small, hinged shelf was propped open under the window supporting Rachel’s guidebook and an empty bottle of water. Outside the early morning sun cast long shadows on the tracks and outbuildings of what had been known for a century as Victoria Terminus but was now the Chatarapati Shivaji Station in a city that Indians called Mumbai but that the rest of the world would always refer to as Bombay.
“And I slept so good,” Rachel said, rummaging through her backpack as she spoke. “The train was rocking nice and easy and when we went through a town I could hear the train’s horn in my dreams. It made it easy to sleep.” She pulled out a toothbrush case and a tube of toothpaste. “That and those pain pills the doctor gave you.” She pushed her hair away from her face and looked into his eyes. “This is why I came to India, for train rides like this. And it wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you. Thanks.”
Jason shrugged, not sure how to answer since all he had done was bleed. The stationmaster had insisted they get the private accommodations, his way of apologizing for “a most unusual and unfortunate incident that in no way should influence your opinion of this fine railway system or of the people of India on a whole.” His arm ached under the bandage, and blood seeped through the gauze in several spots. He flexed his left hand—it was stiff but otherwise seemed normal, the site of the tetanus shot causing the most pain, and his chin hurt where the doctor had pulled through a few quick stitches, no extra charge.
But it wasn’t the pain that had kept him awake. Despite a double dose of the pills that had knocked Rachel out, Jason had spent the night staring at the patches of light that raced along the blue-gray ceiling of the cabin.
He could see the man’s face, a look somewhere between terror and embarrassment as he made his awkward stumble into the path of the train. It had slowed to pass through the station but it had struck with enough force to rip the man’s head off his shoulders, knocking it down the track like an errant soccer ball before it rolled under the steel wheels. Three times that night the smell of the man’s cheap cologne wafted into his memory and three times that night he hurried down the passageway to the communal restroom, dry heaving into the piss-covered black hole that opened to the tracks.
And the man had known his name.
They had asked him directly did he say anything to you and he had said no, nothing he could understand. He didn’t know why he had lied but at the time it felt right, and as he lay awake in the cabin, Rachel’s deep, measured breathing in sync with the clatter of the tracks, the lie still felt right.
Tell them what they want to hear. It makes them happy and it doesn’t cost you a thing.
Alone in the darkness he thought about what he carried in his backpack. He knew it was the reason why he needed to get to Bangalore, the reason why he kept going when all he wanted to do was stop. An economy-class, return ticket to the States. It was the only reason he needed.
“I’m going to freshen up as they say,” Rachel said, tugging her Blue Jays cap tight on her head. “We’ll be in the station soon, so pack up.” She opened the door, apologizing to the porter who slid past their cabin with a tray of hot tea. “Oh yeah,” she said over her shoulder. “I took that red blanket out of your pack last night when you went to the bathroom. That air conditioning got frickin’ cold. I think it fell under my bed. Don’t forget it.”
***
“Look over there,” Rachel said, pointing across his body towards the crowd at the gate. “Isn’t that your name?”
Standing under the ornate Victorian clock and dressed in a black suit and tie, a copper-colored man held a computer printed sign on legal-sized paper that read MR. JASON TALLEY .
“Go ask him what he wants,” Rachel said, giving Jason’s good arm a tug. Jason didn’t move.
“What are you, nuts? The
“And I slept so good,” Rachel said, rummaging through her backpack as she spoke. “The train was rocking nice and easy and when we went through a town I could hear the train’s horn in my dreams. It made it easy to sleep.” She pulled out a toothbrush case and a tube of toothpaste. “That and those pain pills the doctor gave you.” She pushed her hair away from her face and looked into his eyes. “This is why I came to India, for train rides like this. And it wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you. Thanks.”
Jason shrugged, not sure how to answer since all he had done was bleed. The stationmaster had insisted they get the private accommodations, his way of apologizing for “a most unusual and unfortunate incident that in no way should influence your opinion of this fine railway system or of the people of India on a whole.” His arm ached under the bandage, and blood seeped through the gauze in several spots. He flexed his left hand—it was stiff but otherwise seemed normal, the site of the tetanus shot causing the most pain, and his chin hurt where the doctor had pulled through a few quick stitches, no extra charge.
But it wasn’t the pain that had kept him awake. Despite a double dose of the pills that had knocked Rachel out, Jason had spent the night staring at the patches of light that raced along the blue-gray ceiling of the cabin.
He could see the man’s face, a look somewhere between terror and embarrassment as he made his awkward stumble into the path of the train. It had slowed to pass through the station but it had struck with enough force to rip the man’s head off his shoulders, knocking it down the track like an errant soccer ball before it rolled under the steel wheels. Three times that night the smell of the man’s cheap cologne wafted into his memory and three times that night he hurried down the passageway to the communal restroom, dry heaving into the piss-covered black hole that opened to the tracks.
And the man had known his name.
They had asked him directly did he say anything to you and he had said no, nothing he could understand. He didn’t know why he had lied but at the time it felt right, and as he lay awake in the cabin, Rachel’s deep, measured breathing in sync with the clatter of the tracks, the lie still felt right.
Tell them what they want to hear. It makes them happy and it doesn’t cost you a thing.
Alone in the darkness he thought about what he carried in his backpack. He knew it was the reason why he needed to get to Bangalore, the reason why he kept going when all he wanted to do was stop. An economy-class, return ticket to the States. It was the only reason he needed.
“I’m going to freshen up as they say,” Rachel said, tugging her Blue Jays cap tight on her head. “We’ll be in the station soon, so pack up.” She opened the door, apologizing to the porter who slid past their cabin with a tray of hot tea. “Oh yeah,” she said over her shoulder. “I took that red blanket out of your pack last night when you went to the bathroom. That air conditioning got frickin’ cold. I think it fell under my bed. Don’t forget it.”
***
“Look over there,” Rachel said, pointing across his body towards the crowd at the gate. “Isn’t that your name?”
Standing under the ornate Victorian clock and dressed in a black suit and tie, a copper-colored man held a computer printed sign on legal-sized paper that read MR. JASON TALLEY .
“Go ask him what he wants,” Rachel said, giving Jason’s good arm a tug. Jason didn’t move.
“What are you, nuts? The
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