“Sometimes I don’t know what to say.” Jack Carpenter sat alone on the third car of a MARTA train cruising through the blackness of the tunnels under Atlanta. He was a thin kid who looked younger than he actually was. Blonde haired, blue eyes and moderately attractive, Jack appeared to be the ordinary on the outside but that was only a convienient front.
“Well, we all have times when we can not think of enough thought to sustain a conversation.”
“But it is different for me. I mean, its not just that I don’t know what to say. Its that I don’t know how to act, how to move, what to do at all. I just start to freeze up and I become recessed into my own thoughts. The cycle keeps propogating and I am stuck on my own thoughts and feelings. My eyes start to water as if I am going to cry at any moment and I can not make eye contact with anyone. I can only look to the side or to where no one is.”
“Well, what causes this to happen?” Ahead of the train light appeared as it neared a station. A voice came over the intercom: “Next stop Lindbergh Center, stop here for MARTA headquarters, next stop Lidbergh Center.” Jack noticed the random works of art placed on the walls of the platform as the train slowed to a stop. The art probably had no significance, just places to be astetically pleasing.
“It only happens when I start to feel unwanted, or when it seems like something I had believed is not true.” Jack swayed to his right as the train once again regained motion in the direction opposite of his movement.
“What do you mean about something you had believed not being true,” she wondered. The sounds of the tracks grew louder momentarily as the door between cars opened. A uniformed Marta police officer strolled into the car. “Well what do you mean?” She demanded.
Jack mumbled back to her trying to make apparent his dissatisfaction with being intruded on, “Wait.”
“What? I can not hear you, your mumbling.” Her voice carried loud enough to fill up the entire car.
“Wait!” Jack’s voice matched hers.”
“Excuse me sir, do you need something?” The bald, dark skinned officer portrayed a face combining surprise and sincerity to help. He had a kindly air of him that could make anyone comfortable immediately.
“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Then who were you talking to sir?”
“I was just…” Jack searched for something to make it seem like everything was alright. “…trying to get the voice right for a play I am in.”
“Oh is that right?” His face showed that he had something to say about the matter. “I used to do a little acting myself, back in high school, in Decatur. What play are you working on?”
Jack knew he was caught. He had to lie, it was the only way. “I am doing..” He paused and stared out the window into the blackness of the tunnel. “..The Tempest. Yeah thats it.”
“The Tempest, really? That is one of my favorite plays. What character are you playing? Jack started to get annoyed at the pitfall he was about to stumble into. He could not remember much about the play but the general plot.
“Oh, im just one of the sailors on the ship before it crashes. Nothing big. I am trying to get the inflection down.”
“Ahh, I see. Well you have a good night sir.” Jack watched as the kindly man walked to the other car door. When the sound of the track was gone, she spoke out. “You did not freeze up when talking that guy. I guess you did not feel unwanted. So what is this ‘thing’ that you need to believe is true?”
“Don’t do that again, you made me look like an idiot.”
“What? You did fine. That was a genuine conversation, at least on his part. The guy seemed interested in what you had to say. Those people are the ones that make the world a better place. Dammit Jack, what is this thing?” Her voice showed her impatience. She needed to know.
“Well I am sometimes like that guy, because I do care about what people tell me. When I do not hear what someone says, I ask them to repeated it, but that annoys some. I get these notions that somebody has a certain opinion that would be positive toward me, I panic when I get even a hint that it is not true.”
“You keep being so general, can you not commit to specifics? And about that guy, he is not genuine sometimes. He is genuine always. I bet he keeps his manner all the time.”
Jack listened to the drone of the train and stared the brown plastic of the seat across the aisle. “I don’t want to tell you specifics. There are some things that I like being internal.” He felt a whoosh of air and her voice came from his other side. “Well, I think I know what it is. I can see it in your eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, how they are a window to so much. People do not like to make eye contact anymore, too personal for some. Me, I stare into everyone’s eyes, but then again they never know it.”
The train once again slowed and came to a stop. Arts Center. The doors came open to an abandoned platform. The only thing that existed there was air and the lights that illuminated the space filled by the air. Jack liked the silence of when the train came to a stop. To him it was like a lull in a gentle storm. The motion of the train was a gentle summers rain. The stops were the times when the rain let up momentarily, playfully giving hope that the sun would soon becoming. Jack liked the sun also. As the train started back to motion he imagined those times when he stood in total silence except for a slight wind. Those were the times when the sun would warm your body and the wind would make it bearable. These were all times when Jack had peace. Uninterrupted beauty.
Jack thought about how beautiful things were. He remembered the beauty of the images placed on the front of soda vending machines. The perspiration on those cans or bottles always seemed so natural. It was if God himself had arranged those beads of moisture. Jack smiled at this thought, it was silly but made sense to him.
The train once again arrived at a station. The stops were getting more frequent now, they were deeper in the real part of the city. “It is almost 3 AM.”
“Eternal,” Jack sang. “3 AM is a transistion time. Before then it feels like it is night time, after that it feels like morning. Have you ever noticed how the night seems to move at a different pace?”
“You mean you think it runs slower, or do you mean faster. I guess its just a perception issue.”
“No, no it feels different, like time is moving at its own pace then. It seems time has an easier life when so many people are asleep. The air feels so easy going and carefree.” The train once again came to a stop. “Here we go, North Avenue, just where we want to be.” Jack got up and left the train. The whole time he felt a gust of air against the back of his neck. He rode the two sets of escalators to the street. The six lane city streets looked naked. The light changed, but there was no one but Jack to see this. “So many people, yet so peaceful. Where should we go.”
“Where ever you want. I have nothing I need to be doing. Well, it is not really possible for me to do anything.” She giggled at her own situation. A situation she seemed to enjoy.
“Lets go to the park.”
“The one with the fountains?”
“Yes that one.” A wave of air ran across Jack’s back. It felt warm and electric. The air was still, the leaves on the trees did not move when Jack’s private wind came.
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