Terminal Regression Page 2

  Chapter 2

  <<<

  Mom and I got home late or, rather, early. I figured there was no use going to bed at that point. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

  Mom washed up and joined me on the couch.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Well, I’m dying. Other than that, I’m just fine.”

  She sighed almost irritably. “Laura, it isn’t death.”

  “Mom, I’m getting on a train and never coming back. You know how it works. I can’t have any luggage or provisions. I have to give up everything. Tell me how I can have a life without resources. With no connections or concept of what I’m getting into, how can I… How can I do this?” And I was crying. It had only been a matter of time.

  “Sweetheart.” She opened her arms, and I crawled in. “I know what you think. I know it seems like the end, but that just isn’t true. Honey, you don’t need any luggage to be alive. This is just a little adventure. You get to travel into the unknown and find your calling out there. It doesn’t surprise me at all that you need more. You’ve always been so special. Like your dad.”

  She was making it worse. I didn’t want that kind of life. I didn’t want any life. I just wanted to stop and not feel so ridiculously conflicted about it. This was what I needed.

  And talking about Dad could in no way make me feel better. My dad hadn’t just died, he’d been killed. He’d had a calling, a family, everything in the world to live for. But they sent him a ticket anyway. I tried to swallow down all eight years worth of the damage that had done and form a coherent response.

  “Dad was an artist.” That was all I came up with. “Dad was incredible.”

  She nodded. “But he was never satisfied… Life perplexed him. It wasn’t enough to see the beauty in it, he needed reasons… When his ticket arrived, we knew he’d finally get those reasons. He could go on without distractions and truly live his life to the fullest.”

  “He had to leave us,” I objected. How was that a full life? How was having your whole world ripped away anyone’s definition of a full life?

  She wiped my tears. I’d never understood how she’d just let him go. Why hadn’t she gotten tickets for all of us if she really believed there was life out there?

  “Yes, he did… Laura, sometimes what’s best for someone supersedes what they want or even the commitments they’ve made. Your daddy loved you so much, but he had a duty to himself. He had to follow his calling. That’s all a ticket is. Another opportunity to find where you belong.”

  I tried to get ahold of myself. I wanted her to be right about dad, but it didn’t make sense. If he or any of the other passengers had survived they would have come home and visited and shared their stories. It wasn’t an extended community. People didn’t just abandon the people they loved.

  But I was leaving my mom. Leaving her alone the same way my dad had if not worse. Yes, it was on my list of regrets, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

  “Mom, are you happy here?” I asked.

  I wanted the truth, the truth I knew had to exist somewhere inside of her, the truth I so wanted to be the truth just to make me feel validated in my misery.

  “You know I am,” she said, shattering my last remaining hope. “This is what’s right for me. Honey, you’re a lovely artist, but your heart’s never been in it.”

  I nodded, feeling a little pang of something in my gut. No matter how far I fell, the truth of my mediocrity never failed to shove me down deeper. “I’ve tried. I want to love it. I want to love so many things, but I can’t… I can’t keep pretending.”

  “I don’t want you to. You’ll find your calling. And whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

  Just fine. I was sick of fine. I was sick of people telling me I’d figure it out someday. I was sick of my mom and her perfect life and her perfect outlook on everything and her perfect lack of concern for anything that mattered.

  Just fine. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe I wanted her to step in and demand I return the ticket, not that she had any right to do so. Maybe, and this was awful, I wanted to upset her. Maybe I wanted to see her cry for me and prove that she really loved me. But then, what had I ever done to deserve her love? I’d been a burden in her carefree life and couldn’t even actively contribute to the community she’d sworn allegiance to.

  She’d be just fine. Without me, she’d be perfectly fine. I wanted to be relieved, but honestly I was mortified. She didn’t need me. So it was time to move on.

  I didn’t need to pack, but during the final hours, I straightened up my room a little bit. Most of my stuff was trash if I wasn’t around to use it. Old schoolwork I’d once been proud of, the drawings Mom forced me to display so I could track my improvement. Nothing I owned was even slightly indicative of who I was. I could easily part with it.

  My dad’s stuff proved a bigger challenge. I’d kept some of his clothes and a lot of his work. He’d made me a picture book when I was a kid. It was about me traveling through the world of fairy tales. Swimming with mermaids, dancing with royalty—everything a little girl dreams of. When he left, I’d looked through that book every night and it was like he was there telling me the stories. At least he wouldn’t have to know. In his eyes, I’d forever be that hopeful child, never the wreck I’d become.

  It’d be up to Mom to decide what she wanted to keep and what would be redistributed. So I left it alone eventually, knowing it’d be easier to just let go.

  I got my ticket ready. The sun was coming up, so it was time to go.

  Mom grabbed her purse. “Ready?”

  I hated how calm she was. She was losing her only child forever. How was this so easy for her?

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  She smiled at me and ushered me out the door.

  There was nothing remarkable about the city. No one was really out at that hour, so it was quiet. Just another uneventful morning. No one would ever know it was my last.

  The terminal was located at the wall or, rather, under it. There were other passengers on the stairs down. Naturally, they didn’t appear to be in the best of moods.

  Mom was still all smiles and waves. I was embarrassed for her. She was just horribly out of her element. This was a somber occasion, the most somber we’d ever encounter. Did she really just have no respect for us?

  The train doors opened and an automated voice told us to board.

  Mom hugged me tightly. “Have a lovely time, Laura.”

  Just like that. Like I was going on some kind of vacation. I pulled away from her roughly, fighting off tears.

  “Goodbye, Jane.”

  She gave me a look. It wasn’t at all remorseful, just mildly annoyed by my attitude.

  “Well, I love you,” she said.

  I nodded. “Yeah… I love you too.”

  She smiled. “You’re going to be fine, honey. Trust me.”

  I kept nodding, but I did not believe her for a moment. This was the end. I had a one-way ticket to my death; why bother sugarcoating it?

  As calmly as I could, I boarded the train. So ended life as I knew it.

  Chapter 3

  <<<

  I took a seat by the window. It never made sense that underground trains had windows, and it made even less sense that I thought my proximity to one might improve the quality of my final journey.

  The car filled up pretty quickly. Some people chose not to sit for whatever reason. Perhaps when faced with death it’s best to be on your toes. But I wanted to be comfortable. If at all possible, I wanted to drift peacefully into unconsciousness and succumb to its sweet silence. But I knew there were those less willing than I.

  When we started to move I closed my eyes. It became all too real. My stomach twisted and my heart began racing. I tried to convince myself it was all right. Death was rest. Deat
h was peace. It was just a moment and afterwards I’d be fine.

  “Laura?”

  I opened my eyes. Holding onto one of the overhead rails near me was a vaguely familiar young man. “Laura Baily?”

  I looked him over, trying to remember. “Do I know you?”

  The way he looked at me was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was like he was dreaming, like everything around him was a little out of focus and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there.

  “Uh, yeah, we…we went to school together years ago,” he stammered. “Will Noble?”

  Well, someone had aged beautifully. We must have been in fifth grade the last time I saw him. I hardly recognized him as petrified as he was, but I couldn’t really blame him. I wondered how he’d ended up on my train so young. He’d always seemed so well adjusted.

  “Yeah, I remember you.”

  He smiled, seeming slightly more at ease. “You should. We were only best friends.”

  It didn’t feel right smiling on the train. Just speaking felt wrong, but I wasn’t going to ignore him.

  “As I recall, you were best friends with everyone.”

  He nodded. “True. But I’m sure you were my favorite. Can I sit with you?”

  I scooted closer to the window. “Be my guest.”

  I had wanted my last moments to be for isolated contemplation. I’d thought I could use the train ride to mentally prepare myself for whatever came next. Will seemed to have had another idea. He sat down in the seat next to me.

  “So,” he began, “we’re heading out.”

  “Yes, we are,” I said quietly, hoping we weren’t disturbing anyone.

  “Pretty scary.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. That was totally what I needed to hear as we sped off towards certain death.

  “Only when you draw attention to it,” I muttered a little too harshly.

  He looked at me. “I’m not trying to make this hard, honestly. I just don’t know what to talk about.”

  “You want to talk?” I glanced around at the other passengers. They were expressionless, all facing their respective versions of forward and not meeting anyone’s eyes.

  “Well, yeah. What have you been up to?”

  I choked out a bitter laugh. “Obviously not enough.”

  He stared at me for a moment. “Okay, I get it. I’ll just shut up.” He sat back and turned away from me. He didn’t look right that way. I remembered him as the happiest kid in school. He was always smiling and joking. It killed me to see that part of him die.

  I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been doing mediocre work in the artist community and dabbling in exploring the other options. What about you?”

  He gave me a sideways glance, deciding whether or not my attitude was worth his trouble. “To use your terms, I’ve been dabbling in law. I wanted to get into enforcement.”

  “Like a cop?”

  “Apparently the preferred term is keeper of the peace. I thought it’d be cool to patrol the city in my uniform of authority, keep people in line, inspire justice.” He shrugged, but I could tell he was trying to impress me. Oddly enough, it was sort of working.

  “Wow. Sounds like you’ve got a hero complex.”

  He chuckled nervously. “You have no idea. Anyway, I guess it wasn’t meant to be. A lot wasn’t meant to be.”

  It was so much worse for people who actually had a life to lose. Will had found his calling, and it was a wonderful, necessary calling too. Tickets were only supposed to be sent to people who didn’t contribute much after a considerable opportunity to do so. Will was still so young. Why hadn’t they given him a chance?

  “My mom says it’s not the end,” I said quietly. “She says it’s another chance to find what we’re meant for.” I didn’t know why I said that. Giving people false hope was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “I wish I could believe that,” he said. He turned to me and spoke softly. “Laura, we’re dying. Maybe death is beautiful; I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I had a good life. And right now, I can’t imagine finding something better when we get to the terminal. This feels bad. It feels like a punishment.”

  Ordinarily, that would have freaked me out. But there was something about the way he opened up to me so readily that comforted me.

  “I know it’s been years, but from what I know of you, you’re not a bad guy. You believe in justice, right? You’ll get what you deserve.”

  He nodded. “I just… Justice in my mind may not be the justice in play here. People have different concepts of right and wrong. Sometimes what seems right ends up getting you in trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m just saying, what if?”

  “Well, your intentions have to count for something. I think as long as you meant to do the right thing the actual result is arbitrary.”

  He was quiet for a minute. I suppose it was possible that we’d be judged by standards we hadn’t considered. But he was just scaring himself. We’d be fine. We’d die and that was that.

  At least, that was what I wanted and what I thought I deserved. I hadn’t asked for heaven nor would I be so presumptuous as to ask for it now. My actions had condemned me to this fate. I had no right to ask for a reward when I’d been so inconsequential. But a punishment? I hadn’t done anything despicable. Not really.

  “How long until we know?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m literally in the same position you are. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  He nodded and kept nodding for quite a while.

  “Um, this is weird, but I’m really glad you’re here,” he said at last. “Not that you’re dying. I’d just hate to be alone right now.”

  That made me feel really good. Maybe this was my calling. Being here with him in his last moments. Callings didn’t have to be big or lasting; I was sure they could be moments. It didn’t feel the way Patrick had described it. I could have easily been by myself and stuck to my original contemplation plan. But fate had placed Will on this train with me. I couldn’t ignore the possibility it was for a reason.

  “Well, I’ll be here,” I said, a genuine smile on my face. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  He started nodding again. Fairly suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me. I felt him taking deep breaths. He didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go, but I was comfortable enough.

  We didn’t talk anymore. The physical contact seemed to be enough for him. So I did get my contemplation time. Unfortunately, I was just the slightest bit distracted.

  Why were people so opposed to the idea of death? If they had reason to fear the afterlife that was understandable, but death itself, the simple action, was so easy. You just stop. You just aren’t.

  I closed my eyes again. Will was still right there holding onto me. I would have felt just fine dying like that. It was almost full circle that way. Eyes closed and nestled against someone.

  Oddly enough, he was really soft. Not pillow-like or anything, but his body was relaxed despite the fear in his head and the pounding of his heart. And, not to be weird, but he smelled nice too. Familiar maybe. Overall, he was a pleasant concoction of sensory material that I had not anticipated accompanying me to my death. It was almost enjoyable enough that the situation lost some of its formidable gravitas. Just a boy and a girl sitting on a train.

  Which begged the question, when was the last time I’d felt like this? Had I ever? Mom hugged me all the time, and just last night I’d been in a similar position with Patrick. But this was new. It was camaraderie, kinship, a special bond like no other. We would be each other’s last memory. He was my final sensation, and my doomed mind interpreted that as something vivid and meaningful.

  Dying was beautiful. The accommodations of one’s own subconscious, preparing you for the end, make the
final moments beyond compare. I could die peacefully, even happily. Which should have been impossible for me.

  “Laura?”

  I opened my eyes. Had we stopped? Being underground, the window offered me no answers. But we were no longer in motion. Whatever happened next happened here.

  Toward the front of the car, the door slid open. Those near it began to exit. Will let go of me as we stood but took my hand as we joined the procession out.

  It was a terminal almost identical to the one we’d come from. We’d made it off the train alive.

  Then I panicked. If the train didn’t kill us, what would?

  Chapter 4

  <<<

  As we moved through the crowd, a voice came on through overhead speakers.

  “Please locate your ticket. Please proceed to the exit corresponding with your ticket.” It kept repeating over the chaos.

  There were signs up showing the different exits: M, S, P, and V.

  “I’ve got P,” Will said, still holding tightly to my hand.

  “Mine’s V. I guess this is goodbye.” So much for my beautiful final memory.

  He nodded, his concern becoming quite physically evident. “I guess. Well, good luck.” Reluctantly, he dropped my hand.

  “You too.”

  Letting go of him was letting go of the past, of life, of all things known and predictable. Something was waiting to kill me. I had to face it alone.

  There were very few people taking the V exit. It was a dimly lit hallway. I kept glancing around for signs. Maybe the walls would cave in or gas would be pumped in through the air vents. Maybe the whole hall would go up in flames and obliterate any trace of our existence. Or maybe I was being really dramatic and gory and we’d receive a civilized explanation first because you can’t just treat people that way. Obviously, that was what happened.

  The hallway opened up into a small room. To my surprise, there was a staircase. There was something above the terminal. With no seats, we gathered in the center of the room until it seemed everyone was present.