The morning commute on the train was heavier than I remembered. I felt like a packed sardine in the small train car filled with people who had places to be and people to see. I was surprised that I recognized no one, but then quickly realized that in eleven years a lot of things change. Even if there was someone on the train I knew, I would no longer be able to recognize them. Even the station had changed. It had expanded, opened more shops inside. The usual conductors were replaced by machines. Nothing was like I remembered it.
The train stopped, and over half the train emptied, while few people climbed on. I sat down in one of the few newly opened seats. I placed my purse on my lap and leaned my head back slowly. I recalled the last time I was on this train. I was coming home with my family from visiting my grandparents. My father and brother always had a fascination with trains, so whenever we could this was our mode of transportation. My mother and I had sat next to each other, legs touching but not saying a word. I didn’t remember what we were fighting about, but I knew we were fighting about something. We were always fighting about nothing.
The train lurched to a stop again, this time I climbed off and hit the familiar platform of my home town. The familiar smell of home that didn’t smell like anything in particular hit me square in the chest. I walked on, trying to block the memories from hitting me. As I quickened my pace, I realized I was failing. I could see his face right in front of mine, as he reached out and touched my cheek. I could hear him whisper the sacred words “I love you,” as his eyes locked on mine. I could feel myself melt into his touch as I repeated his words back to him. I had never felt so strongly about someone than I had in that moment. “Let’s run away,” he proposed, still not taking his eyes off me. I didn’t hesitate when I said “Okay.”
I took a deep breath to steady myself, as I started to head for the closest café. What I needed was caffeine; it would make me feel better. It had to. I ordered my coffee, and sat at the closest table clutching my coffee as if my life depended on it. I had known the trip home would not be an easy one, but I had not anticipated how difficult it would truly be. Memories that had been buried deep within my brain were finally resurfacing. I didn’t know how to handle things that I had thought were long forgotten. I stared at the coffee, Melody written on the side in a scrawl that reminded me of my mother’s handwriting.
“Where are you going?” my mother asked timidly almost afraid of the answer. I turned around slowly, my duffel bag still in hand. “I’m running away,” I whispered. Her eyes crinkled at my words and she took a step forward, but didn’t come any closer. “Is this because of Zeke?” she asked quietly. My silence gave her the answer she needed. “Why?” she asked, “Why would throw away everything? Your future is so bright Melody. You have college next year, you use to be so excited about going to school,” she asked her eyes pleading with me. “I guess I grew up Mom,” I answered sullenly. “You cannot leave Melody. That boy will drag you down with him. If I had known it would lead to this I would have forbid it before it even started,” she said her tone starting to sound threatening. “You can’t tell me what to do with my life, I’m eighteen. I’m an adult and that means I don’t have to listen to you,” I argued. “I’m only trying to look out for you Melody! You will regret this one day! And despite you thinking you know everything; I know what is best for you! You will not leave with that boy,” she stated. Right there I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. Being trapped in this city, living the life my parents had drawn out for me since before I was born. “No mom. I’m not living your life anymore. This is what I want to do. And you can stop me tonight, but you can’t stop me forever. And I’ll never stop trying to leave here.”
