[stylist] Flirting with Monday chapter 12

[Shelley J. Alongi]

More about glen's hands. All the things your mother said were good about a man and you never believed them till you turned 40 and couldn't find one liek that anymore. 

Flirting with Monday

Chapter 12

 

Judy's green eyes danced as she got out of the commuter train car on a balmy, spring afternoon two months after she nursed me through that sinus headache. I noticed that her eyes danced, because mine didn't. I had been sitting here on the planter for a while trying to digest the stunning news that I held in a letter in my hand. I had the feeling I had been hit in the head and was watching life around me from behind blurry glass, or from under water,. It was as if I was looking at life as a spectator only and not a participant. Judy came toward me, I waved, trying to be cheerful, and she waved back. She came and stopped in front of me, observing my hunched shoulders, my downcast eyes. The letter I had read lay in my hand, she looked down at it and gently took it from me. I did not protest. Silence passed and the train pulled out of the station, human voices babbled around us, my eyes were dry. The sheets rustled in the breeze as Judy put the letter back into my hand, put down her red bag at my feet and joined me on the low brick wall that formed the planter by the railroad tracks, the planter that would witness so many milestones in our budding relationship. She silently took my right hand and said nothing. Moments passed, I wanted to hug her and yet I didn't want to do anything that would crack this wall I had built any further. I could feel the anguish pushing against those boundaries, just to touch her would have brought comfort. I was physically too tired to be emotional, and yet I could feel a ball inside of me squeezing itself around my guts, curling its tentacles into my heart. This wasn't like hitting the pedestrian with the train, that was a different kind of sadness, tears had come easily; this was different. I sat there not saying anything for a while. I looked up at the tracks, there was a green signal, no commuters, I breathed in the warm, fresh air. The planter behind us had a bloom that I did not know, its fragrance came to me on the soft caressing breeze. 

 

"You're on your way home from work?" I asked, finally breaking the silence. Judy was gentle, she did not make me talk about the letter. She only squeezed my hand, caressing another scar, one that was shaped like a trowel, it was ragged and looked painful, though it wasn't. Her eyes were soft, sympathetic, somehow they eased my discomfort. 

 

"I'm on my way to a class," she said. "I am taking some accounting classes for work. How long have you been here, Glen?"

 

"I took the day off," I explained, "that's why you didn't see me on the morning train. Were you looking for me?" I asked, because I wanted to know. I hadn't told her I wouldn't be there. 

 

"I always look for you, Glen," she spoke my name softly. "Always. I didn't see you in the café and I didn't see you waving but I just thought it was because you had your own reasons. You don't tell me everything 

 

"No," I said and let the subject drop. 

 

"It's alright," she assured me. "I'm not here to pry. 

 

"You're catching the train to your class?" I continued the earlier conversation.

 

"No, I'm going out here to catch the bus and then I'll get a ride home from someone."

 

"I see." 

 

"I'm hungry," she said. "I'm going to go get something out of that cafe." 

 

"No errands to run today?"

 

"No. The cats are helping." 

 

"Good." Her reference to her cats made me smile. It felt good to smile and somehow I felt a little bit better. 

 

"Do you want anything from the cafe?" she asked. "Could I leave my red bag here?"

 

I thought about that for a minute. 

 

"You can leave the bag here I'll watch it. Diet Pepsi," I said. I'll take that."

 

I reached into a black, soft leather wallet to get some money. I handed her two dollars. She smiled and was gone. I turned my attention to a freight train coming into the station, the lights winking, and then the tanker cars, the flat cars, a refer car, the engine pushing the train this time. I watched the signals there was a solid green on track two. I waited for the approaching train. It was an Amtrak heading to Chicago. I had operated that train before. I think I had operated just about every train there was till I decided I wanted something more local. The local commuter line was looking for engineers so I applied and got a route just before this one. Maybe it was age, or maybe the train fever was lessening, I don't know, but I had seen the country time and time again. The people were always interesting. I could tell you so many stories, about world travelers I had met on the train, but the most interesting story was this one; the one I'm telling you now. It is the most interesting because it is my story. 

 

Today I was a little worried because it looked like I would be going back to Oregon for a few days to put affairs in order. We were all meeting back there, my brothers would fly in by plane and my sisters would drive in from their respective towns. True to my love and maybe because I needed time to think things over I had gone into the station and bought a ticket on an Amtrak train. The agent had looked at me in surprise.

 

"You don't need a ticket I'm sure," she had said.

 

"It's alright," I said. "I'm not pulling any favors with conductors. I'm going as a passenger; let someone else do the worrying I need the time to think."

 

"Okay," she said taking my credit card. I signed my receipt in a neat, precise hand: Glen R. Streicher, I wrote, deliberately, each letter resting neatly on the page. I looked down at it and my heart ached. I didn't want to make this trip and it was for more than one reason. 



Judy came back with a Diet Pepsi and put it into my right hand. Its cool, wet frostiness felt good on a hand that was warm from the sun. Her eyes lingered on an angry, red scar that ran across the top of that hand. 

 

"Where in the world did you get that?" she asked, not having seen it before. My fingers curled around the can, my thumb slid beneath the tab and popped it, the crisp snapping of the tab audible in the quiet afternoon.

 

"I was painting a house with a friend and standing on a ladder, I fell into a rosebush."

 

"Goodness," Judy exclaimed, her eyes dancing as she sat down beside me. Her reaction to my silly accident made me chuckle quietly to myself, lifting my spirits. The plastic rap on her sandwich crinkled as she removed it from what looked like ham and cheese. 

 

"So that's all you're having for dinner?"

 

"I don't' have much time," she said. "It seems like I'm always in a hurry."

 

"Today you're not," I said with assurance. Damn it all I was going to stop being afraid, maybe. Judy looked at me in surprise. "I'll take you to your class. I have time." 

 

"Really?" She looked relieved and then a little abashed. This time I laughed, the ball inside my stomach lessened its grip just a little. "The car is here," I said "and I can take you. I don't leave till tomorrow." I got my keys. "Let's go get you something real to eat." 

 

Judy did look relieved. She looked like she wanted to hug me.

 

"Thank you," she said, she suddenly looked like she was about to cry. "I'm kind of worried about tonight. I have a test and I'm worried about it. If we go eat then I can spend extra time studying. You're about to make my day." 

 

"Okay" I said, suddenly feeling much better. Judy had always been there for me, now, finally in some small way I could return the favor. 

 

"Let's go now then," I said getting up and helping her off the wall. She slid into my embrace, it seemed very natural, I held her quietly, a train suddenly shrieked behind us, I laid her head against my chest, caressing her back, her very closeness helping to ease my anguish, the anguish I felt over the imminent death of my father, the man who had taught me to work on engines. I owed him something for my discipline. If my mother cared for me my father had taught me discipline and respect, he had encouraged me to go after my dream, that was when he had learned it. 

 

Judy looked up into my face, her eyes fastened on mine. Now my heart pounded a little she would be so easy to kiss. I looked at her, she lifted her head. Suddenly I stood on a precipice if I kissed her there would be no turning back the clock, it would be a sign that I was coming from behind that wall. 

 

"Glen," she said. She stepped back a little as if to make the decision easier, and then I gently pulled her to me and lifted her face, my lips pressed against hers, her mouth opened and I felt her respond gently, encouraging the kiss. I could feel the tidal wave of fear washing over me, I held to Judy mainly because I knew this was one more barrier she had let me approach on my own. I felt her holding me, caressing my cheek. She turned my face away, she caressed my cheek, she stepped back and took my hands. She looked into my face.

 

"I love you Glen Streicher," she said. "You know that."

 

I nodded. I couldn't say that to Judy though I wanted to. She held my hands as if I might be drowning, as if I needed guiding back to the shore of emotional safety.

 

"I'm here," she said. "I'm always here for you. Let's go eat, Mr. Train Engineer. Let's go eat and figure out where we go from here."

 

In my car, I cleared out the front seat, it was messy. I flung a railroad atlas and a map in the back seat. I had come up in the age of paper navigation, even though I found my electronic navigation devices useful I still held on to my backups, just in case. I guess I was always good at holding on to things. 

 

I took Judy's bag from her and put it in the back, then helped her into the car. That was another thing my father had taught me, he had taught me to be helpful, and Judy in this modern day and age didn't seem to mind. She let me shut the door as soon as I saw her safely in the car. I came around to my side and got behind the wheel, buckling myself in and taking out my key. The ring jingled against the steering wheel as I put it in the ignition switch. I looked at Judy out of the corner of one eye, she looked comfortable, she looked contented. Temporarily, I was contented, too. 

 

"How long are you going to be gone?" Judy asked me over tall glasses of iced tea and salads.

 

"Three weeks."

 

The waiter brought steaming plates of rice and vegetables, some chicken, and a beef dish I could hardly pronounce.

 

"We have to sell the house," I said easily. "At least get it on the market. He told us to do that."

 

I couldn't believe the calm I felt telling Judy my personal life. 

 

"Andrew's going to list it. We're going to clean it; mom wants to move into an apartment she says with all of us gone it's too big and too empty and she just wants to do it now."

 

"Now?"

 

"yeah, now. My dad's kind of practical, always has been. We're going to do as much as we can, at least get her settled somewhere. I'll go up there and come back in three weeks. Unless something happens."

 

"The letter sounded as if you had less time than that." 

 

I nodded. 

 

"Yeah. It may not go as planned; life usually never goes as I want it to go." 

 

"Tell me about it," said Judy, digging into her plate she had filled from the dishes that sat on the table. 

 

"Will you miss me?" I asked, brazenly. 

 

I think the question took her by surprise, she looked at me a little unsure of what she should say.

 

"You can tell the truth, we're adults," I said.

 

"Glen," Judy said, suddenly wearing her feelings in her eyes, "I always miss you. There's something about you that draws me to you, it's everything about you. The way you interact with people or want to be by yourself, or the way you interact with animals and the way you stare off into the distance when the trains pull out of the station, or when you're just sitting there, or when you were sick in your house, even then, resting, sitting with your eyes closed or just at your table you're just always comfortable or quiet, or whatever. Yes, I'll miss you."

 

"Okay" I said, knowing I would have to digest all of this on the train.

 

"Are you going to see anyone else while you're in Astoria?" she suddenly asked, throwing me a bit off guard. Anyone else?

 

"I'm not sure what you mean," I asked, I could feel a chill developing in my own mind. That old fear was raising its ugly head.

 

"I don't know," I said. "I'm just here for family." 

 

"Probably," she said, easing my discomfort, "we didn't know any of the same people in Astoria. I wasn't there long enough." 

 

Suddenly I felt hugely relieved. She wasn't going to ask me about Elizabeth or Allison may. She had been right about one thing, the thing that bothered me had happened before I went to work for Union Pacific. Tonight she just sat here holding onto her glass, eating her chicken, looking at me. 

 

"Probably just teachers," I said. "I didn't have that many friends in high school. I was always off train watching."

 

"No dances? No social scene?"

 

"One dance," I said. "But mainly out walking Scarlet. Or just working on things." 

 

"Building things," she said now, "building things. You like to do that." 

 

We sat silently for a while finishing dinner.

 

"Your test," I said. "You want to study for it? Where do you want me to take you?"

 

"The student union," she said. "There's a patio out there. I'll go look at my notes there."

 

"You're going to be okay? You don't need a ride home?"

 

She looked at me with a bit of surprise. She looked at my hands on the table, she touched them.

 

"You're sweet for asking. I'll be fine. You have no idea how grateful I am to you for driving me."

 

"If I can, I will do that," I said. "today was just kind of a different day."

 

"I know," she said. She looked at her watch. I signaled for the check. I took it and got out my credit card. Judy put $2.00 on the table as a tip.

 

"That's all you're going to give him?" I said looking down at the bills. She smiled.

 

"I don't have any more cash. 

 

I pulled out some bills and put them on top of her's. then we left the restaurant. 

 

I watched Judy walk away from the car, she had directed me to a spot near some tables and umbrellas. She waved at me, I smiled. I sat back and watched her walk away, tasting the remnants of chicken and beef and vegetables, and maybe a kiss. I honestly hadn't been this route with any woman since Elizabeth Handling and I felt myself shivering. Shivering but feeling good at the same time. Suddenly, everything started to catch up with me; my feelings for Judy who patiently waited for me, the fact that I was going back home to see my father for the last time and help settle my mother, the fear of perhaps seeing Elizabeth after all this time, even though that possibility seemed very distant, and the kiss. Undone by a kiss I would come from behind that wall. The only thing that seemed to be stable was my job with the passenger railway line. I was scared. Would I ever stop being afraid even though I said I wasn't? I was the one who kept pushing my own boundaries. I kept letting Judy pull away each of the defenses. Her presence was comforting and strengthening, and even fun. I didn't always want this relationship to be so exhausting. Right now, I decided, I needed to go sit back by the railroad tracks, and then I needed to find something to build. Judy was right; I was always building things. I was trying to build a relationship, or maybe Judy was building it. The best thing to do when I got back from Oregon would be to build something physical so I could hammer out a plan. I wanted Judy Flower; I loved her, I needed to start acting like it. She wanted to be my friend; I wanted to be more. But first I had a house to settle and family affairs to take care of. I promised myself I wouldn't let Elizabeth get in the way of my love for Judy anymore. I started the car and drove back to the station. 



Shelley J. Alongi 
Home Office: (714)869-3207
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updated September 13, 2009