Above Whispers

Part 1: The Station

I fell onto the bench, expanding my lungs, greedily drawing in breath, but somehow still feeling as though I’m dying from suffocation. My hands aggressively clasped to my chest as if to restrain what felt like my heart ripping through my rib cage. I forced my eyes to shut, not wanting to focus on anything but complete darkness. My hands hopelessly dropped to my sides, clenching the bench beneath me, desperately needing to keep my balance as the world spun around me. Unconsciously, I began to burrow my fingernails into the wooden planks and dug my heels into the cracked concrete below. I tried so hard to stop the pain from reaching my eyes. To stop the tears from falling into existence. But my eyes held no barrier, and my face fell moist with regret and fear. Unexpectedly, I felt a sharp pain shoot through my finger, which grounded me for long enough to realize I’m not invisible. I became aware of concerned looks on foreign faces scattered throughout the train station. Quietly adjusting my bearings, I reluctantly relaxed my grip, finally allowing myself to feel the discomfort in my hands. At the same time, my palm collects blood caused by a broken fingernail snapping from the unnoticed pressure. The crumpled ticket from my hand, briefly forgotten, and now stained with blood, reminded me that my train should arrive within the hour. I began to scan the room for the nearest bathroom, taking note of my surroundings for what seemed like the first time since I stumbled upon this station. The grand corridors with high, elegant ceilings, teasing us with exotic paintings of faraway landscapes, portrayed right above our reach. The benches line the large, semi-empty rooms, like pews in a church on a Sunday morning. And the eerie, howling rumble that pierces the still atmosphere as the trains come and go from their mysterious destinations. There weren’t a lot of people here. It was about 11:30 at night, and I was trying to imagine the reasons for their travels. While momentarily adrift in a trance, the “last call” announcements echoed throughout the lobby, snatching me back to reality and reminding me about the pain in my hand that was absent from my mind just moments before. This is also an unwanted gift from reality. I grabbed the only bag in my possession, which was placed at my feet upon arrival. Throwing it around my shoulder, I made my way through the pews towards the boarding platform.

“Excuse me.”

A deep, raspy, yet rich and somewhat warm voice seemingly manifested itself somewhere behind me. I immediately froze with fear and lost all control of my thoughts, internally spiraling through worst-case scenarios.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

It called out again, but this time the distance was noticeably closer. I can feel the sweat start to accumulate along my hairline. I had the sudden urge to run, but my legs felt like they were bolted to the ground. My breathing felt short and shallow, no matter how much air I was forcing into my lungs.

“How did he find me so soon?” My thoughts raced.

“I was careful this time, so how? HOW!?”

Just then, the voice from behind conceived a hand and placed it on my shoulder, making the hairs on my arm practically detach themselves from my body. Once more, the voice repeats itself.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

My body tenses up as I brace myself for the worst.

“I’m sorry,” the voice continues, “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just you dropped your ticket rushing past me, and I can’t imagine you getting too far without it.” 

My mind focuses closely on the words, trying to sense any danger hidden within its cryptic tone. Scared to meet his gaze and, possibly, my demise, I stayed as motionless as a statue with my back still turned towards his presence. My lips parted as if to respond, but the words stuck in my throat, along with my chaotic mind, only produced jittery sounds that barely made it past my mouth.

He proceeds, “I’ll, ah.. I’ll.. Just.. sit your ticket here and be on my way.”

His voice sounded both concerned and confused. Through the floorboards, I felt him shift his weight from one leg to the other and caught a glance of his hand in my peripheral, as he sat my ticket on a stool just off to the side of me.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, have a good night.”

I listened to his footsteps, which seemed heavy and uneven with every step he took. I waited until the sound of his shoes settled into the background noise and was no longer distinguishable amongst the rest. I shut my eyes and took a long, slow, and steady breath. Then cautiously, I turned my head to peek over my shoulder, still unconvinced that I was no longer in any danger. But to my surprise, no one was there. Puzzled, I looked down to my side and saw my ticket, still slightly crumpled and stained with traces of blood, sitting on the stool right where he left it. I stood there baffled with the odd exchange that just took place.

“Did I really drop my ticket? And was I really in that much of a hurry that I didn’t notice walking past him?”

I tried mentally retracing my steps, recreating the moments that led up to this questionable interaction. Scolding myself for not being more careful, for not being more watchful.

Suddenly, I heard a faint whistle in the distant background, followed by a blaring horn and the rhythmic grinding of the train wheels leaving the station.

“FUCK!” I cried out! Snatching my ticket from the stool, I ran in the direction of the departing train. But it was no use, by the time I reached the tracks, the only thing I caught was the sight of the train being swallowed by the gloom of the night.

“Fuck!”

I dropped my head into my hands, trying to quickly think of a plan C. I didn’t have enough money for another train ticket. Nor did I have anywhere to go for the night. I was stranded, broke and screwed. A predicament I was becoming more and more familiar with. As everything grew silent once more, I pouted over to a nearby courtyard and sat down at a table next to a looming tree. For a moment, I just stared out into the black of the night. Allowing my eyes to hollow and my mind to take me to various places. Back when I wasn’t on the run. Back when I was once safe. The thoughts caused my eyes to swell with memories I would’ve preferred to leave in the past. It was now 11:48, and my phone was on 13%. I knew eventually I would have to return inside, but the faint breeze that rippled across my face was enough to keep me sedated. The somber space that enveloped me felt colorless and dull. Heavy and bleak, as if in mourning for what it once was. An animated scene with lively gossip that spilled into the ears of onlookers who dressed the environment with their various mundane morning activities. The laughter and disagreements that fell from the distance, and the muffled music that constantly played in the background with no known source. All adding to the vibrant display of life. But in these hours of the night, this space is only a shell of what it once was. Empty, cold, and forgotten. Which tends to attract people like me. The ones who were once zealous and danced with their spirits. Eyes colored with passion and breath woven with devotion. But then something happens. Something traumatic enough to drain you of what made you whole. And it digs at your inner peace until you only resemble a fragment of times past. I was sick of being on the run, but even more sick of what it was doing to me. With everything in my soul, I yearned for connection, for closeness. But my ability to trust anyone was stolen against my will. And now I owe a debt to loneliness that was never mine to pay. What was I to do now that all hope was lost? I didn’t have the will to keep going. To keep trying. But I knew I couldn’t stay here. Whatever I was to do, needed to be done soon. But what was left?

Once more, I began to softly cry when the sound of far-off humming, deep and intimate, seeped into the atmosphere around me. Alarmed, yet compelled, I actively searched for the source of the alluring tune, which was promptly stalked by a shadow that emerged from behind a distant pillar. I was not yet able to make it out due to the lowly dimmed lights that seemed equally afraid of the darkness. As the shadow grew closer, the humming grew more distinct. And it was headed straight for me. So, in a panic, I grabbed my bag for yet another vanishing act. But in my attempt to flee, I foolishly forgot to grab my phone, which lay unguarded on the table a couple of feet away from where I now stood. Trying to mentally calculate the distance between us, I studied the shadow that was now becoming easier to make out with each step it took. He wore a long dark trench coat that hovered just above what seemed to be old and worn Timbs. He had a duffle bag strapped across his back and wore big, bulky headphones over his hooded head. Soft, faint colors sailed across his deep chestnut-toned complexion. Making his face glow into the night, from his phone, he seemed to be currently distracted by. He was now close enough for me to hear the faint suggestion of sounds coming from his headphones. His stride was steady and appeared to mimic the rhythm of the music. But as he approached, I noticed he had a slight limp on his left side. Instantly, my eyes widened, as my mind scrambled back to the uneven steps that faded into the background from that baffling exchange earlier. As fear washed over me, I immediately sprinted towards my phone. But in doing so, I accidentally kicked an empty soda can across the concrete ground, dragging along with it an unnecessarily deafening noise as it skated across the silence of the night. Naturally, the racket required his immediate attention and compelled his eyes to shoot up in my direction. For the first time, my eyes fell upon his face, and with squinted eyes and a tilted head, we both just stared at each other as if trying to recall a lost memory. Everything around me fell still. Like time had suddenly stopped, making it unclear if we had been standing there for 5 seconds or 5 hours. There was a familiarity in his gaze that sent chills down my spine. And it was evident that my presence had a similar effect on him as well. He started to slowly take a step forward when my phone lit up and began to vibrate, awakening us both from the strange spell we had unintentionally cast on one another. I dashed for my phone, and almost instantaneously ran in the opposite direction when I heard him shout out,

“WAIT, WAIT!”

I stumbled to a staggered stop, gasping for air, and wondering why the hell I wasn’t halfway down the platform by now.

“Please, wait. Just hold up for a second.”

He lightly jogged over but slowed his pace the closer he got to me.

“I’m not try’na hurt you, I swear.”

With my back still turned to him, I slowly relaxed my shoulders and took another deep breath as I calmly turned around. He hesitated to speak at first; I assumed trying his best not to scare me away as if I were a rare mythical creature to be captured and stored.

“What’s your name?”

He finally speaks with still a good amount of distance between us. I nervously looked over my shoulder and then back over his, before responding.

“Why?” asking as if I didn’t already know the answer to my own question. There was another brief pause before he continued.

“My name is Cairo. You’re the one who dropped the ticket, right?”

I nodded bashfully in response,

“th-thank you for grabbing it for me.”

“Nah, yea. No worries.” He says as he gestures to the space between us, wanting my permission to move closer. I subtly nodded and dropped my eyes to my feet, not being able to embrace his curiosity.

“So, do you have a name?”  He asked again, but this time it was much softer than before.

“J-Journey.” My name practically falls out of my mouth. I clear my throat and continue.

“My name is Journey.

“Journey?” he repeats, “yea, that’s dope. I like that.”

He smiles and nods with approval. He took another step forward, closing more of the gap than before. He was much taller than me, which was intimidating at this distance. The moment felt surreal. I knew we’d never met before, but we somehow felt linked.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Journey.”

He holds out his hand and patiently awaits a stranger’s embrace. I looked down at the hand that was placed in front of me. The same hand that I caught a glimpse of earlier before I dared to face him. The same hand that could still potentially bring harm upon me. Or perhaps, if I were so lucky, to find protection in. I gently placed mine in his and allowed myself to become a bit more familiar with him. He looks over my shoulder, off to the distance of the departing trains.

“Are you local or just passing through?”

“Just passing through,” I replied, while holding my arms together, trying to keep myself from freezing.

“Okay, okay. He continues, “When you headin’ out? Maybe you have alil’ time for something warm and sweet.” 

He motioned to the building we were still standing right outside of. I hesitated to answer, not sure whether to reveal that I, in fact, missed my train and had nowhere to go. But he notices my withdrawal and takes another step forward.

“Look, I get you don’t know me, and I’m not try’na press you,” he says, lifting both his hands in the air as to insinuate I have nothing to be afraid of.

“It’s just that earlier.” He pauses, and I watch his eyes trail off into the distance, as if to recall our first moments.

“You just looked… scared. I don’t know your story, and I won’t pry. But it’s late, it’s cold, and you’re alone.”

He was right, it was late, and I didn’t know what the night had in store for me. I couldn’t go back to where I was or to who I was. But I was also running out of options and time.

“I mean,” he proceeds, pulling me out of my train of thought.

“You gotta wait for your train anyway, right? you might as well do it inside where it's warm with possibly decent company.”

He chuckled at himself, making me smile at his obvious logic.

“So, I take it you’re the “decent company?” I say in a playfully mocking tone, which makes him laugh and caress his chin.

“I mean, I’m aiight.”

He takes a small intermission from speaking and looks at me with longing, deep within his eyes. My mother once told me to always be mindful of people with longing eyes because longing seems to require an inability to be satisfied. I’m sure there was a lesson to be learned in that. But like all good advice, it was ignored.

Not able to hold his gaze much longer, I continued.

“Okay,” I said, feeling just as surprised as he looked.

“Word?”

I giggled, “Yea, okay, okay.”

I bent over to grab my bag while he pulled out his phone to send a quick text. He then drops his phone in his pocket and asks if I was ready. I nodded, and with the moon to our backs and the dim lights trying their best to guide our path, we walked side by side back into the building where it all started.