Tell Me a Story | ✓

Far, Far Away: Part 2

2. Boy

A boy, waiting for his ticket.

A ticket - that will send him to his dream come true.

He walks to his train with only his backpack as his luggage, leaving behind his college town and boarding a train that will send him to a place far away. He's in his favorite jeans and heavy black coat, his feet snuffed into his hand-me-down snow boots. As he walks onto the train he sees that everyone is dressed this way, too; he also sees that every seat in the train is taken.

Furrowing his eyebrows and adjusting the heavy strap on his shoulders, he walks down the long aisle of the train. As he walks, he notices all the passengers diversities and choice of clothing. Some small kids sleeping in their mothers' laps; some elder people reading a newspaper; some lone people just like him, wanting to get out of town.

When he's in the middle of the train he notices an empty bench across from a girl around his age, staring at a book with distant eyes. He smiles at her appearance, seeing only a backpack as her luggage as well. He knows, like him, there's a story behind those distant brown eyes. He stands at the end of the table and hesitantly speaks, snapping her out of her daze.

"Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit here?"

He watches as she kicks her feet off the bench across from her and nods, motioning him silently to sit down. He gives her a polite smile and slides onto the bench, setting his backpack beside him and adjusting himself to where it's comfortable. Once slouched on the bench, he looks across from him and at the girl who has returned to look at her book with a dazed look in her eyes.

Her dirty blonde hair is pulled into a floppy bun, her loose bangs hanging down in her eyes, and her smooth face is tear-stained from recent cries. Her muddy brown eyes are getting blurrier by the second and he knows instantly that she's going down a bad road in memory lane. Feeling like he needs to help, he clears his throat and snaps her out of her nightmare once again.

She looks at him curiously, and he immediately regrets his actions. What the hell was he going to say? "I, uh... sorry. I just saw that you haven't, um, turned the page in a while." Smooth. He scratches the back of his neck and avoids eye contact, not wanting to see the laughter in her eyes. In an emergency attempt, he adds, "And you don't really look illiterate to me."

Hesitantly looking at her expression, he's pleased to see a smile replacing the frown on her lips. "No," she says, her voice like a warm blanket on a cold day. "I'm not." He watches as she folds down the corner of the page in her book and stores it away into her bag. "You?"

Me what? he wonders, caught completely off guard by the question. Someone was actually talking to him. "What about me?" he asks, finally looking into her eyes. Somehow remembering, a smirk grows on his face. "Am I illiterate?" She nods and he holds back a laugh. "I most definitely am not."

She raises her thin eyebrows and nods, giving him a once-over. "I guess I can see that."

Something heavy falls onto his chest and drops into his stomach, a small snapshot of the first day of college coming into mind. "Hey geek, the library's that way." "What are those - glasses?" "What's up, Gaytard?"

Shaking away the memories, he asks her, "Should I take offense?" To his relief, she laughs and some weight lifts off his chest. She was only kidding. Playing along, he decides to make a joke out of it. "No, seriously. Is it the glasses?" He crosses his eyes in a pitiful attempt to look at his glasses that were perched on his narrow nose, causing the girl across from him to laugh louder. When her laughs abruptly stop, he refocuses his attention back on her to see what the matter is only to chuckle at her embarrassed appearance.

She narrows her eyes at him and crosses her arms defensively. "Was that your goal? To embarrass me?"

His eyes widen and he obediently shakes his head no. "Of course not!" His thoughts flash back to the frat boys and the hairs on his arms stand up despite them being hidden under his thick jacket. "I don't even know you."

"So you're just making me laugh just to... make me laugh?" She looks at him like he's insane and he only shrugs and nods. What's the matter with laughing? he wonders. He misses the action so much. "Why?"

Why? He purses his lips, holding the answer in his mouth. Would she take offense? "You looked upset; thought you'd like some cheering up."

He watches as she frowns, her gaze falling to her lap. Observing her patiently, he waits for her reply or possible explanation. "Um, yeah. It's a long, boring story. But everything's fine now."

With every word she spoke, all he could think was lie, lie, lie, lie. "Really?" She nods, the motion seeming forced. "Then how come I don't believe you?"

Did I just say that? She sets her elbows on the table that sits in between them and stuffs her face in her hands. Shit. "Fine, I'm not. Happy?"

His throat closes and he knows that he's struck something awful in her. "No."

He watches in amusement as she spreads her fingers out on her face, peaking through them and looking at him curiously. "...No?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Cause you're not happy," he says plainly. Shouldn't that be obvious?

"Why does it matter I'm happy?" she asks, like it's a crime to care for her wellbeing. She slides her hands down to her cheeks and stares at him like he's a puzzle piece in the wrong box.

"Everyone deserves a happy life."

An image of the frat boys flash in his mind again and he catches the lie in that sentence. She does, too. "Not everyone."

He offers her a small smile, somewhat glad that she could relate, but also saddened that this beautiful girl had gone through some terrible things as well. "Yeah, some people should just get a slap in the face." With an iron. "You know, we're going to be on this train for a few more hours," he says, choosing each word carefully. "I think I'm prepared for that long, boring story of yours."

She stares at him again, but this time he lets her. He knows that his offer is crazy - he knows that if the roles were switched, he'd be thinking and doing the same thing. Share his story with a stranger? Never in his life would he do such a thing. But something was screaming in his head, telling him the impossible. Trust her.

And she does the same.