Off Track

Part 5: Elliot

Kamal had been the one to tell me about the epistemology course Eastside offered and once I'd seen it was taught by Robert Wallis, whose works I'd read on average of five times in the last year, I couldn't think to go anywhere else.

"I don't know if the trains are even running," Kamal said, "they said they were going to be strikes all week."

"For what?"

"There's an argument between the train company and the employees over pay and working conditions." he frowned. "If they don't fix it soon, this is gonna go on for a month, maybe more."

We turned out of the courtyard and walked up the small hill that led out of campus. We were both heading to the train station, which was only a five-minute walk from campus. Although we would take different trains. Kamal went east and I went west but we saw each other almost every day outside campus.

"No, seriously," Kamal said once we'd reached the top of the hill and you could see the entrance gates sitting at the bottom. "Why aren't you interested in Honor? You two would be perfect together."

I threw him a blank look. "Why are you so invested? I don't see why it matters."

"Because you two could work so – so perfectly," Kamal said, his hands flailing in a weird gesture, "it could be real and sometimes I think you see it too but, I don't know, you're hard to read and you have a tendency to run when things get real."

I let the comment slide, knowing if I didn't it would take us down a route we had travelled too many times and I was too tired to argue. Kamal hadn't changed much since high school. He still resented the fact I had left him to fend for himself during senior year without a glance back or a goodbye. It had all happened so fast and my need to escape the pit that used to be home was so strong, I hadn't given it a first or even second thought. An action Kamal had forgiven but would never forget. Not that I could blame him. Life was already hard without your friends deserting your side. But I was here now, I'd come to Eastside for its epistemology project but also to salvage and mend the ties I'd tattered with Kamal.

"Do you think Honor's out of your league?" Kamal asked, "or are you worried about the long distance thing because, well, you're only here for a semester and you're going back to NYU soon?"

"No, Kam, I'm just not interested." I said, "I like Honor but not like that. I'd rather be her friend. You do know it's possible to just be friends with a girl right?"

Kamal's eyes narrowed then, scanning my face for a long moment before he said. "Wait. Are you into someone else?"

I frowned, "why does that matter?"

Images of rose-lipped smiles, blue eyes - clear summer skies, deep rivers - and a wild mane of blonde hair filtered through my mind like a slideshow.

"You are!" He pointed a finger at me, "Oh my God, who is it?"

I blinked and schooled my face into a blank expression, one that closed off any tell-tale sign of emotion and one no one not even Violet could decipher. I rolled my eyes once more at him.

"Tatiana's right," I said, "Jon Snow's mom was a whore."

Kamal's eyes widened. "What? Tatiana doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. I mean she thinks the Big Bang Theory is a smart comedy for crying out loud. There's no way Ned Stark cheated on Jon Snow. He's a noble, honourable man and not to mention he's the most static character in the books, why would he cheat on Catelyn –"

I tuned out the rest of the Kamal's speech. I let the fog swamp my thoughts and walked on in a state of numbness I'd grown too comfortable with. When we reached the station not long after, Kamal tapped my shoulder and told me he was going to catch his train on the other side of the station. He promised to come over to mine for another movie night.

He gave me a mock salute, turned and disappeared down the corridor. I pulled my headphones up from my neck and onto my head. Once I'd connected them to my phone and a guitar riff belonging to the Stone Roses flooded into my ears, I walked over to the large board displaying all the train times. There was one coming in less than five minutes. Platform Twelve. That's if it wasn't delayed or cancelled like a lot of the trains this past week.

I turned to head to my platform when I caught sight of a girl stumble and almost fall but I stepped forward and grabbed her arm. She took a hold of my jacket and floundered for a moment before she managed steadied herself. She smiled rather sheepishly at me and took a step back. She tugged the hem of her blouse down, straightening out any creases and pulled on her skirt a little. She said, "Thanks."

She'd pulled her brown hair into a ponytail, it swayed in the cool breeze that swam by and I watched, entranced for a moment. She looked up at me then, warm brown eyes meeting mine. Her eyebrows knit together and her mouth parted ever so slightly as if it was the first time she'd met a human being. My eyes narrowed and I opened my mouth to tell her to be careful next time, but at the last second, shook my head and glanced away. In my periphery I saw her open her mouth to say something too just as I pulled the hood of my jacket up and over my head. I thought about staying, listening to what she had to say but I realised I didn't care. I turned and walked away.

Barely half way through one of my favourite tracks by the Stone Roses and a deep buzzing sound cut it off. I knew who it was before I even glanced at the phone. I frowned. I didn't want that talk right now. I was half asleep and too tired – always too tired no matter what – to talk to about it.

Violet lit up the screen as the phone buzzed in my hand. The anniversary of Dad's death was coming in less than two weeks, and each year, we would visit his grave with flowers but this year, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Every time I thought about going to his grave and holding those dead flowers in my hand, the weight in my chest got heavier and heavier and I could no longer stand. The weight had to be my lungs slowly, slowly turning into iron.

One of these days, they would be too heavy to carry and I wouldn't have the strength to stand let alone breathe. I wondered, if I did answer Violet's call, would that be the last act needed for them to become iron or would it be when the flowers fell on his grave and I fell with them?

I moved my thumb to decline the call but my phone almost slipped out of my hand at the hard shoulder that bumped into me. I frowned and looked up to find a girl walking past. She was too busy texting on her phone to notice me or even realise they were other humans in the world. It took me a moment to realise it was the girl from the stairs who had bumped into me. She'd looked older from behind, like a grown woman heading to work in her pristine suit and matching heels but she couldn't have been more than a high schooler. Her ponytail swayed from side to side as she walked up with a hard, almost militant march to her steps. Either she was in a hurry to get somewhere or someone had pissed her off. The girl turned and joined the crowd waiting for the train.

I looked back at my phone. My sister was still calling. I sighed and decided to let it go to voicemail. I continued up the last few steps to the platform where I was met with a cold breeze. Violet's call ended and the Stone Roses were ushered back.

I spotted an empty seat next to the coffee shop and sat down with a soft sigh. I rubbed my eyes for probably the hundredth time that day. An ache rested at the back of my head, promising to grow into a deep throb only sleep and aspirin could cure. My phone buzzed twice to let me know I had a text. I swiped past the screen lock and read what Violet had to say.