Two weeks ago, I turned 19, so Mrs. Simmons, the Program Director, asked me to leave. They could have kept me until I was 21. But they couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Mrs. Simmons said I was a terrible influence on the other girls.”  

“Were you?”

Gabriella sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. I found out I was pregnant by a guy named David. Told him he was the father, and I haven’t heard from him since then.”

“Where does David live or work?”

“David didn’t work. He sold weed. I've never been to his apartment. I’d sneak out and meet him before we go somewhere or use the back of his car. David said he loved me. And stupid me believed him.”

“It’s not stupid to want someone to love you or for you to want to love someone, Gabriella.” 

“If you say so. It didn’t work out for me so far.”

“What are you planning to do, Gabriella?”

“What do you mean, ‘what am I planning to do, George?’”

“Your plans for yourself and your baby?”

Gabrielle shifted in her seat. “I have a plan for my baby and me.”

“Can I help in any way?” 

“How can you help?”

“I have no one, and you have no one. I live in a house in Farmingdale. You’ll stay in a room upstairs until you figure something out.”

“Why do that for me?  We just met.”

George smiled remembering his wife.

“Mary was a compassionate person. She always helped others. She’d want me to help you.”

Studying George’s offer, Gabriella slouched back in her seat.  

“I’m not a charity case. I don’t need saving.”

“I’m not saying you are a charity case, Gabriella. Maybe we can help each other.”

“If I accept your offer, it’ll only be for a brief time. you know, till I get myself together.”

“No pressure. Come on, and I’ll give the police officer my name and my home address.  You’ll give her your name. Just in case someone comes looking for you. Okay?”

Gabriella smiled as she and George walked towards the officer.