[stylist] FLM Chapter 2 for your consideration

Fri Sep 11 20:44:26 UTC 2009

It is not my intention to critique.  I just want you to know I am out here, 
reading it.

However,
I might check some sentences for length and strength.  Maybe too many 
thoughts are strung together.

I love red, so I want the red purse to have more value.  Why is it red?  Why 
does she use it for two years?
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Shelley J. Alongi" <qobells at roadrunner.com>
To: "NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Thursday, September 10, 2009 12:32 AM
Subject: [stylist] FLM Chapter 2 for your consideration

Hi Guys, I'm going to send chapters 2 and 3 of my story now so you can take 
a peek at it. After tomorrow night I'm going to be pretty busy on my three 
day weekend. I'm going to Chatsworth on Friday and hope to meet Rob's 
conductor, the one who was in the accident last year and then on Saturday 
I'm going on a train trip with a bunch of train fans. We're going to San 
Luisobispo. Some are getting off for the wine tasting I may or may not 
depending on my mood. I'm goign to try and finish my book but maybe get 
involved in interesting conversations. Anyway I'll appreciate your responses 
and I'll get caught up on Heleen's chapters, too. Just a note: chapters 2 
and 3 are different chronologically, chapter 2 is a flashback and chapter 3 
sort of takes up where chapter 1 left off. That should keep you busy for a 
while. Have fun and thanks for your inciteful suggestions.

***

Flirting with Monday

Chapter 2

Judy Flower was a regular commuter on the morning, afternoon, and sometime 
the evening  trains I operated for the local passenger railway line in our 
part of California. I'm not really sure how she made herself my friend. Some 
probably thought I made her mine, but I didn't. Maybe it was just God's way 
of making up for lost time and making those last days a little bit better. 
Judy flower, she was quite a girl. A busy, ordinary girl living in the city 
in a small house and having a job that she mostly liked. I remember seeing 
her everyday on that first afternoon train, she would wave as I ran to the 
front to get us going. But I didn't know her name then. Once when we got to 
the last stop on the afternoon run I saw her hesitantly approaching the cab. 
She had never come this way before, she was always in a hurry to go the 
other direction. But I jumped down and came up beside her.

"Are you lost, miss?" I asked her. She had snuck up on me. She laughed a 
little now.

"No I'm not lost," she said falling into step beside me, her short legs 
keeping up with my longer strides.

"I always see you waving while your conductor is getting everything in order 
and everyone is boarding. Your smile and wave is so infectious." Her eyes 
twinkled. I had to come say hello."

"Well," I chuckled a little, "you're always waving to me. So hello," I said 
and  caught her gaze just for a moment. "I'm on a break. Now you know who 
waves through the window."

"I just wanted to see who it was," she said, reading my badge. "Glenn. Glenn 
Streicher, railroad engineer." She winked at me and turned to go. "Well I'm 
off to work. Maybe I'll see you again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," I said and we both went our separate ways. ."

**

It had to be six months later when she came up to me at the café. It was 
early morning, I was getting myself together. Today the picture of a sausage 
and egg burrito made my mouth water. I usually didn't eat breakfast so early 
in the morning, but today that burrito combined with my usual cup of coffee 
seemed to hit the spot today.

"Hello," said the woman. I looked up from the table in the Railroad café. 
She had sparkling green eyes and a red shoulder bag.

"May I join you? she asked.

I looked up and smiled.

"Judy, isn't it?"

"yes, that's right."

I waved Judy to a seat across the wrought iron table from me. She hung her 
bag over her chair and turned her attention to me.

"Are you working this morning?" she asked.

"Yes. Of course. I have the first train out."

"Well," she smiled a little. "I'll be on it."

"Good."

She waved to another passenger, calling the woman over to us.

"Hi," she smiled, "Lori, this is Glen." We shook hands.

"He's the engineer," Judy explained. Turning to me she smiled even brighter 
than she had the moment before.

"Is that so special?" I wanted to know.

"Well I never met a train engineer before."

"Probably the price of gas was lower. You never needed one."

Judy's face broke into a smile and a flowery bell-like note floated through 
the air.

"You're funny, Mr. Train Engineer. I think you're probably right. Besides 
it's kind of relaxing letting someone else do the driving."

I swallowed the last of the coffee and got up, waving to her.

Speaking of driving. Come on let's go. We don't want to be late."

She waved at me, sending me on my way it seemed, then turned to Lori and 
chattered gaily, following me out to the track. I walked toward the cab. She 
disappeared into a milling group of passengers all getting into the first 
car behind me.

3

On a hot, July day, a year after I introduced myself to Judy, I sat on that 
planter beside the railroad tracks, utterly and completely exhausted. The 
NTSB had just finished talking to me. On the last leg of our early afternoon 
run, the train slammed into a pedestrian who deliberately walked out in 
front of it. I was sick at heart. Had there been no one to help this man? 
Did he have to walk out in front of a train? I didn't want to think of it. I 
couldn't think of it. I sat there in the silence, tears stubbornly trickled 
out of my eyes, lying on my lashes. There would be no more train trips for 
me today. It would take three hours for things to get back to normal, but I 
was finished. The investigator still wanted me to stay around but I wanted 
to go somewhere quiet. Now I dropped my head into my hands and sobbed, 
surrendering to my anguish if only briefly. I didn't care who saw me cry. I 
let myself sob uncontrollably, it seemed the agony eased and it only lasted 
a minute. I felt someone sit down next to me. I wanted to be alone. In an 
embarrassing moment, I turned and stared at the person, barely able to see 
through the tears dripping down my face.

"Hey," Judy's voice soft and low came to me quietly, almost immediately 
easing my weariness. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"Can I hug you?" she asked. "I won't do it without permission."

Suddenly her asking seemed to create a need for physical closeness, for 
reassurance. I nodded. She reached toward me and put her small arms around 
me. I pulled her toward me and suddenly I dropped my head on her shoulder 
and just sat there, breathing. This woman I had gotten to know as a casual 
acquaintance over coffee in a railroad café over the last six months, waved 
at from my locomotive cab, said hello to, and smiled at from my window 
offered comfort. I sat here, taking life from another life, restoring my 
own, happy for the much more positive human contact.

"Are you done for the day?" she asked softly.

"yes. Trains won't be running now for a while."

"I know."

"Why are you here so early? The next train won't be out of here now till 
later on this evening."

"I know that, too. I like to come here and watch the trains and just sit. 
Helps me calm down. It's kind of my place to just unwind. Do you understand 
that?"

"yes," I admitted. "Yes, I do." I didn't ask her why she needed to sit 
there. I understood. I needed to sit quietly, too. We both sat there for a 
few moments, the sun moving away from the planter, cooling the side of the 
tracks we sat on.

"I'll leave you in peace if you like," she said. I shook my head no. It was 
fine she didn't bother me. It was nice sitting her with someone quiet. A few 
moments passed then Judy looked up as if suddenly remembering something.

I'll have to get to work some other way now," she said, gathering her bag. 
"It's a good thing I still have time."

Her words roused me from my lethargy. I looked at her, noticing for the 
first time in our casual acquaintance her red blouse and checkered skirt, 
her very professional appearance. If the breeze gently cooled our side of 
the tracks, it was still hot out and if she had to take a bus or something 
she'd be uncomfortable when she got to work. I turned my wrist an looked at 
my watch. Its digital readout said 2:35.

"When do you have to be at work?" I asked.

"5:00," she said.

"I'll drive you," I announced, my heart racing. I did like her if only just 
a little.

"glen, no," she said mildly. "no. Not after the accident."

But I was determined. "No, Judy, I'll drive you."

Judy caught my eye, smiling a little and nodding in ascent.

"Alright," she winked at me. We've got two hours. Relax a little. I'll 
wait."

The NTSB investigator came toward us. I wanted to run, but I sat there, my 
tears still visible. The man cleared his throat.

"Mr. Streicher, I just came to say you can go if you like," he said. "We're 
finished. Good luck. Thanks for waiting."

I got up, extended my hand. He shook it solemnly.

"You're alright," he said. "It was a suicide. What could you do. Matt tells 
me you have one of the best safety records on the line. Congratulations. 
Thanks for being so helpful."

I nodded and we watched him walk away. Judy reached into her red shoulder 
bag, one that would accompany her everywhere during the next two years. She 
handed me some tissue and some water.

"Where should I meet you?" she asked. My eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You want to drive me to work? It's still early."

"Oh," I said, smiling now. "Well since your train isn't running would you 
like to go eat?"

She smiled.

"Okay. You're sure you don't need some time to yourself?"

"I do need time to myself," I admitted. "But I'll go home after I drop you 
at work. Can I pick you up and drive you home?"

"You are sweet for asking. I usually get a ride from a coworker back home. 
We live in the same city but we have different schedules. So we meet up 
after her shift ends. It makes things easier that way."

"Judy," I asked. "How do you get to the train?"

"I take the bus," she said. "gas is too high. Besides the train is more 
relaxing. I wish the train had been here years ago."

I nodded. I got up and she followed me out to the car.

Shelley J. Alongi
Home Office: (714)869-3207
**
NFBWD "Slate and Style" editor
http://www.nfb-writers-division.org

**
To read essays on my journey through the Chatsworth train accident, 
Metrolink 111 or other interests click on 
http://www.storymania.com/cgibin/sm2/smshowauthorbox.cgi?page=&author=AlongiSJ&alpha=A

updated July 2, 2009
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