sweet//cameron dallas

trains are for old folk

His finger tips swept across the seat, his hand now collected in dust. It was an old train. He sat down in the chair closet to the window, and put his bag over the table we were at. We all did the same. We all placed the bags over our heads, and just sat there in silence. Nash comes rushing over to us, panicking like something had happened.
"Did I miss it? Have we left yet?" He asks. We nudge toward the window, to show him that we had not even moved a bit. He sighs, and sits next to Cameron.
"Cmon buddy. You've been wanting to go to Boston for years. Sort things out, you know? Cheer up." Nash says, patting his back. He leans his head on the glass, his breaths making it foggy.
"I have something for you." I say, pulling out the gift from my carry on. I place it in front of him, making him look it over. They were the letters she had written.
"Here you are. Back in your hands." I tell him.
"I don't want them." He says.
"Yes you do. Just take them. Please?" I ask.
"Nash? Can you grab my medication?" He asks him, pointing up to the bag that was above us. Nash climbs on top of the seat, and unzips the bag. He pulls out the bottle of pills and shakes them. He shakes it once, and the pills go flying all over the table, and the carpet. Cameron sighs, and flicks his hand.
"I'm so sor-"
"Forget it." He says.
"They don't work, anyways." He says. The engine blows on the train, and there's a sudden burst of movement that causes us to jump in our seats.
"Twelve hours to Boston!" One of the lady's that attended to the passengers said through a speaker. Her voice was loud, and alarming. I watch Nash press his face to the glass in the booth next to us, his eyes probably amazed. He had only been in cars, and busses. No airplanes. No boats. No trains.
"I can't believe they don't check your bags on these things." Cameron mutters.
"They trust you, I guess. Trains are for the old folk: old folk don't like to kill anybody." I smile. He looks at me, and smiles himself.
"I still love your smile." He says. I chuckle.
"And your laugh."
"We can talk about something else besides me, you know. It would be nice if we could talk about you." I tell him. He shakes his head, and rests his chin on his hand.
"Mhm." He mumbles.
"Why have you decided to go to Boston now?"
"I'm scared."
"About what?"
"That I'll find nothing. Every picture of her, ever article clothing, every scent. Gone. Vanished. I'm afraid that her mother three out all of her stuff, and moved to California to become some sort of bartender in Los Angeles."
"She'll be there." I tell him.
"I promise."
--------------
"Lily? Hey, lily? Wake up." I hear someone say. I open my eyes and see Nash hovering above me, his hands on my shoulders, shaking me.
"What?"
"We're here. In Boston." He beams. He smiles at me, then grabs his duffle bag from the top compartment. He grabs mine too, and places it next to me. I look across from me and watch Cameron drink coffee, his eyes focused on the passing trees. We weren't at the station yet, but we were close. Close enough for Nash to finally say we were here, after all his patient waiting.
"How did you sleep?" He asks me, taking a sip.
"Good, I guess. There's a crook in my shoulder." I chuckle a bit. He smiles, and taps his fingers on the table.
"I'm nervous."
"About what?"
"About going into the home that she once wrote me about. I've only envisioned it. I can see the window that she would climb out of, and the roof she would sit on and write me letters. It'll be weird to sit in the same spots she had spent her last days in. Just a discomforting thought. An empty feeling." He says.
"But", he continues, "this isn't some sort of dream I can wake up from. I have to face reality and go. I have no choice now." He smiles. We feel the train stop, and we hear the wheels screech.
"We're here! We're here!" Nash yells. Everyone looks at him, and he slumps back down in his seat. The doors open, and everyone floods off. My friends and I are the last to exit. We sit in the train station for a bit, waiting for a cab to take us to her house. Her address was on the letters. The air was so cold, and my hands were numb. It was like the wind was running right through me. Cameron grabs my hand, and smiles at me.
"I have high anxiety." He whispers. I nod, and he kisses my head. We watch Nash wave his hands close to the street, trying to get a cab. All the cabs pass him, and his face reeks of disappointment. A girl steps in front of him, and whistles, causing a taxi to appear in front of her.
"I'm from New York." She beams,letting Nash take the cab. He smiles at her, then waves us over.
"Your boy Nash just got y-"
"You didn't do anything." Cameron laughs. He puts my luggage in the trunk of the car, and slides into the cab.
"Where to?" The driver asks. Cameron pulls out the small letter, kisses it, then hands it to the driver. He reads it off them throws it back to Cameron.
"That'll be about twenty bucks, kid." He spits, turning a corner. We all sigh, and pull out all of our pocket money.
"A ten." I say, placing it on the council.
"A five." Cameron says, doing the same. We watch as Nash reaches into his pocket, his younger out a bit.
"A four, and four quarters." He smiles. It takes us about 18 minutes to get to her house, or what we thought it was. It was a small little apartment that was on one of the main streets in Boston. It was very lovely, actually. It was brick, and had these veins growing up the side of it. The railing on the stairs was black, and the door was a nice cranberry. Very old, but very nice.
We step out of the car, and Cameron grabs my bag, placing it in front of me. The cab eventually drives away, and it leaves the three of us in front of the old brick steps that led to her house. We all stood there, thinking about who might be behind the door. Maybe her mother. Maybe a quiet old lady, who would be nice enough to let us look around for a bit. Maybe a new couple who were busy having sex, and they don't let us walk past the front door. Only time would tell.
"Would you like me to do it? Open the door?" I ask. He was wearing a long, black coat. His hands were covered with mittens, and his feet were dressed with boots. He looked so dapper. He always did.
"No." He simply says, and walks up the to the door. Nash and I stay back, watching as he holds his fist to the door. He knocks three times, then steps back a bit. A minutes goes by, and no one answers. He sighs, and turns around.
"You're looking for her?" Someone says. It was coming from behind the door. There was a brown eye looking through the peep hole.
"Rebecca? This is her house, correct? Was, her house. I apologize." He says. All you can hear is the many locks un clicking on the door. It finally opens, to reveal a lady that looked much like the girl in the pictures.
"Come in. There's tea on the stove." She says, and we all step into the warm house. She didn't seem to mind that we tagged along with Cameron. She almost seemed pleasantly surprised. Like she hadn't seen a human face in years. We all take a seat in the living room. Cameron sits in an arm chair by the fire place. Nash and I sit on the couch next to him. And the lady that had greeted us sits on the couch across from us. She had quite the seating arrangement. Cameron stands up and lights a match, throwing it into the fireplace.
"I hope you don't mind." He says. "My friends and I are quite cold."
"I don't mind at all. It's nice having it lit. It hasn't been used in years." She says. He sits back down in his seat and intertwined his fingers together.
"I would love to chat with you, but I really only came here to look. Do you mind if we...?"
"No. Not at all. I haven't been in her bedroom since the day she left. If you're looking for something, it'll be up there." She smiles. You can definitely tell by now that her mother has grown very nice over the years. She isn't as rude as Rebecca wrote she was.
We all trot up the stairs, and find ourselves wandering into the on,y room with a closed door. It was hers. He runs his hand over the white wood, and places a hand on the door knob. He knocks before entering the room. We all step inside, and just stand in the doorway. It was just how she had described it. The sky light was right above her bed, and there was the little window that led to the roof. Cameron walked up to it, and taps his foot on the hard wood. It had seemed as if the wood in the room was rotten. The window was open, and a soft breeze was blowing in the room, making it a bit bitter. When her mother said she hadn't been here since she left, I guess she really meant it. The rain, and the snow must of ruined it. Nash scans the walls of her, looking at all the photos she had pinned up. There were a bunch of her and Cameron, and her and Nash. There were a couple of her and what I assumed to be her friend, Olivia. There was one of was particularly fond of, and it was one of Cameron drinking coffee. They were in the coffee shop that lined the baled walk down town. I make sure no one is looking, and unpin the picture off the wall, stuffing it in my pocket.
"Lookie here." Nash smiles, looking into a box that contained a bunch of old cameras.
"She loved photography." He says, picking one up. He turns it on and looks through the lens.
"This one was her favorite." He says, messing with buttons. He clicks on a button, and a video appears on the screen.
"Hello, who ever is watching it. I know it's not my mother, so I'm hoping its Olivia, or maybe even Gregg. Or if I'm lucky, it's Cameron watching. So, hi. I've left a note on my desk if you'd like to read it, but I'm not going to talk much." She says. Nash quickly closes the camera, and puts it back in the bin.
"That was her-"
"Suicide video." He finishes. He rubs his chin then leaves the room.
"I need tea!" He yells.