[stylist] Flirting with Monday chapter 13

[Shelley J. Alongi]

More tears. A cat for Robert. 

Flirting with Monday

Chapter 13

 

Scott Brown  was one of the rail fans I saw often when I came to the station just to sit by the tracks and watch someone else's train go by. I know plenty of people watched mine I could see them sometimes I waved if they looked as if they were interested in knowing who the engineer was; and sometimes I didn't. Tonight after dropping Judy off at her class I sat here by the tracks now, the breeze was cooler, the crowd quieter, the passenger commuter services had pretty much ended, there would be an occasional one that would stop here, but mostly there would be freight trains that would come clattering through here now. It was peaceful here by the tracks; it was a place just to think of nothing, or everything. Tonight there was a lot to think about and I sat there, a little weary, not thinking. Somehow sitting by the tracks had a way of neutralizing stress or if I did think things out, they seemed a lot clearer here. Tonight, after dropping Judy off at her class, I just sat quietly, looking off into the distance, watching young teenage kids walk down the tracks. A shiver went through me, that was not a safe place to be even if there were no trains in sight. 

 

It was now, during a quiet, strengthening moment that Scott joined me on the planter. We acknowledged each other with our eyes but no words passed between us. Somehow as an engineer and a rail fan we both knew that conversation was not always necessary. I looked up as am Amtrak train pulled into the station. My eyes strayed toward the locomotive, it was a GE P42DC one I had operated many times. I knew its sleek, aerodynamic design, it slid past me, the cars falling in line. I watched the doors slide open and the passengers get out, some getting in, a mother wrestled with a heavy bag and a stroller, a passenger behind her steadied the heavy bag on the train step. I knew tomorrow I would be on that train, going back to a place I hadn't seen in at least ten years. I had been back home before for holidays, but not in a while. Many times I had been across country somewhere at some train station waiting for passengers, or on call, and I had responded especially when I ran the freight lines. But this year I would be there long before the holidays and perhaps next year I'd be there as well. 

 

The engine pulled away from the station causing me to look up as the last car slid away, bringing passengers on their way to their own lives. 

 

"Hey Glen," I looked up to see Scott addressing me. I acknowledged him with my eyes.

 

"Don't usually see you around here this late."

 

"no" I said. "Usually I'm home in bed or just getting home."

 

"You're on vacation?"

 

"No. I'm going up to Oregon to take care of family business. I'm taking the train tomorrow."

 

"Oh," he said, "sorry, man."

 

"It's okay," I said. "You never see me here. Kind of out of the ordinary."

 

"I thought maybe you were waiting for your friend or something." 

 

Had the rail fans around here taken notice of Judy and me being together so much? Probably, these guys were a pretty observant bunch. They probably saw her meet me off the train, or saw us sitting here together on the planter.

 

"She's a nice girl, man. She really likes you." 

 

"yeah," I agreed. "I know." 

 

"You like her?"

 

"I do like her," I admitted. "Very much."

 

"Well," Scott said, turning his eyes to the lights of an approaching freight train, "she's a nice girl. Don't let her get away." 

 

We both fell silent as the sharp clashing notes of the horn on the approaching freight cut through the night. The lights grew brighter as it came through the station. Conversation halted for a long time as we counted the cars.

 

"You know anything about her?" I asked, tentatively.

 

"I know she likes you," he said again. "And I know she's a pretty busy girl. Takes care of her mom in a nursing home I think. She has a couple of brothers out of state. You're always busy leaving or taking her to dinner or just busy. She is a busy girl."

 

"I know she is in charge of a girl scout troop," I said, remembering our first dinner date had been postponed because of it.

 

"Yeah. Well, Glenn," Scott said, "you just don't let her get away. She sits here and waits for you and watches the trains, I always see her reading books about trains. When your train comes in she looks up at your window to see your face." 

 

I smiled to myself; it was true. I was always waving and I knew Judy looked for me. Sitting up in that cab by myself, Judy's  attention was definitely a bright spot in my day. 

 

"Judy's not crazy like this guy," he said, pointing to another man who made his way slowly along the path by the tracks. The man in question wore blue jeans and a black tee, and carried an old, black laptop case, frayed at the edges. We nodded to him as he rolled the case past us and walked toward the other end of the tracks.  

"At least she doesn't carry her laptop with her like he does."

 

I nodded and had to laugh. Judy was definitely not interested in following train traffic online. 

 

"Glen," Scott said. "I had a woman like that once. I let her go. Don't you make that same mistake."

 

He got up. I pulled my black sweater closer around me to protect against the stiffening breeze, or was it the chill in my heart. Scott's words had touched a nerve. I didn't dare think of Judy getting away, and yet I was still hesitant, even if that scared feeling was slowly dissolving in Judy's warmth. 

 

"I just wanted to say that," he explained. "I'm not trying to make you do anything except not to make my mistake."

 

Scott put out his hand. I took it the handshake was brief and friendly.

 

"Thanks for listening, Glen," he said. "Good luck with your family, man."

 

I was about to respond when my phone blared out its insistent shrill train whistle sound. It startled me, usually I didn't get calls this late at night, Most people knew I had to get up in the morning and didn't call me, so it was with surprise that I looked at the phone id and saw that it was Judy. 

 

"Judy," my voice registered surprise. I listened to the voice on the end of the line, a little apologetic, a little frantic.

 

"Glen! Where are you? Are you near here? I'm sorry my ride got sick and left class early. I could call a cab," she repeated again, as if to let me know she wasn't going to be upset if I couldn't pick her up. "I just thought I'd ask and see if you were still here. The buses don't run this late that's usually plan B but I thought if you're in the area maybe I could get that ride home you keep offering."

 

"I'll be there," I said, a little more cheerfully than I expected. 

 

The tracks were clear, there was a green light, the breeze was cooling and blowing just a bit and I was tired and needed to get home.  It would be cold sitting at a bus stop now or waiting for a cab. I had seen plenty of people out here waiting for cabs when I finished my night run. 

 

"where do you want me to meet you?"

 

"Where you dropped me off. That's fine."  

 

I got out of the car and walked around to her side of it, opened the door. The wind had kicked up, Judy had put on her fur jacket.

 

"hello," I said. She reached for me, I hugged her, kissed her quietly on the cheek. Somehow this kiss wasn't so frightening. She turned her head, her lips met mine and it was a moment before either of us spoke again.

 

"Nice to see you," I whispered, feeling that old desire creeping up within me, not wanting at the moment to fight it. She clung to me with her small hands, smiled.  Then she stepped back and looked at me gently. I gazed back. She slid her hand under my chin, lifted my face.

 

"thank you for coming," she said. "I am grateful."

 

"I was just at the station," I answered, helping her into the car and taking her bag. I dropped it in the back seat and closed her door. I slid behind the wheel again looking at her.

 

"Your test?" I asked. "Was it so bad?"

 

"It wasn't bad," she said. "I think I did okay. I was just worried." 

 

"I know about those tests," I said. "I still have to pass them for work and sometimes they make me nervous." 

 

"Are you packed?" she asked as I made my way toward her house. "I stopped to let someone pass on my left and then watched the signal and waited for the lane to be clear so I could proceed.

 

"yes I am," I said. "The kids are taken care of. Everything's pretty much in order." 

 

"And you're okay? I didn't ask before."

 

I was silent for a moment. My eyes welled with tears, then they were gone, there was so much about this trip I wanted to tell her. Judy saw my struggle and touched my arm. 

 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to upset you." 

 

The engine purred quietly and smoothly as I parked in her driveway and disengaged it. A moment of silence passed while the car settled. Judy turned to me and took my hands.  

 

"You've never really told me about your family, Glen. I saw your pictures on the wall. "That's all I know."

 

"Not that much to tell," I said my voice husky, "just hard working people in eastern Oregon."

 

"No railroad ties?"

 

"No," I said. "No. Just me. Dad was a mechanic for an auto shop his whole life. Andrew's a lawyer. Laura's a waitress and has three kids; Sarah she's an attorney. We have two attorneys. Jim he paints airplanes." 

 

"And mom?" she wanted to know.

 

"Mom is a homemaker. Grew up when life wasn't so complicated for girls. She never worked outside the home. Dad took care of her. She made that quilt on my bed; you've seen it do you remember?" 

 

Judy was silent for a moment; she seemed to be searching through her memory.

 

"I remember," she said. "you were not feeling well with that sinus headache, I walked in your room with you when you went to lie down; I didn't really notice it I was paying more attention to you."

I smiled. I squeezed her hands.

 

"It's a blue and white checkered quilt. She makes things like that. Keeps her busy." 

 

"and then there's you," she finished telling my family story, "Glen the railroad guy; who likes horses and dogs. Sounds very good."

 

I fastened my eyes on Judy. I couldn't tell her anything else. She didn't seem to want to ask. Suddenly I just wanted to hold Judy. I turned to her, she didn't seem to be in a hurry.

 

"Are you working in the morning?" I asked. "It might be getting late."

 

"Afternoon," she said. "I'm working a late shift tomorrow. I could meet you for breakfast at the station."

 

"Train leaves earlier about 8:00," I said. "I don't want you to get up that early. Not when you have a chance to sleep in." 

 

She saw my face, my eyes a question. I was the one who should be in charge here. I should want to go but I didn't want to go. Judy sat back and watched me struggle, then she took my hand and kissed it.

 

"You're my sweet Glen," she said quietly. "Let's just sit here. I won't see you for three weeks."

 

"Come here," I said. "I know you don't want sparks."

 

"You can hold me" she said. "Hold me." 

 

We somehow managed to get close, I held her, her head on my chest, just breathing. I kept my hands away from places I knew would arouse us. I didn't want that. I just wanted to trace her hair, to breathe in her scent, to turn my head away an look at the stars sometimes. She was warm and welcoming and she rubbed my back, she traced my dark curly hair, she kissed my cheek. She slipped her fingers into mine.

 

"I'll be waiting when you get back," she whispered gently.

 

"I know you will. My Judy flower, you're so patient." 

 

I could feel myself shaking a little; Judy's hands eased my trembling. The thing that amazed me even then as we lay together just holding each other was that Judy did not ask me to tell her anything I didn't want to tell her. I think she knew that eventually I would tell her; I would have to. She knew she had to crack through the barriers gently, she wanted to wait. It made me love her even more. 

 

"Judy," I said into her ear. I could smell her perfume. I was relaxed, easy, deliberately keeping this low key. "I want to tell you something." 

 

"What is it, Glen?"

 

"You are right," I said. "You were right two months ago when you said I was in love with you. I am in love with you." I moved my head to find her lips. "but I'm very afraid," I admitted. "There's something I'm afraid to tell you." Suddenly I thought I would cry. I didn't want to get so emotional tonight, not with so much to do in the next few weeks. "I can't tell you," I said, suddenly weeping, putting my head on her chest and sobbing. "Not tonight." 

 

Judy lay quietly while my agony spent itself. "I'm sorry" I said. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." 

 

"did you kill somebody?" she asked almost lightly. 

 

"No," I half laughed through my tears. "No." 

 

"Okay then," she said. "Whatever it is, honey, I'll wait. Unless you're being stubborn and don't want to face it. I'll wait. If you do that," she said gently, "Then I'll be angry. Glen, if you're afraid I'll leave you, I want you to know. I'm not going to leave you over some dark secret of your past. Eventually you'll have to tell me. But I'm not leaving you. I told you that two months ago, remember?" 

 

I sniffled, my tears drying. 

 

"I'm not going to leave you, Glen. I know what I've got." 

 

She was right. It made me shiver a bit because I knew she was telling the truth. Part of me was in pain over my own mistake, part of me was afraid she would leave me. Why would she leave me over a daughter? I don't know. Elizabeth had left me without warning. Part of me knew it wasn't having Allison may that would make her leave me. What if she woke up tomorrow and decided she couldn't be my friend anymore? I didn't think I could handle that. 

 

Judy's body was warm, her heartbeat strong, her hands gentle on my neck. My hot tears dried. It was enough for tonight. We had gotten through this moment together; she was going to make me face my fear. Part of me shivered and part of me rejoiced.

 

It was a very conflicted Glen Streicher who slowly moved away from Judy, caressing her hair with my scarred hands. Her eyes fell on them.

 

"You have a lot of scars to explain to me," she said gently.

 

"I know," I said. "When I get back," I promised. "We'll go to dinner. We'll go to a concert or walk in the park or just watch movies. I'll tell you more about those scars. But I have a train to catch in the morning." 

 

I took Judy's hand and walked with her up the cement walkway, a gentle breeze cooled my tear-stained face, eased my heart. Judy snuggled close to me, she shivered a little in the cool night air. She put her head against my sweater. We took the three little steps that led to her door. She fumbled in a black purse for her keys. I took them from her and fitted them into the lock. I turned the key for her, the door slid open quietly, the smell of ground coffee came to us on the warmth that beckoned us from her entry hallway. 

 

I turned Judy to face me, my hands resting gently on her back. 

 

"Glen, how long will it take you to get up to Oregon." 

 

"A day and a half." 

 

"You have that long to relax. To sleep. To get ready for your work up there. I hope it's not too hard." 

 

"I hope so, too," I whispered. "Mom is a good woman; she'll be well taken care of and she'll go through life remembering him. We'll all make sure she's okay." 

 

"And you? You will be fine, too."

 

"I will miss him." I stood there for a moment, my breath coming quietly, easily, I felt myself taking strength from Judy's heartbeat. "He taught me a lot; mostly how to live in this world; make it on my own. My mom taught me how to cook. She was determined that her sons would go out and know how to take care of themselves. How we lived our lives was our business. But we would know how to cook and clean up after ourselves anyway, oh and keep track of money. My father he taught me values; respect, discipline, responsibility. Those are important things."

 

"Did he teach you to love trains?" 

 

The door stood open behind us; a shadow fell across it. Judy turned and shut the door, quelling a protesting meow. We stood outside in the cool, dry air. I turned and looked over my shoulder, the sky was clear, beautiful, the stars shone brightly. I looked around for the swing. It stood waiting, I led her to it. We sat down together on the vinyl seat, the chains squeaking under our weight, then rocking gently. A long moment passed while the movement of the swing became steady and calming. 

I lay Judy's hand on my knee, just looking down at the soft skin of her fingers curling into mine. 

 

"He didn't teach me to love trains," I admitted. "That came on my own. I don't' know how, really. I don't' know if anyone can ever explain that. I guess I heard whistles blow in the night. I would walk down to the tracks during the day, see the different color engines, and their different designs, how tall they were, the smoke stacks on the steam engines, the smooth tops of all the other ones. I just liked them. They're so different." 

 

Judy said nothing. I sat with her looking up at the sky. I squeezed her hand.

 

"I've got to go," I said, not wanting to leave. Judy sat there for a moment, she turned her gaze to look at me. 

 

"Glen, do you know that you have a way of explaining things. When you talked just now your eyes lit up. You inspire passion in people, do you know that? It's part of what draws me to you, besides everything else." 

 

"I'm glad," I said. "I'm glad you love me for who I am." 

 

"yes," she said softly, stroking my hand. "I do. Just remember that." 

I smiled, taking Judy's hand and helping her to her feet. I held her close for one more moment.

"I'll remember," I said. "I promise."


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