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YOU MISSED YOUR TRAIN (09/01/2024) Starring THE MUSE back I am gripped and suffocated by restlessness and clammy nausea. I am at odds with the forces of physics. I am at odds with the gravity and pressure of the Earth's atmosphere. I do not know where I am. I stood there at the station with my arms hanging limply and uselessly by my sides, as if my body were deflating. It vanished into the distance and the breeze it left me with blew in my face as if to rub the whole thing in. I checked the clock, big blocky orange digital letters. I missed it by about five minutes. I exhaled my last traces of exasperation and stood there quietly. My next train would get here soon. I met someone there on the platform. They turned to me with a sort of knowing half-smile and despondent head-shake. "Missed your train, huh?" They said. I rubbed my nose and nodded, feeling embarrassed. "Yeah." "It can happen to anyone. I missed my train too," They said. "I missed it by like, 20 minutes." "Ouch," I said. "Yeah. It can happen to anyone." We stood there for a while and chatted a little more. I turned to look at the clock. The numbers, for whatever reason, had become completely illegible. I squinted my eyes and rubbed one, wondering if I hadn't slept well enough last night. They gently grabbed my shoulder and gave it a small jostle, returning my attention to them. "Oh, don't worry about that, man. The train will get here when it gets here," "I can't read the clock. Am I crazy?" I said, turning again and gesturing a thumb at the indiscernible digits. "Can you read that?" They cracked a smile, and fumbled a hand in their pocket for a moment, pulling out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. They lit themselves one after sticking it in their mouth, and offered me one. I took it, they lit me up. They smiled again, cigarette hanging from one corner of their lips. "Don't worry about it. Who knows if the numbers are even right. We're both here, right?" I kind of furrowed my brow for a moment, disarmed, cigarette hanging uselessly from my mouth before I took a drag. I coughed. "It doesn't hurt to check." They rolled their eyes. "Dude, the train will get here when it gets here." We kept talking. I remember at some point we got onto the conversation of their ex-partners, and I remember they had quite a few, as had I. They had a tumultuous love life (as had I), which they talked about fairly openly despite the fact that there were glints of pain in their eyes as they talked about one betrayal after another, one shouting match after another. Some of their partners they didn't even love, they just didn't know how to say no to the advances that were made on them. I took another drag off the cigarette, coughed, and nodded knowingly. I understood. I briefly went over similar experiences I had. We started skirting closer to the topic of childhood trauma. A sudden gust of warm air pelted the side of my face, shaking me out of the conversation. I quickly glanced to one side, looking into the darkness of the tunnel. "Hey, wasn't that train supposed to stop?" I sputtered out, pointing a hesitant finger. The person inhaled deeply and exhaled, almost mournfully. They scratched their head. "Damn. I guess we're just unlucky, huh?" Truly. I wasn't sure when exactly we'd both finished smoking, but by that point, we were now deep into a conversation about society. We talked about how there was a sense of power that came with owning being the 'freak' that society paints you as when you don't 'fit the box'. They talked about their abusive father extensively, I talked about my own past traumas, a colorful assortment of abuse. We talked about the weirdness our wounds had left us with. We cursed the people who brought us down, and then I had a joint hanging from my lips, as did they, and we got high as kites talking about how pervasive fascist ideology was becoming in everyday conversation. Another powerful gust of wind blew past me and disappeared down the rattling tracks. "That's twice now, what the hell?" I said, looking at the clock again. The LEDs building the letters were now hopping around, flashing in random patterns, blinking, shifting around. "I can't read the fucking clock, it's broken," I heard a sort of wheezy, amused laugh from my companion. "Holy shit, how stoned are we?" They laughed, rubbing their bloodshot eyes. How stoned was I? My head was sort of hanging to one side as I looked back onto the tracks again, sleepily. I sat myself on the tiled floor, and shortly afterwards, so did my companion. I spoke again. "This sucks," I said. "I can't keep missing it." They looked at me, the smile was gone from their face. "Look, I'm sorry, man. It wasn't your fault," They said quietly. "I don't think anyone ever chooses to miss a train. I mean, we're in the same boat here. It does suck," "I don't wanna miss the next one," I said. They leaned back into their shoulders and stared at the fluorescent lights above us, and all the piping and electrical wiring and the air vents. "Neither, but if the trains don't stop for us, how are we gonna get on? We're kinda stuck," They said despondently, digging in their pocket again. "I keep missing them. And it's like, well, what am I gonna do? I can't un-miss a train." They pulled out a couple of tabs of acid. I think I was too stoned to really be surprised by that. They handed me one, we both ended up with them on our tongues pretty quickly. I looked over at the clock again, and I knew at this point the acid had to be fucking with me. The letters were crawling off the clock and onto the wall. My companion jostled my shoulder. "You and that clock, dude. Look, I can't read it either. Can you just relax?" "We keep missing the trains and I'm getting sick of being here." They looked at me in a weirdly stern sort of way, but their features were unquestionably distorting a little because of the acid. When they spoke, it sort of had this metallic resonance to it, like we were both trapped inside a tin can. "Sick of being here? Jesus, can you stop blaming yourself for missing the trains?" I shook my head, trying to make out their facial features clearly, but my skin felt like it was made of towels, I had cotton-mouth, my eyes were watering, and I was really sure I was on the verge of a really, really bad trip. "I don't wanna be here." They leaned in close to me, with these weird coronas of color spiraling out from around their pupils, and I swore I could hear their heartbeat pumping right in my own ears alongside mine. I was sweating so much, the front of my T-shirt was drenched. Their features softened somewhat. "You can't un-miss a train. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't my fault I missed it either. If the train doesn't stop, it doesn't stop. If we can't read the clock, then we can't read it," They said. "Look at me, man. It wasn't your fault. None of this was." I nodded shakily, my lip trembling as I felt a swarm of insects crawling up my spine. I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or throw myself onto the tracks. They spoke again in the most angelic resonance I'd ever heard. "It wasn't your fault. Tell me, was it your fault?" "It wasn't," I finally sputtered out, half breathless. "It wasn't." "You're so beautiful, man. I'm so glad I could meet you," They leaned in, wrapping an arm tenderly around my shoulders. A gust of wind blew past us. "I've been missing these fuckin' trains my whole life. I'm just so glad you won't judge me for it. You're like an angel. Please stay with me." "What?" I stammered under my breath, my eyes so unfocused I could barely make anything out. They pressed their forehead into mine and sobbed. "Please. They don't get it. I just..." They paused, swallowing a sob. "I told you about my dad, right? You remember?" I nodded. They clenched their eyes shut as tears streamed out slowly. "That's really where it started. I just wanted him to love me, but he didn't, he never fucking did," They bit their knuckle. I managed to get some words out. "That wasn't your fault," "We didn't ask for this! That's the point!" They heaved. "We're stuck here. And all we have is each other now," They wiped their eyes with their sleeve. "...man, do you want some more weed?" They pulled out two more joints. How much shit did they have on them, anyway? They were on top of me, next thing I knew, with both with our jackets off, sweaty and stupidly high and worked-up and upset and feeling like we were magnetically stuck to each other. They kept talking as we smoked. "I think maybe we were meant to meet," They murmured. "Us against the world, and I know that world isn't for us. It never was, if you don't fit into the system they just fuckin' throw you out like you're trash," They wiped their eye again. "Maybe we are trash. Maybe we're not even people. If they won't let us be people," They began, leaning their face near mine. "Maybe we aren't." I think three or four more gusts of wind blew past us while we had this moment together. The tiles were cold under my back. I was too high to speak. I just lay there in a puddle of cold sweat. "You're just so fucking beautiful, man. If we're born to lose, then I wanna lose with you," They started toying with my hair. "We can love each other like the fucking animals we are. Do you think I'd look good in a dog collar? Like that Stooges song, man. I could be your dog. Or you could be mine. It's just such a raw kind of love." I pushed them back gently. "I think..." I said, my throat dry. "I think we missed the train again..." They pulled back and slumped onto their knees, looking at me in defeat as they rubbed their dry eyes with their wrists. "I don't get it. Do you think there's some special cosmic answer at the end of all this that'll just magically purge you of your shame?" They said, disappointed. "Maybe there just isn't an answer, man. Yeah, we missed the fucking train. Okay? But do you think peoples' worth is measured by how efficiently they catch a train, or something? What would you do if you just couldn't catch the train, man? If it doesn't stop for us, it just won't. Do you get it?" "I don't. Why won't it stop? Shouldn't it stop just once? Maybe I need to pay more attention-" They inhaled sharply and gestured a hand in frustration. "Because it just fucking won't, okay? The timetables aren't accurate, the driver doesn't fucking care about us, the public transport system is fucked. Okay? How are we supposed to make anything 'work' in a world that's set up like this? We're fucked," They wiped their nose and sniffled. "You can either kick yourself for the rest of your life for being a train-misser, or you can just fucking own it. Because it wasn't your fault, it wasn't my fault, all we have left is whatever we have left." I rolled over to one side and groaned, stiff, the light shining from the fluorescent lights on the tiles still forming weird little spirals, as the acid slowly showed me mercy. I was barely retaining what they were saying. "...God, my back hurts. What time is it? Does the clock work yet?" I heard the rustle of paper and suddenly, they swatted me on the crotch with a rolled-up magazine. I jolted and shouted in surprise and pain, immediately springing upright and clutching my groin. "What the fuck was that for?!" I shouted. They tossed the rolled-up paper aside, it hit the floor and unfurled into a Playboy magazine with visible wear on it, the corners were curling and worn. "Because you're acting like an asshole. Just because you're hung up about this and can't get past your shame doesn't mean I have to be ashamed of myself. Do you know how long it took me to make peace with missing every fucking train?" They stood up and staggered for a moment, leaning down to pick up the jacket they tossed aside. They slipped it on and dug into their pocket again, pulling out a plastic baggie of some sort of amorphous, shifting substance I couldn't visually discern. "Do you want some of this, or not?" "I don't want any more drugs..." I mumbled, leaning sideways to grab my own jacket, and I slipped it on clumsily as I stood up on wobbly feet. They shrugged, and downed the entire baggie; I didn't even bother asking what that the hell that could've possibly been. "Look, I don't wanna make you do anything you don't wanna do. But, you know," They glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. "You know who to turn to if you ever need a hit of something." I shook my head, trying to breathe slowly as my surroundings started to look a little clearer. "I don't want to, no." They paused and cocked their head back for a moment, giving me an odd look. "Why?" "It's not good for me." They sighed wearily, scratching their head as they stuffed the empty baggie into their pocket. "Well...I mean, I guess if you feel like it's coming from a bad place, like you're using it for the wrong reasons, well, you don't have to use anything," They mumbled. "Are you sure, though?" I straightened my clothes out and tidied my hair up, wiping cold sweat from my brow. "Very sure." They nodded somberly. The tracks started rattling. "Like, really sure? I dunno. You're not judging me, are you? I hope you're not offended by this or anything, but, like, I just..." They paused, straightening their lips into a sort of shy grimace. "I dunno, it was really fun. I've never had that kind of fun with anyone before. And you're...hot, and you looked even hotter when you were high, and you just understand me, and I just..." They paused again as I looked over at the clock. 23:58. I'd been here for seven hours. They approached me and grabbed my shoulder one more time. "It's not me, is it?" The tracks kept rattling. I cleared my throat and gently pulled my shoulder away from them. "I wanna catch my train." "It's me, right? I wish I'd just made you feel better. I could've done more. You were my best friend. I should've supported you more, I just wish you didn't hate yourself for this. We don't have to fucking hate ourselves just because we missed the fucking train, man. Please." "I could've been out of here seven hours ago," I said dryly. "Well, what were you supposed to do? Just 'catch the train'? If it was that easy, wouldn't you have just caught the first goddamn train?" The tracks kept rattling as, slowly, the boxy shape of the train pulled in to the tunnel, and it stopped. It stopped, and as it did, it hissed, hot air bellowing out from its sides, as its automatic doors slid open to an empty carriage. I looked inside it. It wasn't perfect, by any means, it wasn't spotless but it wasn't in the worst shape at all. It was clean enough. There was some graffiti etched into the windows. A voice called behind me. "Please. You can't do this," They stammered. I looked back at my former companion and stared them in the eyes. Their eyes were wet, the skin of their eyelids was pink and inflamed from the crying and the weed, they breathed deeply and slowly. "Please. Don't leave me, man," I responded. "You can come with me. The train's stopped, you can just get this one with me," "No," Their voice was shaky, they took two steps back and put their hands up defensively. "No, no. You don't understand. I'm just not able to do it. You should know that. I always miss the train," I tried to urge them with wave of my hand to get on as I set one foot inside. "Look, come on. Do you need to take my hand or something? Look, it's here. We can get out of here together. We're not gonna miss this one," They took several hasty steps back, furrowing their brow, getting upset again. "You can't do this. I'm not even telling you you're not allowed to, it's that you can't. Neither of us can. You really think you're better than me, don't you? You never got it. That's probably why it's so easy for you. Go ahead, throw me under the fucking bus. It's not my fault you can't accept being a fucking train-misser. It's not even about the drugs man, I gave you so much, and for what?" They were hyperventilating, crumpling to the floor in a heap. "Do you think it feels good to be a train-misser, you fucking prick? You fucking sellout," I screwed my face up. I set another foot in the carriage and slowly walked inside. "Go ahead. Leave me. You had a home here. I loved you so much, you were perfect. You're gonna destroy yourself. You're not a train-catcher, man. You're a train-misser, and you always had a home here. I never judged you. But I guess that's just not good enough for you. You're lying to yourself, and I wish you wouldn't. You make this look like a choice." The doors hissed again as they slowly slid together. I stood there with my arms folded, staring out onto the platform through the window as their voice became muffled. They approached the doors and quickly tried to stuff something through the thin little gap to no avail. "What is that?" I called out. "Weed, don't you want some?! Any at all?!" Their words were so muffled I could barely understand them. My expression twisted. "What the hell? Are you kidding me? Get lost!" I said. The train lurched as it slowly started moving. They scrambled, dropping their baggie, falling onto their hands and knees, reaching out desperately through tears. I felt dirty. I felt dirty over letting them get me that high with so little resistance, and I felt dirty over letting them touch me like that, and I felt particularly dirty over how they spoke to me. They disappeared behind the tunnel wall as the train pulled out and away from the station, rumbling through the tunnel softly, with the carriage squeaking and swaying from side to side. I lay back on one of the seats and rested quietly, shutting my eyes. The carriage jolted momentarily, shaking me out of my sleep. I blinked rapidly and then clenched my eyes shut tightly as daylight hit my face. I sat upright and rubbed my eye, and glanced out through the window. The tracks ran across a bridge, extending over the ocean. There were one or two ships on the horizon, under a nearly-cloudless sky. I tried to see where the bridge was leading, but it was so long, I couldn't see anything in the distance at all. Just bridge, train tracks, sky, ocean. The sun was beaming down, a breeze was sweeping in from an open window, I heard waves crashing and gulls squeaking. No, I was already home. This was forever, and this was my home.  |
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