Snapshots of Life

I hear the lonely, soulless howl of a train whistle far off in the night and feel the railroad tracks tremble almost imperceptibly under my feet. I pull up the hood of my grey sweatshirt and crouch down, perching precariously on a railroad tie while lighting a joint. I watch the glowing red ember flicker, a thin trail of greyish purple smoke rising from my lips and into the starless sky. I hear the scream of the train whistle again, this time louder and more urgent. The tracks vibrate beneath me. I stare mindlessly down at my phone: five missed calls, several unread text messages, flashing notifications on my email and Facebook. The train whistles again. The tracks begin to shake violently now as I lie down, my body stretched across the rails, head resting on a dusty wooden tie. The crisp, icy November night air nips at my limbs and extremities, but I feel nothing.  I hit the joint again before casting it aside, staring up at the phenomenally clear blackness that looms endlessly and untouchably above me. I hear the train’s warning again and my whole body shudders uncontrollably; the tracks shake and tremble unsteadily beneath me and I feel like I am on the top story of a skyscraper during an earthquake. I can finally see the beacon-like headlight cutting through the shadowy darkness; smell the harsh, overbearing odor of oil, grease, exhaust, and gasoline. I feel the weight of the train’s enormity as it barrels forward. Knowing the train can’t stop, even if it wanted to, makes a sick excitement tickle at my insides like butterflies. The rhythmic sound of the train approaching pounds in my head, louder and louder, the adrenaline rising in my blood and blinding me. My body strains against my mind. Stay still, I tell myself, stay still…The train is all I can see now, its huge form approaching rapidly, the headlights blinding me, tears streaming from my wide, terrified eyes. It’s time. Just as the scene begins to close, the train and I just inches apart, I dive out of the way, throwing myself violently into a pile of dry leaves. The train flies by me, the mocking click-clack of the wheels on the track reverberate in my ears and the heat of the train hitting me with a warm, dark, exhaust-filled cloud. My heart continues to pound as the train fades out of sight. I can still hear it’s whistle, a forlorn and diminishing cry, as it plows through the blackness, only able to see what can be brought to light by the powerful headlights that shine on its front. I see the figure of a tall, thin man approaching, his long hair wild and falling into his shadowed face.

            “Cal?” he asks tentatively, kneeling down beside me. I can’t hear him. My mind is stuck on a constant loop of a scene from a forgotten movie, the words ringing in my ears: You're waiting for a train, a train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you don't know for sure. But it doesn't matter. How can it not matter to you where that train will take you? I can hear her sweet seductive voice, the way the words seemed to linger for a moment on her lips before passing to the open air… The title of the movie eludes me and I’m forced out of my reverie.

            “Hey,” I murmur noncommittally, glancing up at the man’s pale face and wide blue eyes. Adam.

            “What’s up?” he asks, eyeing me cautiously out of the corner of his eye and pulling a loaded bowl out of his pocket. He pulls me into a sitting position and offers it to me, but I decline and tell him to take the green. The dry leaves crackle beneath us, seeming incredibly loud in the silence of the night.  It’s getting close to 2 AM now. Adam knows why I’m here. He smiles at me and lights the bowl, closing his eyes as he inhales deeply. Something about his unobtrusive, quiet presence calms me and I consciously feel myself relax as I fall into casual conversation with him. College would have been nothing without him. Without him and Collin. The three of us were perpetually together, Adam on one side of me, tall, bearded, and reserved and Collin on the other, always smiling, outgoing and quick with a joke. I’m the little girl in the middle; short dark-blue hair, slender build, pierced lip and deep emerald eyes, speckled with flecks of gold and hazel. We all met the first week, killing time at a school sponsored “ice-breaker” that proved itself even lamer than it sounded. We left and made our own icebreaker in the woods, packing bowl after bowl and laughing at the moon. From that night on, the three of us have always stuck together. Others come in and out of our lives like people on elevators, staying for a few moments in time and leaving unmissed and forgotten when they walk away. But we’re always together. Hell, we’re the three best friends that anyone could have.

            “Where’s Collin?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence that rests like a cloud between Adam and I.

            “He’s back at the dorm with Megan. Drunk.” Adam adds, smiling sideways at me.  I laugh and shake my head, picturing Collin’s goofy smile and eyes that always sparkle with a hint of laughter even at the most inappropriate times. His joyfulness has no bounds. He can literally find humor in anything.  

            “Thanks for coming out here,” I say quietly to Adam. He puts his arm around me and I lay my head on his shoulder.

            “Has the train come yet?” he asks, flicking the lighter habitually in his free hand.

            “Yeah,” I murmur. He nods and pulls me tighter to him. I feel him shudder and I know it’s not from cold but fear.

            “Glad you didn’t try to catch a ride on it,” he says, forcing me to meet his eyes.

            “I thought about it,” I said, aware that he knew the weight of my words.

            “You think about it a lot,” Adam said and I was taken aback by the lack of question in his voice. He was making a statement, not asking a question.  I cautiously met his probing gaze but was unable to hold it for long. We walked back to my dorm in silence that night, his arm gently resting on my shoulders and tears running silently down my face.