{"id":20335,"date":"2024-09-07T09:10:29","date_gmt":"2024-09-07T13:10:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/?p=20335"},"modified":"2024-09-08T09:24:10","modified_gmt":"2024-09-08T13:24:10","slug":"waiting-for-the-train","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/waiting-for-the-train\/","title":{"rendered":"Waiting For the Train"},"content":{"rendered":"

Tara is auditioning for some chorus part in an atrocious opera or musical\u2014which one exactly, Nick can\u2019t remember. She\u2019s wearing black slacks and a cream-colored blouse, and ballet flats because she tells him she can never audition in heels (to this, he raises an eyebrow in sardonic fashion, makes a joke at her expense). A binder full of music sits in her lap and she\u2019s folding her hands together, a sign of her nerves. He\u2019s tempted to reach out his hand and grab her palms but instead, he picks at his cuticles while they wait. The audition room is being held in a dreary theater somewhere far away from the actual Broadway. Nick looks around at his environment and tries to remember why exactly he\u2019s there. All he can recall is that Tara had pleaded and cajoled him into coming with her to keep her company. I promise it will take absolutely no longer than thirty minutes<\/em>, she had said. He checks his watch: it\u2019s been close to an hour.<\/p>\n

They are both twenty-one and in college, albeit a few hours apart from each other, but every so often one or the other makes the trip via train to meet. This time it was Nick\u2019s turn to arrive in Manhattan for the weekend. After arriving at Penn Station, Tara had met him at the platform and then he watched as she navigated the train to the Upper West Side, fascinated by how calmly she seemed to understand the underground. They talked endlessly and by the time they arrived at her apartment it was time for dinner. Once they had finished eating, they spent the next few hours with a bottle of wine and were sitting on a green couch in Tara\u2019s small living room. It was probably the lighting or the wine or the fact that it was three in the morning, but he was thinking about kissing her more than he should have been. Then\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you come with me to an audition tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat sort of audition?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, like a job. It\u2019s one for a show.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA show? You\u2019re just telling me this now?\u201d The corners of his mouth turn up. To him, all this auditioning and singing and prancing around a stage in front of a tired audience is a prolonged version of childhood fantasy. Nick thinks of a play she once forced him to see and how the whole time, her face glowed with happiness, and she laughed at the parts people are supposed to laugh at and cried at the parts where everyone else also reached for tissues. But the whole time, he couldn\u2019t stop thinking how ridiculous the whole thing was. Of course, he won\u2019t say this to Tara. But she\u2019s already quite aware of his opinion, just indifferent to it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, and it’s last minute. I can\u2019t really help it when I have to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHm, define what the word \u2018show\u2019 entails.\u201d His hands clasp together in mock enthusiasm. \u201cJust for fun.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know exactly what it means. Don\u2019t play dumb. Will you please just come?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I was considering it but I\u2019m not sure I will if you falsely accuse me of being dumb.\u201d To make sure she knows he\u2019s joking, he gives a lopsided smile, then brushes his hand against hers.<\/p>\n

\u201cI promise it will take absolutely no longer than thirty minutes. These things always go quickly. I\u2019ll buy dinner if I\u2019m wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFamous last words.\u201d She sighs and turns, laying her head in his lap.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you just go? You know I get nervous at these things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess so,\u201d he says nonchalantly, shrugging and setting his fingers in her hair. What he really means to say is, Of course I will go. Anything you want<\/em>.<\/p>\n

They have known each other since high school and although they tell everyone they are friends, this is in fact a lie. It\u2019s more of a shared understanding the two have between one another, mostly reinforced by Nick. For one reason or another, he\u2019s impossible with love, unsure of what\u2019s real and what\u2019s not, afraid to commit to something and question its purity, its truthfulness. He\u2019s never been sure where the line between friendship and romance is, whatever that means. Once, he went out for frozen yogurt with a classmate of his and didn\u2019t even realize it was a date until days later, when a friend of a friend of the girl had texted to let him know. By the way<\/em>, the text read. Ella thinks ur really cute!! When r u gonna date?!<\/em>\u00a0His only response had been \u201cOh\u201d because he\u2019d never felt anything for her anyways and even less now that there was some sort of correct response expected of him.<\/p>\n

But even when he does feel something, it\u2019s hard to express. These complications have always applied to Tara, no matter how many years pass. \u201cTeenage feelings never last. This is just high school and teenage angst and all these weird emotions we\u2019re probably programmed to feel,\u201d he had told her once when they were seventeen and lying on his bed. Outside it was cold and raining but Tara’s face turned hot as she felt a sliver of sweat running down her back. She had sat still, calculating how she could respond. He continued to ramble on, changing the subject every so often, jumping from something he\u2019d read recently to a history class they were taking and then nervously back to the idea of love. As he prattled, she simply nodded, deciding not to say anything. Once she left, he had wondered if he was the only sensible one or if he was just broken, defective.<\/p>\n

Now, nearly four years later, Tara\u2019s never quite sure if it\u2019s loneliness or the same old feelings playing tricks on her, but some days in the moments before she falls asleep, she\u2019ll think of Nick, whether it means replaying memories, quips of conversations, or the glaring realities of their fundamental differences. When she was trying to convince herself there wasn\u2019t anything left between them, she would often think about fights they had, like the time he hung up on her or when she poked at his insecurities or when she burst into tears after he criticized her. Are you supposed to be so dependent on a friend? Even when she sees him, she wants to believe that there is nothing between them.<\/p>\n

At the audition, Nick calmly scribbles something into a book. She looks over his shoulder to see the title and it\u2019s ineffectually called Philosophy.<\/em> He is a philosophy major and to her, all this reading and studying of facts of life that can hardly be changed is an exhausting way to spend your day.<\/p>\n

\u201cWow, that\u2019s a creative title for a book. I would study philosophy too with that sort of innovation in book titles.\u201d Nick scowls at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s for class. And shouldn\u2019t you be auditioning? Twirling around on a stage or something?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOuch! Someone\u2019s in a bad\u2014\u201d but before she can say more, the monitor emerges for the room. They call out her name and in a blur she\u2019s standing, smoothing her shirt, tucking her binder under her left arm. She looks at Nick and he\u2019s struck by her sudden vulnerability, the trust in her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cBreak a leg, I guess?\u201d Then she\u2019s gone. As he waits, he thumbs at a particular sentence, over and over again. And love, in all its forms, continues to change and adapt, even despite absurdity. Is human connection, then, the source of meaning or value?\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Afterwards, they\u2019re eating lunch at some Greek place they had seen on the way to the theater. In between drinks and their food arriving, they begin ice skating around the topic of their relationship. They enjoy doing this, broaching the what-ifs and why-notes with a nerve-wracking sense of giddiness that Tara perceives as her own self-inflicted masochism.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, it\u2019s funny. When I met you, I don\u2019t think I would\u2019ve talked to you had you not initiated it,\u201d he says. The first time they met was at some club activity in high school and Tara\u2019s heard this story inside and out, but she relishes the idea that Nick feels comfortable enough to reveal himself to her, to reveal some new thought or discovery.<\/p>\n

\u201cCharming, I\u2019m glad to hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, that was poorly said but I just mean in the sense of making friends and talking to people\u2026 well, you know I\u2019m not the best at that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I know. You and your mood swings and your\u2026 aversion to socialization.\u201d He\u2019s not sure whether he loves or detests the way she reads him so easily and ponders if this is what makes them friends \u2013 this capability to form friendship through shapeshifting where she makes herself alike to him, both in virtue and by understanding the things about himself he never believed could be understood.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2026 feels like an attack. I guess I can\u2019t really deny it. I know it\u2019s true. I just, never quite feel like I say the right thing or do the right thing, when it comes to people.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIsn\u2019t that because you think feelings are just programming rather than instinct? Feelings don\u2019t last, it\u2019s just temporary?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I guess so. I think you\u2019re using what I\u2019ve said against me though. And anyhow, people tell me otherwise. You, for instance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell yes, I disagree. You know that. But I know you\u2019re more of a physicalist on those things because what\u2019s love anyways, right? It\u2019s all neurons and wires, right? Widespread and computable, love and consciousness.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know if I\u2019d adapt physicalism to that extent, although I am certainly interested in it. Sure, consciousness seems highly computable, but I feel like you might be poking fun at me here\u2026 I can\u2019t tell if I\u2019m meant to answer seriously or if you\u2019re getting at something else.\u201d It\u2019s too much to think about and it hurts his head. How is it that they go from teasing to discussions on the human mind? He imagines all of the thoughts swirling around in his brain and if only he could take a net and catch them, stow them away. If thoughts are computable, he thinks, where is the delete button or the password protected files he can\u2019t access?<\/p>\n

\u201cWell it\u2019s up to interpretation, I suppose.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just think, it\u2019s nice being friends. It\u2019s nice to not overcomplicate everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOvercomplicate?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d A patch of sunlight falls on her cheekbone.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. That\u2019s why I asked.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just think that we’re not very similar people. But we change ourselves in a way when we\u2019re together. And that makes us work. I mean, I have some friends, I guess, but it\u2019s more superficial, more surface level. We talk about the weather and class and things like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have those friends too. But that\u2019s very normal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean, you and I do those very same things, but we also have a deeper appreciation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDeeper appreciation?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike, we fight and disagree. But it feels safe to do that. Because there\u2019s something more solid beneath that. I worry if that sort of thing is sustainable beyond a friendship.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not sure I get that. Sustainable beyond friendship?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d Silence for a moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cExplain it to me again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs this about us not being together? You want me to say it, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSay what? That we could\u2019ve been together, but you couldn\u2019t do it. And apparently it\u2019s because of some fear of sustainability beyond friendship?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s more<\/em> than that. I just don\u2019t find the idea that promising. We are<\/em> together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOnly in the way that you want.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you don\u2019t want us to be friends? I\u2019m here now, in New York. To be with you!\u201d Their waiter asks if they need anything else and Tara gives him a weak smile, shaking her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s not promising?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust surrendering yourself under the promise of total fulfillment through love.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat doesn\u2019t make sense. You\u2019re not \u2018surrendering\u2019 yourself. No one is making a promise. I mean, what the hell does \u2018total fulfillment\u2019 even mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, if it\u2019s not any of those things then why is it\u2014I mean \u2018love\u2019\u2014so important?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis isn\u2019t philosophy class, there\u2019s no \u2018if-A-then-B\u2019 formula that we\u2019re talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re the one bringing up philosophy. What does \u2018being together\u2019 even mean to you? Why is this not enough? You tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n

She thinks of an idea he had told her about a year ago, something he had learned in one of his philosophy classes. It was about love transcending and binding two souls. Nick had laughed at it, wanted to prove it wrong to her. He told her it was ridiculous. How did people just say things to each other about love like it was normal? Like they weren\u2019t opening a giant gaping wound in themselves for someone else to kick apart even further? What did any of it mean anyways? What made people loveable and normal\u2014two things he never equated himself with? Back then, she had told him, \u201cYou just say that because you\u2019re afraid. Why are you so afraid?\u201d He said nothing because he knew it was true, told her he didn\u2019t want to talk about it anymore. She had rolled her eyes, stopped texting him for a few days but caved in because what else could she do? There was that wound.<\/p>\n

Now, she thinks of that moment again and wonders if there was always the underlying hope that they could transcend all of their issues. \u201cDon\u2019t you think we\u2019re running in circles? That you might be happier if you stopped doubting everything constantly. Doubting yourself. Doubting me? I\u2019m not trying to stop anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I definitely still think I\u2019m running in circles. But I\u2019m also not entirely convinced there\u2019s a reason I shouldn\u2019t be. The validity hasn\u2019t changed to me. I can\u2019t imagine it being harder or easier for me to wrestle with these things if my circumstances changed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNick, what are you saying? I don\u2019t know what that means. I don\u2019t understand. Are you happy with how things are?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean happy with life?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. With this,\u201d she waves her hand around. \u201cSeeing each other every so often, pretending like we\u2019re still the same kid versions of ourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I\u2019m not unhappy enough. I mean, I try not to think of it as pretending.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh. Unhappy enough for what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo really change things. I just think, nothing becomes resolved from jumping tracks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think we\u2019d really be jumping tracks so much as finally not running away from each other.\u201d Her eyes are stinging. Why did they bring this up again? Who started it\u2014was it her?<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy is it so hard to love?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLack of intimacy maybe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand. Love is<\/em> intimacy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut that\u2019s the thing\u2014you\u2019re not afraid of it. I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d He looks at her, really looks at her and wonders if his freedom to mock other people, to mock their very dreams and wishes, is just how he hides his deepest flaws.<\/p>\n

\u201cLove is\u2026\u201d He wonders how she is so capable of existing and feeling comfortable in her own words and emotions, so comfortable to express love. \u201cIt\u2019s\u2026 I don\u2019t even know what it means.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I know what I mean when I say I love you<\/em>. You don\u2019t have to find the truth of it in a textbook. There\u2019s no definition waiting to spell things out or guarantee a certain ending or an outcome because that\u2019s the point.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just feel uncomfortable with that. I love you<\/em>. It just makes me feel pushed. And what point anyways? What does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe point of loving someone? And you feel pushed? Because people want to tell you that they love you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. And I don\u2019t know why. I don\u2019t think I can. It\u2019s too much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d Her eyes are filled with tears, but she won\u2019t let them spill here in this small restaurant where there are so many people around them. Despite her freedom in dictating her emotions, she is still afraid to cry in front of strangers. She knows Nick would never try to comfort her and she would have to stop herself.<\/p>\n

The truth is that Nick believes he must be in love with her. He doesn\u2019t know what else he could describe the feeling as. But he doesn\u2019t know how to accept it, how to move against his own crippling fear. He had always thought he was too afraid to make the first move but now, he realizes he is paralyzed from making any move at all. Even if it was a step towards happiness.<\/p>\n

They don’t know it yet but in twenty-four hours, after Nick has ridden the train that brings him to his dorm room and Tara receives an email where her names appears on a callback sheet, they will end this friendship-more-than-a-friendship. She will call him, tell him she can\u2019t do it anymore, that it is not enough and will never be enough. There should be a line between friendship and romance, and they\u2019ve crossed the boundary between those two too many times. The border is nonexistent and it\u2019s too foggy for her to cross back and forth over and over, to live with the disappointment and balance it with hope. She will never be able to fall in love again as long as he lingers in the background, hiding in the shadows.<\/p>\n

And he will nod and say he understands, tell her not to apologize, wish he was there to hand her a tissue.\u00a0He\u2019ll say that he\u2019s sorry for being there, for being a part of her life, for being there to fall in love with. She will ask if he\u2019s sure about how things will end and he will say yes although inside him, words tumble and he wants to tell her he doesn\u2019t know how he feels but whatever it is he, he feels it deeply. Tara will hang up the phone in tears, an acute pain burrows itself into her chest, a product of the acceptance that they will probably never speak to one another again.<\/p>\n

Texts and emails will fade and slowly, so will their memories of one another. Memories of dialogue will become muddled with blurred emotion and the passage of time. Tara\u2019s cream-colored blouse will remind her of him, and every time Nick looks at his shelf to see that Philosophy<\/em> book, it will scream her name so much to him that he\u2019ll have to flip it horizontally, hide it deep within the confines of his soul<\/del> shelf. Manhattan restaurants will remind her of him every so often, until it won\u2019t anymore.<\/p>\n

But for him, he will always think about what this ending means, deciding if it\u2019s a matter of not being good enough because she was always so much better than he was. If he was happy in the first place in himself, comfortable in his own skin and his mind more like a sieve\u2014forgetting every grievance, concern, and flaw that could be found\u2014could he have captured his happiness with her?<\/p>\n

Was there ever really anything to mark the passage of time, to outline the partition that always stood between them, to mark that they<\/em> existed?<\/p>\n

After they had left the restaurant, they spent the day walking around the city, taking the train from Midtown to Williamsburg, back and forth and back and forth. Then, when it was nearly eleven and time for Nick to catch his late train, they ambled towards the station.<\/p>\n

The temperature had begun to drop so every once in a while Tara would shiver. Whenever Nick looked at her, he would catch glimpses of the girl he met years ago and the silence filling every moment was unbearable. He had wished he could stop time right then, push past the barrier and risk everything for something he doesn\u2019t even know how to express. It\u2019s too terrifying to let go of the fear.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine. Just realizing it\u2019s late.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

How did people just say things to each other about love like it was normal? Like they weren\u2019t opening a giant gaping wound in themselves for someone else to kick apart even further? What did any of it mean anyways? What made people loveable and normal\u2014two things he never equated himself with?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":20813,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[1911,3672,140,3671,2404],"class_list":["post-20335","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-breakup","tag-literary-fiction","tag-love","tag-philosophy","tag-romance","writer-maddy-kay"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20335","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20335"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20335\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20824,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20335\/revisions\/20824"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/20813"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20335"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20335"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20335"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}