[stylist] Flirting with Monday chapter 19

[Shelley J. Alongi]

We're almost to the end of book one. This is going to be it for a week I think. I work hours and I have a train meeting tomorrow, then I need to work on the print issues of S&s so enjoy.
flirting with Monday

Chapter 19

 

The text message was our primary means of communication over the next few weeks. I was relegated to my spot in the locomotive transporting passengers to their hectic lives and taking care of my own between times. I peered anxiously at my phone off hours for updates. She was very busy. I missed her. But I knew she had to deal with her own things. There would be time for me. She seemed hesitant to leave me out but I said it was okay, these were things that I couldn't help with, not having any personal knowledge of her mother. Much as I had dealt with my own family affairs, Judy was now dealing with hers, and I was happy to wait. I had been to the funeral, I had whisked her away for a brief escape to the coast and the mountains. If she needed me she could let me know I'd be there in a minute. My own long days and short nights kept me occupied. Perhaps Magnet, Vincent, and Angel missed Judy as much as I did, but all of us would wait our turn and be our own kind of family. 

 

Finally on a cool gloomy day in June, she wrote that she was free on a Friday night, could we have dinner together? It didn't matter if it was after my shift ended, she had time, so whatever time I was available was fine with her. I wrote back to say that Friday would be fine, meet me at the ending station and we'd take it from there. 

 

I miss you Judy, I wrote. Hang tight. T E. 

 

The air hissed as I set the brakes and shut down the power supply and brought the big throbbing engine to silence. I looked in my book,  filled out the last bit of paperwork, confirmed with my conductor that everything was in order, and climbed down the ladder. I acknowledged the greeting of some regular passengers and waved at a man and a woman sitting by the tracks looking longingly for trains. 

 

"They'll be here," I said cheerfully. "Just freights now." 

 

This train would move soon back to its regular place for the night, but now, my time was done. I smiled at the rail buffs and headed directly into the station to meet Judy. Judy got up from the bench she had been occupying and hurried toward me, almost hurling herself at me in some type of relief, her gentle fragrance surrounding me, reminding me of her warmth.

 

"Hey," I laughed and smiled, "you're here." I gathered her to me.

 

"It's nice to see you," she whispered. "So nice to see you." 

 

I took Judy's hand and we walked out to my car and made the trip to our favorite Mexican restaurant in silence. Since Judy took the bus to the train station I told her not to worry I'd be her set of wheels for the evening. I would be happy to do that. 

The quiet strains of mariachi music met us as we walked with the waiter back to our usual spot. The Friday night crowd had adjourned to the bar and we could hear occasionally raucous talk and laughter as we sat down across from each other. We hid behind the menu for a moment but knew what we wanted and soon set them aside. Judy's face seemed serious in the soft light of the lamp that hung over our table, her hands lay quietly before her, her usually dancing green eyes quieter tonight. 

 

"My Judy Flower," I said, "you've been through a lot I can see that." 

 

"yes," she said, taking a sip of the water that the waiter now placed on the table. She hid her answer in another sip for a moment and then looked at me again. 

 

"Glen, I'm really glad to see you. I know I already said that. I just wanted to say it again. Thanks for meeting me after your shift." 

 

I nodded silently. I sat back, happy to be here, no demands, no crisis, no secrets, at least not tonight. Judy was preoccupied with her own troubles; mine were far away. 

 

"How's it going?" I asked. "Everyone's gone now back home? You're by yourself?"

 

My younger sister Olivia is with me. We're going through mom's papers. We just have to get it done now. I don't want to be waiting a year. Some people wait a while to go through papers. I want to go through all of them now while I have the time off. I go back to work a week from Monday. I at least want these papers organized by then."

 

"Her house?" I asked quietly, waving the waiter away. He disappeared discretely.

 

"We sold the house a month ago when we put her in the home. We put all her things in my garage. I'm arranging for thrift stores to pick up some of her things and I'm keeping others. Olivia is taking some things back with her when she flies back home next Friday. I'll have the weekend to get my own things together. Frankly I'll be glad to get back to work. Luckily for us we had started taking things out of the house and distributing them earlier. We didn't want to be faced with all that later. We're almost done. But it's been hard and I've been up to my eyes in work. That's why I haven't text messaged you very much or called you or anything. I'll be back on the train a week from Monday." 

 

"Magnet and Angel and Vincent miss you," I said lightly. "Maybe you can come over and see them sometime?"

 

"And eat your chicken and broccoli casserole?" she smiled. "I'd be very interested in the cake. You decorate a nice cake."

 

"Would you like that?" my heart skipped a beat. 

 

"I would like that." 

 

We ate our meal in silence, a comforting, comfortable silence. Judy seemed to relax in the quiet restaurant amidst the smells of garlic and spices, the murmur of conversation around us, the discrete moving about of the staff serving the diners. I sighed, too, this quiet night, refreshing, debriefing from the wearying week, humans who had been through similar circumstances together, drawing strength from each other, being comforted by food and drink and love. 

 

We stepped outside into the cool June night, noticing the fog as it slowly built overhead. Two children skipped passed us, their frantic parents trying to keep up. A car door closed, the sound carrying to us, somewhere some crickets started to chirp. We walked in comfortable companionship to my car, I opened Judy's door and helped her inside. I had cleaned out the car in the morning, trying to keep the mess to a minimum. Sometimes I could be sloppy, I didn't want Judy to ride in my messy car. I handed her the strap for the belt and glanced at her face one more time. 

"You do look tired, honey," I told her. She nodded as I shut her door. 

 

I got in behind the wheel and looked over to see tears trickling from the corner of her eyes. I put out my hand and touched her hand, it lay stiffly on her knee.

 

"Should I ask?" I asked quietly.

 

"No," she said, looking a little annoyed.

 

I curled up a little but I put the key into the ignition and we drove the five miles to her house in silence. So many times I had been upset and Judy had just been there. I wasn't sure what to say and I wasn't sure I would know all the reasons for her tears. I turned off the engine and just sat there for a moment. Judy sniffled. I turned to her and put my arms about her, pulling her toward me. She did not resist. Her head fell against my chest, her tears wet on my neck. I held her for a long time. I kissed her forehead, saying nothing. She moved in my arms, turning her face to look up at me, her eyes red and weary and soft.

 

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

 

"You didn't snap at me," I said. "I'm here." 

 

"Thank you," she whispered. "Don't mind if I go inside. I'm exhausted." 

 

"You're not sleeping?" I asked her, stroking her soft golden curls. 

 

"Not always," she confessed. "We were very close. I think about her at night and in the mornings. My sleeping patterns are all messed up. Glen, can I ask you, did you lose sleep after your father died? I know it wasn't that long ago." 

 

"No," I confessed meekly. "I didn't. I lost more sleep after the train hit the pedestrian." 

 

I felt awkward about saying that, but Judy nodded her head. She understood.

 

"The relationship was different," I explained. "It was a good one. But yours was more involved." I hugged her to me. She was quiet. 

 

"Well," I said, moving away from her and opening the car door, "hopefully you can sleep tonight and tomorrow morning." 

 

"Yeah," she said, "I think I will. Just seeing you helps. Come on," she smiled through the remainder of her tears, "let's go inside." 

 

Judy stood beside me now, her blue and white checkered blouse and skirt complimenting her slender figure, her face quieter now. I held my arms out, she hugged me.

 

"Are you sleeping late tomorrow?" she asked me.

 

"Probably," I rubbed my eyes with one hand, it had been a long week. "That sounds nice." 

 

I moved close, my lips finding her's, she held me there, the kiss lingered, she leaned against me for a moment, unwilling to leave this place.

 

"Hey," I said, in a low voice, "you call me if you can't sleep tonight ok? Or text me. Maybe calling me would be better." 

 

"Glen," she said suddenly seeing me it seemed for the first time. "You're a very gentle man. I like that." She tousled my hair, ran her fingers through it, leaned her cheek near mine. I kept my arms about her, rubbing her back. "I promise," she whispered. "If I can't sleep I'll call you. But," she chuckled a little, "you deserve your shut eye." 

 

I laughed, sometimes the way Judy said things was just cute. 

 

"Well, anyway," she said holding my hand and smiling up into my own weary eyes, "tomorrow is going to be a quiet day. I think Olivia and I are going to go have a quiet breakfast together and then get back to work. Tonight Olivia is out with some friends she met online somewhere. If you think I'm a social butterfly," she smiled, "you should see my sister. She knows everyone." "You're a social butterfly on the train," I said. "You know everyone in those cars." 

 

"It will be nice to get back to it," she said. "And you, too." 

 

"What about that cake," I said, reminding her of our conversation. "Did you want me to make it maybe next Saturday?" 

 

"I would like that." She smiled, "I like white cake with vanilla frosting."

 

"And chicken and broccoli casserole?"

 

"I like that, too."

 

"I'll make something different," I said, my eyes dancing.

 

"anything you make will be fine," she said. She took my hand. "Walk me to my door like a gentleman," she said suddenly mischievous. "Next Saturday will come lickity split. I'll bring something for the kids."


Shelley J. Alongi 
Home Office: (714)869-3207
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"What sparked your interest in trains?"
"The face of an engineer who knew he was going to get killed by a freight train."
---SJA for anyone who wants to know
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 September 24, 2009