The Light You Cast - 6. Chapter 6

The train passed through a landscape of tiny frozen lakes, small villages and patches of trees. As I watched the world pass by through the window, Mr. Jameson's image echoed in my thoughts. I saw him often in the reflections other passengers made against the window as they passed - a green cap, a hint of graying red hair, the turn of a ruddy face. But they must have been ghosts or remnants of my thoughts, because when I looked more closely, it was never him. I wrote about him in my journal on the first night of our journey, ink pen moving in smooth cursive across the page.

I mourn the man in spring who wakes before dawn to sit with his tea, rocking on the porch, listening as birds call out to the sunrise. If a man can take joy in the earth's waking, why should he turn sick with rage as it sleeps? Winter takes him by the shoulders, turns his back to the world. Has this quiet season of ice and snow betrayed him somehow, reminded him of life's impermanence, robbed him of some delusion that his youth would last forever?

"You know there's a light, right? Above your head." I looked up from my journal to see Michael standing in the narrow aisle with his finger hovering over the light button. It was dark outside, but the moon shone brightly through the window.

"Please don't." I set my pen down and turned around in my chair. "Are you sitting down? Just give it a minute, your eyes will adjust."

"You're weird." Michael looked over the pen and journal bathed in the dim glow of moonlight. When his eyes got stuck on my handwriting, I wondered if he could see well enough to read the lines.

"No one uses pens like that anymore," he said. "Where do you even buy something like that? The antique store?"

"You can find them in craft shops,” I said patiently.

Michael came closer and sat in the chair next to mine. "It's still weird," he said. “You know, if anyone catches you with an open bottle of ink in here, they’ll kick you off the train.”

I wiped the nib on a cloth and blew my page dry. While I was busy with that, Michael reached over me and pushed the button for the light. It was yellowish and bright, and it made my eyes hurt. I frowned at him, but he only smiled.

"How do you use it, anyway?" he asked.

"It’s not hard. You dip it into the ink, and then you write with it. Want to see?"

He nodded. I opened up my journal and pulled a few folded pieces of paper that I’d tucked in the back for writing letters. I spread one of the pieces on the lap table, then wrote a few lines, blew it dry, and handed it to him.

Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise:
and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.

"Are you trying to insult me?" he laughed.

I held out the pen with a smirk. "I would never. Want to try it?"

Michael started to reach for it, then stopped his hand. "I don’t want to mess it up. Your handwriting is so elegant. Mine is terrible." He glanced up at me. "Why do you even bother with stuff like this?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "I guess it makes my writing feel more important."

Tentatively, he took the pen and looked it over. “So is there some kind of trick to it?”

“Be gentle with it. Don’t press too hard. Try it without any ink first and see how it feels.”

He began to scratch the dry pen over the paper, approximating the angled loops of my cursive. “I can’t believe people really used these.”

“Here, dip it in. Just the tip.” I held out my jar of black ink. Carefully, he dipped the nib in and used the ink to write a cursive M. It was a little shaky-looking, and he wasn’t satisfied, so he tried again.

After several attempts, mostly unsuccessful, he handed the pen back to me. I wiped it off and started to put my things away.

“You know there are other places on the train you can go,” Michael said. “You don’t have to stay here. I met some guys playing card games and stuff, just two cars down. I was going to go hang out with them some more. Do you want to come?”

“Not particularly.”

“Please? It’ll be so much more fun if you’re there. What do you have to lose?”

Michael was a difficult person to say no to.

Moments later, I found myself approaching a table in the lounge car where two brothers sat with a deck of cards. The taller man had a trim body in contrast to the younger boy’s rolls. His hair was buzzed, making his black-rimmed eyes stand out. The younger boy had black wavy bangs that fell over glasses with thick rectangular frames. His eyes held a friendly smile. Both of them had olive skin, though the older brother’s was a shade or two paler.

“Hey guys,” Michael said as we took the seats across from them in the lounge car. “This is my friend Ethan.”

“Hello, Ethan," greeted the taller of the two. We shook hands. "I’m Zakeem. But you can call me Zak.” His voice sounded calm and pleasant. I detected a faint hint of a French accent. “This is my brother Arvi.”

“Hi,” Arvi said. “You know how to play Euchre?”

“I’ve played before,” I replied. “I should manage.”

“Okay, I’ll deal first.”

We began a game. Now and then, Zak had to stop and explain the rules to Arvi. He used a patient tone and a soft voice. It was hard not to look at him, I realized. He had a magnetic quality, and his movements seemed gentle, almost hypnotic. I tried not to look, but now and then my eye wandered over his relaxed posture, black tee shirt and jeans fitting snugly on his trim frame.

When the first round was over, Michael picked up the cards and began to shuffle.

“You never told us how you got the shiner,” said Zak, pointing to Michael’s eye.

“What, this? It was a girl,” Michael replied. He laid down an Ace of hearts and Arvi groaned.

“Wow,” Zak said, seeming impressed. “Does she lift weights?”

Michael grinned. “Nope. She’s just a normal high school girl. Seriously. She was pissed off when I told her I was leaving. Punched me right in the face. She didn’t mean to hit me so hard though, she felt really bad.”

“Sure she did.” Zak hid a smile behind his cards.

On his turn, Arvi looked down at the cards on the table and slumped. He tossed a card onto the pile. “We’re going to lose again, Zak.”

On cue, Michael set down a Jack of hearts. “Our win. That makes eight points. What do you have, two? You’re gonna owe us a drink.”

“My little Arvi’s never been so good at cards,” sighed Zak. Arvi stuck his lip out, and Zak bumped shoulders with him gently. “You’ll learn. Here, let’s pass it around.”

Zak unscrewed the cap on a pocket canteen and handed it to me. Just as I grasped it, he ran a finger along the side of my palm. A shiver ran down my back as we locked eyes. I glanced at Michael, but he was too busy joking with Arvi to notice. My eyes drew slowly back to Zac, who hadn’t looked away. I pulled the canteen back with me and studied him while I took a sip. It burned down my throat and tasted like licorice.

Neither of us said a word, but something must have been communicated, because Zak broke into a brief grin. When he threw an arm over Arvi’s shoulder and looked away, I sagged with relief. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d grown. I swallowed another quick sip and passed the canteen.

Zak squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t look so sad now, Arvi. It’s just a game. Michael, it’s your turn to deal. Go ahead, we’re eager to beat you.”

Michael played the next few rounds in a concentrated effort to win. The boys passed the canteen around, hands passed over cards, minutes passed away.

At some point, Michael and Arvi got up to find something to eat for us, leaving me behind with Zak.

I felt acutely aware of myself with Michael gone. I couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with my hands, so I picked up the deck and shuffled. The silence was just about to grow awkward when Zak spoke up.

“What do you do, Ethan?” he asked.

It took me a moment to answer, but he just watched me patiently. “Repairs, odd jobs,” I said. “Nothing too exciting.”

“Did you go to trade school?”

“No. Dropped out in grade 11.”

“How come? Didn’t like it?”

“Wasn’t for me,” I replied evasively. “What do you do?”

“Environmental Science at U of T,” he said, then grinned. “I’m planning to save the world, or die trying.”

“Good luck,” I said. “It needs a lot of saving.”

He tilted his head and looked me over. His attention made me uncomfortable. I tried looking out the window instead of at him, but there wasn’t much to see out there. Only flat expanses of snow spreading out under a dark sky.

“Maybe I’ve had a few too many sips off this flask,” Zak said. “But I think you’re very attractive.”

I let out an incredulous sound and couldn’t help looking back at him then. Heat flared up my neck. No one had ever said something like this to me before.

“It’s cool,” he said after a long moment passed with no reply. “You don’t have to say anything.”

I shuffled the cards again. This guy was bold. Part of me felt an urge to make an excuse, find a restroom, and wait until Michael returned to ease the pressure. Another part of me enjoyed the attention too much to let it go.

“You should be more careful,” I said finally. “I know guys who would knock your teeth out for saying things like that.”

“I have no doubt that you could if you wanted to.” He glanced at my arms. “But no, I’m not getting those vibes from you. If I had, I wouldn’t have said anything. Here, let me prove it. Put your hands on the table.”

My mind scattered a little and I wondered what to do. I thought about Jonathan first, and wished it was him sitting across from me. But in Zak’s presence it was hard to think about anyone else for long.

I could feel my heartbeat rushing behind my ears, my whole body taut and alert as I lifted my hands and put them palms-up in the center of the table.

Zak smiled. He had an intensity to his eyes, but he was gentle and deliberate in his mannerisms. He placed his palms lightly over mine.

It tickled at first, but then another feeling, a far more intimate one, began to rise. My breath quickened and I was horrified to realize my hands had begun to sweat.

“Why are we doing this, exactly?” I asked uncomfortably.

“I don’t know,” he said, locking his eyes on mine. “But it’s a lot better than small talk, isn’t it?”

At the sound of voices, I pulled my hands back into my lap and glanced up. Michael and Arvi walked down the hall balancing four sandwiches, chips, and drinks between them. They piled everything on the table and sat down.

Michael elbowed me in the side and gave me a questioning glance. I shrugged, embarrassed, and dug into my sandwich, grateful for the distraction.

*****

Michael held it in all night, but the question finally came out the morning after our card game.

“Why were you holding hands with Zakeem?” Michael asked.

I hadn’t slept much last night, tossing and turning with thoughts of the Jamesons, Jonathan and Zak, along with a million other worries rolling around in my mind. My eyes felt heavy and scratchy.

“Because he asked me to,” I replied.

“You know he’s gay, right?”

“So?” I said, too tired for this line of questioning.

“Are you gay, too?”

“So what if I am?” I asked defensively.

“What? Are you serious? I had no idea!”

“Calm down,” I replied with a sigh.

“My friend Andy had the biggest crush on you,” Michael groaned. “I could have given him hope.”

“I’m not going to date your high school friends, Michael.”

“High school?” he snorted. “He’s twenty-three.”

I looked at him. “You really do make friends with everyone, don’t you?”

“Sure. It’s easy. You just have to talk to people.”

“Helps when you have things to say,” I muttered.

Michael gave me a pensive look. “I think you have plenty of things to say. But for some reason you’re just not saying them. You’re too quiet.”

“Maybe I am,” I said. “But I’m not like you. I don’t enjoy people’s company.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Says the guy holding hands with someone he just met.”

“I blame the alcohol,” I mumbled, my ears heating. “It’s definitely not going to happen again.”

Michael clicked his tongue and gave me a long-suffering look. “Why not? Zak’s cool. You could do worse.”

“No. Drop it, Michael. Go make some more friends and leave me alone for a while.”

“You’re boring,” he complained.

“Don’t care.”

With a huff, he pushed himself up out of the seat and left down the center aisle.

*****

I wanted to see Jonathan badly. The urge felt strong and steady, its pulses growing more intense as we approached Winnipeg through the endless prairie. The city looked huge to me, buildings shooting up into the sky. Toronto was far larger than this, and I couldn’t even imagine how it would feel to finally end the monotony of this train ride, only to step out into the middle of a bustling metropolis.

On the second evening of the ride, my legs began to feel twitchy and restless. I’d been hoping to avoid running into Zak, but sitting for so long was beginning to make me feel stir crazy. Michael rarely sat down at all. I decided to take a note from him and wander aimlessly through the train cars, Zak be damned.

A few minutes later, I found Michael sprawled across a seat in the lounge car, holding a cell phone up to his ear. The sight made me stop in my tracks, ears perking up.

“I know, mom. I know. I’m sorry for making you worry. But I’m fine, I swear. Our train should be in Toronto by Wednesday. And don’t worry about school, I won’t drop out. I’ll get in touch with your cousin when we get there. I could use their address for the enrollment. There’s this performing arts school I really want to check out.”

I sat down next to him and gave him a look that made him stammer into the phone. Why was he telling her where we were going? I’d explicitly warned him not to!

“I’ve gotta go, Mom. Love you. Bye.”

Michael set the phone down next to him and looked at me, face draining of color. The black eye was more of a greenish color now, and the swelling had receded.

“Where did you get the phone?” I asked through my teeth.

“I borrowed it from Zak.”

“So you could sneak back here and do the only thing I asked you not to do. Why did you tell her we’re going to Toronto?”

“She was worried! I’ve never heard her like that before. She was crying, and she put Leah on the phone, and Leah was crying too. What was I supposed to do? But she promised not to tell him, I swear she did. I made her promise before I would tell her anything.”

“And what do her promises mean, exactly?”

Michael flinched. Good. He should know better than to be so careless.

“This is bad, Michael," I warned. "He could get an airplane today if he wanted to. For all we know, he’ll be waiting for us at the station in Toronto.”

“Ethan, my mom has to know where I am. I don’t want her calling the police, okay? And even if she breaks her promise and tells my dad, even if he is waiting at the station -- what’s he going to do? He’s too pathetic to pull off anything but a couple of sloppy punches. You could take him in a heartbeat. In fact, you already did. He’s not gonna want another taste of that, not in a million years.”

“No, Michael. You don’t understand. You don’t get it at all.”

“What’s not to get?”

“Men like your father. When they feel threatened and cornered. When think they’re about to lose everything, they--”

“How would you even know?” Michael shouted. “You’re acting crazy!”

“Ethan? Michael?” My eyes shot up to meet Zak’s face. He was the last person I wanted to see right now. He approached us with concern weighing down his dark brow. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“I need some air,” I said. I felt like I was choking. “Is there anywhere a person can get some air on this damned train?”

I shouldered past Zak and rushed toward the door at the end of the car. He called after me, but I ignored him, pushing through car after car until I reached the end of the train. At least, it was the end as far as I could reach. An attendant stood by the last door, a car for premier guests only. Through the little window in the door, it looked bright and airy in there. I briefly considered busting through. I needed to get out of here, I needed to breathe.

My chest constricted until I could only take short tiny gasps and I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. Looking around, a few people were casting me nervous glances. I couldn’t escape them here, so I aimed myself at a bathroom instead and stumbled in. This one had a shower stall, thank god.

Throwing my clothes to the floor, I turned the shower on in the tiny plastic cubicle. Icy cold water spurted out of the shower head. I didn’t add any hot water at all. Instead, I let the freezing water drench me. I shivered and breathed in shaky gasps.

Inside my mind, I gazed across a frozen lake to see the jagged, snow-covered Rocky mountains rising high into the sky. I stepped out onto the ice, and it cracked beneath my feet. Water gathered around my ankles and the floor collapsed, plunging me into the depths of the lake. I held my breath and counted as far as I could, until my vision grew fuzzy. When I finally let myself breathe again, my lungs stretched with the relief of cold, clean oxygen.

I could bear this. I could. This life was filled with impossible moments, but they would pass.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself shivering on the shower floor. I stayed there until I couldn't stand the cold for a minute longer.

Feeling pathetic, I reached up, flipped off the water, and stood. I hadn’t brought a towel, I realized. Great. With shaky hands I wiped the beads of water from my skin as well as I could, and shook out my hair.

I dressed again. Since I hadn’t dried properly, damp spots riddled my clothes. I looked terrible, but I pushed open the door anyway and headed for my seat.

Michael was there, talking quietly with Zak. They looked at me worriedly as I approached.

“Zak. Can I borrow your phone, please?” I asked.

“Sure, Ethan.” He handed it over. “Are you alright?”

I took it without replying and left them behind. Finding a car that was relatively empty, I fumbled around with the phone until I finally figured out how to access the keypad. Then I dialed the number for the costume shop.

“Rayna’s attic. Rayna speaking. How can I help you?”

“Is Jonathan there?” I asked.

“Yes. Who’s calling?”

“Ethan,” I replied.

“Ah, so it’s you. Okay, hold on a minute.”

I paced back and forth down the empty part of the aisle while I waited.

“Ethan!” I heard his voice come in, after a staticy pause. Relief eased every muscle in my body the moment I heard his voice. I slumped down in a chair and laid my head back.

“Hey,” I said, closing my eyes.

“Are you here yet?” he asked.

“No, I’m still on the train,” I replied. “It’s going to be another two days at least.”

“Too bad you couldn’t fly. It’s so much faster and cheaper.”

“Yeah.” I lowered my voice to a near whisper. “But my fake ID won’t cut it on an airplane.”

“No, I guess it wouldn’t. How’s the trip going so far?”

“Not so good," I admitted. "Michael’s driving me crazy. No fresh air and I can’t walk around. And the delays -- the train has to stop every time a freight needs the tracks.”

“Who’s Michael?” he asked.

“I told you about him, the boy in the house above me. He was in the school play, Hamlet.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. So he's with you?”

“Yeah. He needed to get away from his family,” I explained. “I hope it’s okay with you that he’s coming along.”

“We’ll figure something out. I’m not going to turn away a kid in need.” He thought for a moment. “You have a knack for saving people from shitty situations, don’t you?”

“I guess so,” I replied miserably. “Shitty situations seem to fall in my lap.”

“I guess they do,” he agreed. “Hey, I need to give you my cell number. I’m sorry, I should have given it to you before. I have this weird thing where I can’t think straight when I’m talking to you.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Me too.”

“You have a pen?”

“I’ll remember it.”

“Okay. 978-5823. Same area code. Got it?

“978-5823,” I repeated.

“You got it. Listen, I better go. Call me any time, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Jonathan.”

“Bye, Ethan.”

I sat staring at the cell phone for a long moment, repeating the number over and over in my head so I wouldn’t forget it.

I didn’t want to face Zak or Michael, but it wouldn’t be right to hang onto the phone for too long. So I made my sorry way back to them. When I arrived, Michael was gone and Zakeem was sitting in my chair.

“He went to get something to eat,” Zak said. His expressive eyes seemed curious and concerned, but calm. “Come sit down. Talk to me for a while.”

“Tomorrow, Zak. I need some sleep. Thank you for letting me use this.” I returned his phone. When he took it, he grazed the side of my hand in a sensual motion that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. But instead of excitement, it made me feel sick to my stomach. The last thing I needed right now was a sensation overload. I withdrew my hand and waited for him to leave. Thankfully, he respected my words and left. He looked disappointed, but I didn’t care.

I felt lonely, but not for his company. The loneliness brought on a powerful urge to go through my suitcase, and I didn’t resist it. I pulled out Jonathan’s coat and held it to my face for a moment. Then I reclined my seat back and laid my head against the soft inner lining. It made a nice pillow. Remembering last night’s terrible sleep, I hoped I wouldn’t suffer the same tonight.

As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry. I fell into a deep dark sleep the moment I closed my eyes.