2
The train made every stop heading south. At the Thirtieth Street Station in Philadelphia, it sat for more than an hour without any apparent cause. When Faulk asked one of the porters what was going on, the porter said, “Got me, sir.”
“Is there something wrong with the train? Has something else happened?”
“Don’t know, sir. I think maybe they waitin’ for son’thin’ down in the District.” He was very dark and had a wide mouth that looked like a cut in his lower jaw.
“Thanks — if you hear anything, I wish you’d let me know.”
“I doubt I’ll hear anything, sir. But I sure will if I do.”
“Which way is the dining car?”
“Both ways,” the porter said. “Equidistant, too.” He smiled.
“Thanks.”
“Food ain’t much good, though, I gotta tell yeh. Sammitches mostly. Process meat.”
“Well.”
The young man shook his head, wringing his hands. “Before today, I don’t know that I would’ve felt the need to tell you that.”
“I know.”
“That boggles my mind, man. You feel how different it is now?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe something good can come of this misery.”
Faulk decided to take the opposite direction from where the Asian boy had gone, believing that an encounter would produce pressure in the other for some kind of response and be a source of further unease. He stepped out into the cool vestibule and pushed the panel that would open the door into the next car. This one smelled heavily of perfume, mingled with some kind of cleanser. A man was sleeping in the first row, legs draped over the arm of the seat next to him. Two elderly women were at the far end, talking quietly, and they studied him as he passed them. The dining car was empty. At the food counter in the little vending area a middle-aged woman sat, reading a thick paperback. Her tight-curled hair was red, and many freckles dotted the light brown skin of her cheeks. There was something puffy about her face. “Hello,” she said, putting the book down.
Faulk sat at the counter. “Hello.”
“Slow trip.”
“Do you know why the delay?”
She shrugged. “Something about D.C. They got hit there, too, you know.”
“I heard.”
“You coming from Boston?”
“I got on this one in Newark. I was in New York.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“Didn’t hear a thing. I was uptown. My aunt called me about it from Washington.” He gazed toward the small window into the next car, which looked empty. “There were so many people on the train out of New York.”
“I don’t think I ever seen it this empty on this one.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Eight years. Got the job when my husband passed. Raised four kids and never worked outside the house.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your husband.”
“Well.” She gave him a forbearing look. “Eight years ago. You notice how this kind of trouble makes you want to tell people—” She stopped and seemed to have reminded herself of something. “Well, it does me, anyway.”
“I know what you mean.” He gazed at the menu card.
“You married?” she asked.
He looked at her.
“Sorry to pry. I just feel this need today to know everybody I meet.”
“It’s fine. We’re all going through it.”
“Right. You got that one right for sure.”
“I’m divorced.”
“There’s a lot of that, I guess.”
“Fifty percent of the time, I believe.”
“Guess I read that somewhere.”
Presently she said, “They all begin in hope, though.”
“That’s true.”
“All that happiness and celebrating.”
“Right.”
“Nobody does it planning to get miserable.”
“No.” He liked her. He felt a surge of grief for her troubles, whatever they were. “Actually, I’m getting married for a second time. If she can get home from Jamaica.”
“Jamaica.”
“She was vacationing with an old friend. Now since all the planes are grounded — well, today I was stuck on one island, and she was stuck on another. She was supposed to fly home tomorrow.”
“Well, I hope you can get together and be happy.”
“Fifty percent chance.” He smiled at her.
“I wonder what gets into people,” she said. “My husband and me, we were happy as kids together right up to the end.”
“You were lucky.”
She nodded emphatically. “We were that. We felt that.”
The door of the car on the other side opened, and a man entered, carrying a small brown briefcase. He sat at the far end of the counter and placed the briefcase in front of him. He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, with a drooping, pale face and light blue eyes that had shadows under them. His hair was dark gray with white streaks, and it was disarranged, as if someone had ruffled it. He smoothed the hair down with one hand, leaning forward to look over the varieties of snack foods in the baskets on the wall behind the counter.
“Hello,” the woman said to him.
“You have fresh coffee?”
“Sure.”
The man turned his attention to Faulk. “You live in Washington?”
“No, but that’s where I’m headed.”
He seemed satisfied with this.
“You?” Faulk said.
“I live there.”
When the woman put the coffee in front of him, he took her hand. “I wonder what you think of all this.”
“Oh — well. I–I can’t — I don’t know what to think. I was just telling this gentleman I feel like I have to get to know everybody I meet.”
“Yeah.” He let go of her.
“You got a family?” she asked.
“Four grown kids. Three girls and a boy. A nice friendly wife. Like that.” He smiled. “They’re all waiting for me to get home and try to explain this day to them, you know? They’ve all gathered at the house.”
“I think the Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“Yeah. His wonders to perform, right?”
“Mysterious.”
“Okay.”
“I think maybe it’s like this,” she said. She appeared to be trying to formulate the idea as she went on, hesitating. “It’s like we all — flowers, and — and the Lord is like the gardener. Right. We all flowers in his garden. And sometimes he needs one flower, or maybe two or three, and then sometimes, you know, he needs a whole bouquet of them.”
“You believe that.”
“I hope so.”
“And you’re happy.”
She stared at him. “Yes, sir.”
“And today was just a gardening day for God.”
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“You know the suicide bombers over in Jerusalem. They believe that when they blow themselves up and a lot of innocent men, women, and children die, they themselves are going straight to paradise for it.”
She took up a rag and began to wipe the counter. She lifted his cup and wiped under it and then set the cup down with a little force.
“They believe deep in their hearts that they’re going straight to paradise where they will be greeted by virgins. Virgins. Think of it.”