As You Were

1. My Second Chance

The station was eerily quiet as I sat still on the bench, waiting and watching for the ticket window to open. The clock on the wall seemed to tick endlessly, sounding each second like the beat of a drum in my ears as it went on and on. I watched a few people shuffle in—each as silently as the last. Some sat down and waited too, others disappeared behind doors and desks. The sunlight filtered lazily through the window and I still felt the sting of sleep in my eyes as I wrenched my jacket over and over again in my hands. I could not fall back asleep now, even if I wanted. I was too alert, too alive, and the dread and fear that settled around my heart was almost enough to make me get up and turn away. Almost.

I knew that there was nothing to go back to—nothing waiting for me. It was only a fire ignited in my shame, in my deceit. I couldn't go back. Ever. I shook a little and I knew it was not from the cold—though I had brought a jacket with me the weather was fair, as it should've been for early fall. Unaware of my emotion the world kept on spinning; birds chirping in the trees just outside of the window, those very trees casting ornate shadows on the tile in front of me. It was peaceful in a way, beautiful and simple and so different to what it all felt like to me in this moment. This was an end for me. I'd never experience this again—this very blend of emotions and circumstance.

I would never sit here again. I would never hear these same birds. I wouldn't see these shadows casted by those trees, and I wouldn't wait for the ticket window to open in breathless anticipation.

I would never be home again.

The thought sickened me and I put it as far from my mind as I could, focusing instead on reevaluating my mental checklist. Under my jacket my wallet was in my lap, carrying all record of my life that I had. The two suitcases that sat at my feet were the only things that I would be bringing with me to this new place. I could've brought more, surely, but two seemed like all I could bear. Two because I could transport them easy. Two because I would keep better track of them. Two because the less I brought along would be that much less I would have to remind me of everything else that I was leaving behind.

"The ticket window is open." The woman behind the counter illuminated the small square she was boxed into. All at once the silence ceased and all the cacophony that belonged in this place arose as if it had always been and I'd only just now realized it. People began lining up at the window while I continued to sit, finding that now that the time had come I was rendered paralyzed. Fear gripped me tight, constricting around me, and it was so powerful that it kept me there for several minutes longer. When I finally did overcome it I couldn't believe it was really me that was walking up to the window. My body felt numb and it was as if I had no control.

It was my legs that carried me step after step, my hand that beckoned to her, and my tongue that formed the words to say. None of it was really me.

"I'd like a ticket, please." I said, fumbling for the words.

"Where to, sir?" She was courteous, offering me a smile as she glanced at her computer quickly.

"It doesn't matter. As far from here as I can get." I was clearer this time, but I still had doubts about my request. Was it too vague? What was she thinking of me? Still, she did not falter in her job and merely went to referencing her monitor before focusing her attention back on me.

"How about New York?"

"That's fine." I told her with a smile of my own. Of course I didn't feel like smiling. Not at all. I'd never left my state in the entire time I'd been alive, and the closest I'd ever come to being in a city was when my friends and I would drive into town for a beer. Even then no building went over two stories and the poshest place we had was the pizza place. It terrified me to go, to let go of all that I clung to. But I had no choice, and I knew that. So I paid for my ticket and waited patiently until I was able to board. I waited half an hour in reality, but it felt like only minutes had passed.