"From the Train Window" by James

Most people prefer to sit facing forward on a train. The seats are often arranged in clusters of four: two facing forward and two facing back. When an average person boards the train and walks the aisle to select his seat, he will give priority to selecting a seat that faces in the direction that the train is travelling.

The girl in the brown skirt preferred to sit facing backwards. She liked the dreamy feeing that it gave her to watch the scenery slowly disappear in front of her rather than the queasy, blurry feeling it gave her to watch it speed towards her. She felt she could make better sense of her environment in this way.

Even so, today she was sitting facing forward. The backward-facing seats across from her were vacant; she had chosen to sit in this direction. This girl with brown hair and brown shoes was usually slightly shy, but today she felt particularly closed to the world. She didn’t feel sufficient energy to interact with anyone, and especially not to struggle with this foreign language. Today she just wanted to be invisible. So she had chosen a brown skirt and a grey sweater that would allow her to fade into a crowd. And she sat in a forward-facing seat with her bag placed on the forward-facing seat beside her so that her cluster of seats would be uninviting to a chatty stranger. She careened her neck around so that she could still watch the scenery as it disappeared behind her, which had the added advantage of allowing her to avoid eye-contact with any of the other passengers.

About forty minutes after she boarded the train, a couple boarded her car and sat a few seats away from her. They were speaking in loud voices, which made it sound like they were arguing. Nearly every conversation in Italian sounded like an argument to this quiet girl. She didn’t turn her head from the window, though it was an effort to keep from looking. Some of the other passengers were glancing up from their newspapers or poking their heads out into the aisle. She smiled slightly as she realized that the couple’s loud voices allowed her to fade to almost complete invisibility.

The train pulled out of the station and the scenery quickened its pace past the window. The brown-shoed girl kept her neck turned tightly and watched the countryside recede into the past. The couple continued to speak loudly, but the girl had nearly managed tuned them out. Just then the woman’s passionate voice broke into a sob and she uttered words common enough that the girl could understand them: “Ma ti amo…” But I love you.

The girl felt a pang of empathy for this crying woman: her pride at her feet, her heart on display for strangers on a train. Clearly she was suffering. The girl regretted feeling grateful for the couple’s argument. She thought for a moment about the way the woman pleaded her words. But I love you. It had been a while since she told anyone that she loved them, and she could hardly imagine saying it in such a desperate way. She spent a few minutes thinking about the words, what they should mean and what they often actually mean, now and at various other moments when a person might say them. She finally abandoned her contorted window-viewing position and pulled a green journal from the bag at her side. She found a blank page and began to make a list of the meanings of I love you that she had come up with so far.

I want to own you
I want you to be happy
You are special
You make me feel special
I can talk to you
You make me feel good
I want to have sex with you
I like to open myself with you
Stay with me forever
I am comfortable with you
I am accustomed to you
You are adorable
I want you to love me
Tell me you love me too
I am addicted to you
With you I forget my problems
I enjoy you
I respect you
Give me your attention
I think of you when I hear sweet songs on the radio
You are important to me
You are like family to me
I feel completed by you
I think you are wonderful

She turned the page to continue her list, and a folded letter slid out from between the pages and tumbled into her lap. It was from her closest friend; she had received it several months back. She opened it now to reread it.

…Even though you are so far away I can feel you with me, and me with you. The other day I was working in the garden with William and we found a patch of forget-me-nots growing there among the weeds. Neither one of us said anything – we just smiled at each other. I love you more than I’ve ever known how I could love a friend. I know I am going to be yours forever as you will be mine forever…

She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she read, so she folded the letter back into the journal. She knew she could not remain invisible if she were to cry publicly; the arguing couple had demonstrated this a moment ago. Even silent crying – the type she felt building up inside of her as she thought of her friend so far away – draws attention.

The arguing couple had since lowered their voices and were leaning their heads together as they continued speaking. Now the train was approaching a station and they began to get up from their seats and walk toward the doors. They walked very close together and slowly, and his arm cradled her back tenderly. When the train stopped and they stepped onto the platform they did not rush into the chaos of the train station; instead they stood still just outside the train, holding one another silently.

The girl with brown eyes shining with emotion went back to looking out the window. The train whistled and pulled away, and the embracing couple grew smaller and fainter. She suddenly realized she was uncomfortable twisting her neck around like that, so she switched to the backward-facing seat and from there watched the receeding couple until they disappeared compltely.