Hours passed slowly yet meaningfully as Francisco stared out the window. Landscapes changed as different worlds revealed themselves. People’s livelihoods, businesses, homes displayed themselves yet disappeared as he passed by, allowing for only a slim glimpse into it all. People’s habits, thoughts, beliefs, and tendencies were shown through the way their world was organized. On the outside, people perfected their mannerisms and actions, making sure not to reveal too much about themselves. Yet the inside revealed who they truly were in essence, although nearly impossible to see in the natural world. Just like everything, with enough observation and experimentation, you can come up with a hypothesis. The focal point of this observation was their home; the way people decorated and presented it cast a glimpse into what they were inside or what they were trying to hide.
Inside the train, everything was peaceful. Soothing jazz music played off the intercoms as everyone relaxed in their comfortable seats. He finally had the moment to rest and not worry about anything. What felt like eons of working and managing had made this foreign. What once was millions all dissipated on that fateful day. And even at the time he did have that money, he could not use it for himself. Not for entertainment, trips abroad, or for simple fun. The material of his work did not allow for a single moment of that. Solace could only be found in the embrace of others. But with all that change, maybe he could gain what he lost. Maybe he could gain something more.
A pure state of silence embodied the relaxed train as everyone participated in this time of quiet. Most conversations ceased as people admired what the world had to offer or slept. Some also chose to use their phones and indulge themselves. Time seemed frozen in this short period of solitude, but the end came shortly after. Screeches rang throughout the train as the carts jumped and shifted. The mountainous momentum the train once had diminished. Intercoms, once playing music, now bear the conductor’s voice, announcing the nearing of their destination, solidifying most people’s thoughts. Spikes in conversations ensued once they all realized the eventual ending of their ride. Many prepared by gathering their belongings, while others discussed the long journey they had recently lived through. Others woke up after hearing the chatter and eventually entertained themselves with more chatter. Everyone, including the old man who just a moment ago had his eyes twitch as he slowly gained consciousness, made it clear that his old body had far outlived its prime and was no longer handling long journeys the same way it once did. Stretching the old man’s bones caused an audible, uncomfortable sound. They popped and shuffled around to their respective positions as the old man groaned heavily. For Francisco, although he had been on the train for far longer, his body remained relatively the same; only a few sores bothered him. Not needing to prepare for the eventual departure, Francisco indulged himself by staring out the window one last time before this journey’s end. Outside, buildings as tall as towers revealed themselves as they pierced above the light blue sky, dominating over the remaining buildings. Dark blue light reflected off the windows of the majority of these high-rise towers, blinding those foolish enough to stare. Only those with proper jobs could ever imagine themselves standing at the peak of these towers. As for those without, they could only hope. For under these towers was the real world, the world most lived in. In this world, many people struggled, fought, and worked to teeter on the edge between homelessness and prosperity. Yet many lost this battle, succumbing to the worthlessness and disappointment that approached after defeat. They plunged themselves deep into depression and addiction, ingesting and killing themselves with drugs and alcohol. They did this only to cope, to dream of times better, no matter how much of a fantasy these dreams were. For this was all they could do; the world swallowed them and spit them back out, deeming them unworthy to inhabit the peaks the world had to offer. Now hope was all they had, for God never answered their prayers, as if to affirm the world’s thoughts that they were worthless everywhere. Was this meant to happen? Did God want this? Many would never know the answer, for they would kill themselves before its answer could be shown through the naturals of the world. Francisco understood well what it meant to succumb to the failure of prosperity. For although Francisco had once stood at the peaks of these high-rise towers gazing down, he was born on the frost-driven asphalt of all below. Francisco had experienced both worlds and witnessed what they had to offer. Neither world could satisfy his desires, for he had always wanted something more. But now that something had left Francisco’s eyes, all that he had left was his expressionless face, which experienced most of what these worlds had to offer. And in those dark, vague eyes of his, it was clear to see hope had never inhabited it, for hope could never have satisfied his desires, only action. But now Francisco had lost even that unexplainable glint. Now only the cold shell of his former being remains, locked away in his dim, unreadable eyes. This is why Francisco did not care whether he got addicted to these drugs. What point was there in caring when he no longer had anything to look forward to? He was now addicted to the relaxing sensation, the delusions, and the love the drugs and alcohol brought. He could no longer maintain himself without them. Maybe for a singular moment, he could abstain, yet the same pounding desire to ingest came no different after. And the moment he loses the meager amount of cocaine he has left, his fragile state of mind will surely collapse. Now he was little to no different from the world he first came from. No, Francisco was different. He never had the hope for salvation many in his situation had desired so hard. Francisco has nothing to look forward to or people to meet, he was only binding his time until his eventual death. What Francisco was doing now was staying alive, for he is not living.
Screeches rang throughout the train cabins as it slowed to a complete stop. After stopping, the conductor announced instructions for departing. A moment after his instructions, many had begun standing up and walking into the aisles to leave. Francisco was situated on the inner seat of their pair, so the only option was to wait for the man to go into the aisle and depart. While waiting, he thought about what to do after departing as it was vague.
‘I don’t have much, but getting a taxi to take me should not be out of the question. Although if I really wanted to save money, taking a bus would be a good idea. Although I’ll have to find one to take me to Dalton otherwise It’d be a pain in the ass getting to it.’
Atlanta was not much of a large city; only a portion of it held the monumental skyscrapers that stood out, while the rest was allocated for residential apartments and houses towards the outskirts. Of course, this could be said for every city.
Although he had never been to Atlanta, Francisco knew it would not be much different from California. And even if they were different now, they would eventually become the same.
Finally gathering himself, the man stood up at a snail’s pace as he stretched his back and twisted it. More crackling and popping commenced as it became clear the ride took a heavy toll on his elderly body. In accordance with the man standing up, Francisco also stood up and prepared to leave before the old man stopped him. Speaking to him one final time before they separated.
“Hey. Wait a second.”
“What.”
“Don’t act so shy with me; I slept with ya’ after all.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“I’m just messin’ with ya. We’ll probably never see each other again after this, so I just wanted to say… You gotta lighten up, young man. Life’s too short to get caught up in the past.”
“…”
“I know I gave you all that shit for not seeing your mother, but I was hoping you’d understand how fucked up that is.”
“What’s your name.”
“Huh? It’s Earl Ingram.”
“Listen, Earl, don’t try to lecture me on sh*t I already knew. I don’t care how fucked up it sounds to you. You don’t know my life; you don’t know shit about me. What gives you the right to try and lecture me on shit you couldn’t even have a slight clue about.”
“Young man-”
“Earl, I’m sure our lives were much different from each other’s. We are not the same; don’t try to connect our lives. We were raised differently, loved differently, and conditioned differently. You and I will never understand each other.”
“I might not understand you now, but when you need a shoulder to lean on, someone to listen. I’ll-…”
Earl stopped talking and dug into his trouser pocket to pull out a notepad. Then, with a pen, he proceeded to write something on it and pass it to Francisco. Hesitating for a moment, Francisco grabbed it and stared at it.
“It’s my property address. Whether you want to talk or simply visit, I’d be happy to listen.”
“What if I come and rob you?”
“I’ll have my rifle for you then.”
“…”
“I know you’re a good person, whether you believe it or not. I got at least 40 years on you. My eyes are more accustomed than yours. Although they can’t see much now.”
Francisco stared down at the address Earl handed him and saw that it also included a phone number on it.
“I also gave you my home phone if you want to just chat.”
Then, taking Francisco by surprise, Earl gave him a heavy hug.
“Aye, bring it in!”
Although the man was old, he had a significant force in him. Nearly suffocating Francisco in his grip. Then, after a minute or two, Earl finally let him go and stared at him, once again affirming his thoughts.
“…There’s also another reason I gave you that. My grandson once looked like you as well.”
“?”
“I don’t know what it is, but you two seem similar. Maybe not in situations, but in emotions.”
“I doubt-”
“Not to be heavy again, but he killed himself.”
“!”
“I remember the day before he did it. He looked nearly identical to you; I could see it in his eyes. The emptiness. At the time I didn’t realize it, but seeing you now brought about those memories. And I can see it now. Your demeanor and eyes. It was in the eyes.”
“…”
“Haha, sorry again. I just don’t want to see you on the news, alright.”
Turning away from Francisco, he stepped on the aisle and departed the train. While Francisco stood next to his seat for a moment processing what the man said. Although he would never do it, he had also once thought about ending it during those months in the apartment. Even now, the eventual thought comes into his head. But he had never expected Earl to have gone through something like that.
After his moment of thought, Francisco proceeded to step onto the aisle and walk out of the train. Outside, the now evening sun beamed down, causing sweat to form on Francisco’s head and for him to use his hand to cover the sun to gather his surroundings. Around him, crowds of people walked around and left. Some were talking to family members or random strangers, while others simply left. Through the crowd, Francisco looked for Earl to say his goodbyes. Although he was a pain in the ass, he was a good man. Someone Francisco could appreciate, no matter how different they were.
Tens of feet away, Earl could be seen talking to a group of people that seemed to be his family. Smiles were spread across each one of their faces as a happy aura exuded from all of them. Seeing him speaking to his family, Francisco hesitated to approach him, not wanting to interrupt their moment. However, Francisco had something he wanted to say to Earl. He thought Earl might have wanted to hear this, at least.
Approaching Earl with soft yet resounding steps, the evening sun lowered with every passing second as birds chirped and people chattered. Francisco arrived right behind Earl and spoke in a resounding yet mellow voice that permeated the surroundings.
“Earl.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be okay.”
Staring at Francisco, Earl stared past him and saw someone. A youth he only sees now in his memories. A boy who had left his life bizarrely and incredulously. That was who he saw—his grandson. Francisco had disappeared, and in his place was the boy whom his daughter had birthed in a deep struggle. His grandson stood with determined and bright eyes, contrary to what he looked like on the day he died. And as soon as Francisco had spoken, he imagined his grandson saying that. Affirming to him that he would be okay. No matter whether that place was heaven or hell. Or if it was neither of those, he would be okay.
“See ya, Earl.”
With tears in his eyes and sorrowful laughs pouring out of his mouth, Earl stepped over and gave another big hug to Francisco while patting him on the back.
“Hahahahah! I’ll see ya too, Francisco! Live the best life you can.”
Francisco separated from Earl and left; meanwhile, everyone from Earl’s family looked confused, wondering what they had just witnessed. Specifically, Earl’s third daughter asked confused.
“Who was that dad?”
“A new friend.”
