"Where to Madam?"
The man's voice coming from behind the ticket office grille sounds distant, unreal. I'm distracted. I have just caught a glimpse of Michael hurrying towards
Platform 5. It was him. I am sure. I recognise his jaunty walk, the way the arms were swinging. No one walks like that except him. The train is already in the
station. I'm going to lose him.
"Excuse me Madam."
The voice again. Ignore it. You mustn't take your eyes off Michael, you'll lose him.
I run towards the train. I hear myself shouting his name,
"Michael. Michael."
He has gone. I run up and down the platform, looking in at the windows of the train. I'm aware that people are staring at me. I don't care. I must find Michael. I
have to know what happened. I have to know why he left.
The Guard waits with his flag raised, all the passengers have boarded.
"Hurry along please." He shouts.
I jump aboard. The train begins to move away. I have no idea where it's going. I don't care. I know Michael is on this train, I'm so close to finding the answer.
Nothing else matters. I quickly scan the faces. Pleasant, curious, worried faces - I see them all so clearly but none of them are Michael. I go through to the next
carriage, and the next, and the one after that until there are no more carriages left. Exhausted I slump into an empty seat by the window. My legs are shaking.
The idle chatter of the other passengers is irritating to me; it sounds so close and yet so distant. There's an atmosphere of unreality that gives an ethereal,
dreamlike quality to everything that surrounds me. I need to collect my thoughts. I am sure there was no other train at the station. Michael must be on this one.
"Ticket please Madam." A man is leaning over towards me, uniformed, kind face. For a moment I think it's Michael. I stare into his eyes. No, not Michael. My
voice shakes,
"Didn't have time."
He smiles and tells me not to worry. He wants to know where I'm going. I say I don't know. He raises his eyebrows,
"London?" he asks in a sympathetic tone that sounds patronising.
I nod my head as I fumble in my bag for my purse. I don't even know if I have enough money on me. I hand him a note, he gives me change with my ticket.
At last he goes away. I stare vacantly out of the window, vaguely aware of blurred shapes flashing by. I can't focus my thoughts. What was it I needed to ask
Michael? I know I must ask him why he left, but there's something else, something that keeps evading me every time I get close to it. Something really important.
I jolt myself back. These feelings are so familiar now. I don't seem to be in control of my own thoughts and it frightens me.
I begin to count on my fingers the number of months that have passed since Michael left. It helps to focus my thoughts, stops me losing control. Was it really
only eight months ago? It seems like a lifetime. How can a life that was passing so quickly suddenly slow down so that every minute seems like an hour? That's
what it's been like since Michael left.
I find myself on my feet again. I begin to walk slowly down the central aisle of the train, my hands resting on the back of each seat, turning my head this way and
that. Looking for Michael. I'm more composed now. I search as slowly as time is passing. I know he's on this train.
I stop in my tracks as I enter the third carriage. He's here. I can feel him, sense his presence. My eyes dart round, all my senses alert. I see the back of his
head, black hair tussled as usual. I walk towards him, all I can hear is the thumping of my heart. I gently lay my hand on his shoulder,
"Michael." I whisper softly.
His head swings round, his eyes piercing mine for just a moment. I see panic in those eyes I love so much, he knows he's cornered. I reassure him.
"It's alright Michael, I just want you to tell me why you left me."
He will not look at me now, his eyes are furtively seeking to escape me, but he can't escape. I have him. I won't let him go until I know the truth.
"Why are you asking?" he snaps. His voice is angry, like he hates me. "You must know why I left."
I start to cry, I can't help myself.
"I don't know why." My voice sounds desperate. Usually powerful, now weak.
"Leave it." He sounds more confident now. He sees my weakness and is not frightened anymore.
"For God's sake just leave it. And leave me alone"
I feel panic welling up inside me.
"Tell me, you've got to tell me." I'm pleading now, "We can work this out Michael. If it's something I did we can talk about it."
He stands up and pushes me roughly out of the way,
"Just leave me alone." He's shouting now, he's running down the aisle, I'm losing him. Everyone stares, everyone's watching. This can't be happening, this
wasn't how it was supposed to be. In a last desperate attempt I scream at him through my sobs as he hurries away from me,
"Tell me, Michael. Tell me."
Suddenly, he stops. Someone is blocking his way, they won't let him pass. Slowly Michael turns round to face me. His eyes look haunted, his face is ashen.
"It was me," he yells, "You thought it was Dad set fire to the house in one of his drunken stupors. It wasn't Dad, it was me. I did it. I hated him, I wanted him
dead." He was crying now. I hadn't seen Michael cry in over fifteen years,
"I didn't know our Suzy was upstairs Mum." The wretchedness in his voice was tearing the heart out of me and I watched in helplessness as he fell to his knees
sobbing.
Slowly my eyes become fixed on the shadowy figure behind him, the figure that had made Michael stop running. It is the figure of a man that I used to know. He
seems solid one moment, transparent the next. Where his chest should be, I see the seats beyond. My eyes come to rest on his face. He smiles at me as he
starts to fade away. It is Michael's father I see before me, smiling the smile that always said he was sorry, the smile that always promised things would be
different, the smile that had always lied.
Copyright JCHarthan (1997)
The man's voice coming from behind the ticket office grille sounds distant, unreal. I'm distracted. I have just caught a glimpse of Michael hurrying towards
Platform 5. It was him. I am sure. I recognise his jaunty walk, the way the arms were swinging. No one walks like that except him. The train is already in the
station. I'm going to lose him.
"Excuse me Madam."
The voice again. Ignore it. You mustn't take your eyes off Michael, you'll lose him.
I run towards the train. I hear myself shouting his name,
"Michael. Michael."
He has gone. I run up and down the platform, looking in at the windows of the train. I'm aware that people are staring at me. I don't care. I must find Michael. I
have to know what happened. I have to know why he left.
The Guard waits with his flag raised, all the passengers have boarded.
"Hurry along please." He shouts.
I jump aboard. The train begins to move away. I have no idea where it's going. I don't care. I know Michael is on this train, I'm so close to finding the answer.
Nothing else matters. I quickly scan the faces. Pleasant, curious, worried faces - I see them all so clearly but none of them are Michael. I go through to the next
carriage, and the next, and the one after that until there are no more carriages left. Exhausted I slump into an empty seat by the window. My legs are shaking.
The idle chatter of the other passengers is irritating to me; it sounds so close and yet so distant. There's an atmosphere of unreality that gives an ethereal,
dreamlike quality to everything that surrounds me. I need to collect my thoughts. I am sure there was no other train at the station. Michael must be on this one.
"Ticket please Madam." A man is leaning over towards me, uniformed, kind face. For a moment I think it's Michael. I stare into his eyes. No, not Michael. My
voice shakes,
"Didn't have time."
He smiles and tells me not to worry. He wants to know where I'm going. I say I don't know. He raises his eyebrows,
"London?" he asks in a sympathetic tone that sounds patronising.
I nod my head as I fumble in my bag for my purse. I don't even know if I have enough money on me. I hand him a note, he gives me change with my ticket.
At last he goes away. I stare vacantly out of the window, vaguely aware of blurred shapes flashing by. I can't focus my thoughts. What was it I needed to ask
Michael? I know I must ask him why he left, but there's something else, something that keeps evading me every time I get close to it. Something really important.
I jolt myself back. These feelings are so familiar now. I don't seem to be in control of my own thoughts and it frightens me.
I begin to count on my fingers the number of months that have passed since Michael left. It helps to focus my thoughts, stops me losing control. Was it really
only eight months ago? It seems like a lifetime. How can a life that was passing so quickly suddenly slow down so that every minute seems like an hour? That's
what it's been like since Michael left.
I find myself on my feet again. I begin to walk slowly down the central aisle of the train, my hands resting on the back of each seat, turning my head this way and
that. Looking for Michael. I'm more composed now. I search as slowly as time is passing. I know he's on this train.
I stop in my tracks as I enter the third carriage. He's here. I can feel him, sense his presence. My eyes dart round, all my senses alert. I see the back of his
head, black hair tussled as usual. I walk towards him, all I can hear is the thumping of my heart. I gently lay my hand on his shoulder,
"Michael." I whisper softly.
His head swings round, his eyes piercing mine for just a moment. I see panic in those eyes I love so much, he knows he's cornered. I reassure him.
"It's alright Michael, I just want you to tell me why you left me."
He will not look at me now, his eyes are furtively seeking to escape me, but he can't escape. I have him. I won't let him go until I know the truth.
"Why are you asking?" he snaps. His voice is angry, like he hates me. "You must know why I left."
I start to cry, I can't help myself.
"I don't know why." My voice sounds desperate. Usually powerful, now weak.
"Leave it." He sounds more confident now. He sees my weakness and is not frightened anymore.
"For God's sake just leave it. And leave me alone"
I feel panic welling up inside me.
"Tell me, you've got to tell me." I'm pleading now, "We can work this out Michael. If it's something I did we can talk about it."
He stands up and pushes me roughly out of the way,
"Just leave me alone." He's shouting now, he's running down the aisle, I'm losing him. Everyone stares, everyone's watching. This can't be happening, this
wasn't how it was supposed to be. In a last desperate attempt I scream at him through my sobs as he hurries away from me,
"Tell me, Michael. Tell me."
Suddenly, he stops. Someone is blocking his way, they won't let him pass. Slowly Michael turns round to face me. His eyes look haunted, his face is ashen.
"It was me," he yells, "You thought it was Dad set fire to the house in one of his drunken stupors. It wasn't Dad, it was me. I did it. I hated him, I wanted him
dead." He was crying now. I hadn't seen Michael cry in over fifteen years,
"I didn't know our Suzy was upstairs Mum." The wretchedness in his voice was tearing the heart out of me and I watched in helplessness as he fell to his knees
sobbing.
Slowly my eyes become fixed on the shadowy figure behind him, the figure that had made Michael stop running. It is the figure of a man that I used to know. He
seems solid one moment, transparent the next. Where his chest should be, I see the seats beyond. My eyes come to rest on his face. He smiles at me as he
starts to fade away. It is Michael's father I see before me, smiling the smile that always said he was sorry, the smile that always promised things would be
different, the smile that had always lied.
Copyright JCHarthan (1997)
Michael
| A short story for radio broadcast Copyright J.C. Harthan, PhD (Dec 1997) |
| (This story is based on a dream fragment and written using Dream re-entry technique) |