Train Station

 A short story about the struggles of saying goodbye in a long-distance relationship.

Throughout the whole time, dropping off my loved one at the train station, I felt as if I did not belong. Strangers stand in silence against the wall. Luggage surrounds them. I feel alone, my brain gurgles with words to blurt out. Eat up every second I have before he leaves me. My feet which I know within my shoes are swollen have me standing behind the yellow line, next to my lover. I am hanging on to his arm. As if I need him to support me because I need him to support me. Black suitcases -which an hour before I was placing my weight on, allowing it to close- stands on his opposite side. My eyes are twitching, fighting hard to reframe from being too expressive.

I kiss his shoulder and neck. Holding on to him. Because maybe if I quickly cover him in affection he will no longer need to go. My love reaches his heart but not his planner. I do not know if my love reached his heart, I can only hope. Part of me wonders if he will return. The avoidant goodbye questions our future. The possibility of his heart not receiving my love, of his heart not needing my love as I need his. I crave not just his embrace, but his being. His breathing only metres away would satisfy me (only while the distance plays games within my mind). If I could shrink him, I would. Slip him in my pocket and never let him go. If he would shrink me, I would live inside his pocket and have him never let me go.

The train fills up the tracks and creates an even space among the platform. Doors open, and my love takes a step away from me. I see him, standing in line. His black suitcases beside him, but not me. My sweaty swollen feet do not move. People walk past. Bags dance at their ankles, and they collide with loved ones who wait for a never-ending hello. Some cry, from excitement from seeing someone whose body could not encase. I want to join them, I think about it for a second. But I would be crying for the wrong reason.

The weight of civilians exiting the train pushes me back. And my man enters the train. We are standing within different structures. Me on the platform, him sitting in a spot across from me. Ready to leave. To speed away from my love. I stare. Memorize his face. I worry he will not return.

The anxiety is not specific to his exit from my life. To be a choice or not. But I do not need a reason. I stand and stare. The way his bleached hair captures the sunlight, my eyes. His shirt is like a road sign, telling me he is my exit. He is where I leave the world and enjoy my own. He is my world, and he is leaving.

I am standing on the platform, and he is sitting on the train. He texts me. I return the favour. And as the rest of his travelling companies find their seat we communicate through our phones. Right after hitting send, necks fly up to see the other's face as they read our words. I tell him I won’t leave. I am making him remove himself from me because I refuse to split from him.

He jokes about running next to the train and I say I will. Even when my love rolls away, I will chase after him. Crazy how devoted I have become to a different being.

I hold my word and re-enact all the cheesy movies. As the train pulls away, I shuffle my feet against the pavement. Enjoy viewing his face just a little longer. His phone is pulled out, to capture the moment forever and soon my feet stop, and I am left waving.

My legs wish to continue. Follow him on the four-hour journey home. Or until my body can no longer withstand the gravel next to the tracks. The narrative alters and it is me who pivots and walks back the way I came. Convinced he was waiting for me. Still looking out the window, wondering where I have gone. If I have given up on our love.

A small group of people dissipating. My eyes attract my brain to a single lady standing by a pillar. Both hands hold her face, trying to push her feelings back down, however, they have already escaped. Her skin is rosy as she sniffles and hides her eyes so I cannot see her tears. My body needs to join hers, the shame that causes her to turn away from everyone else causes my spine to tighten. I walk faster, so I can duct into a bathroom.

Lock the door and sit in silence, by myself. There is no mirror, and I cannot view my under eyes becoming puffy nor my eyelashes getting stuck together by salty water. My own reflection is unable to keep me company. Left understanding the impact that the train holds on us. First, it reunites families then it plucks members away. Or maybe it is the platform, designed to only hold the weight of singular beings soaking in emotions.