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A simple choice can make all the difference in the world, or so they say. Mary knew what some of the major choices in her life had been. She chose to go to nursing school, despite being told by everyone in her life that she wouldn’t be able to handle it, but she knew that she could. When Hiram got down on one knee, she chose to say yes, although she doubted that they were ready for marriage. And when they got pregnant, she chose to buy a little yellow house with a tree in the yard, because she could just picture their little boy, Benjy, swinging from a tire that Hiram would hang from the tree. All of these are the big choices that people know will matter in their lives, so they must be carefully considered before one moves forward.

But then there are other decisions people make, not realizing at the time that moving down that path will change everything. On this particular day, the path before her was so clear, and Mary could see how the years would unspool before her — days waking in the soft cotton sheets of her bed in the little yellow house with Hiram lying beside her, and her son already stirring in the next room. He would be starting school next year, and she would walk him there every morning, pointing out pretty flowers as they walked, or a squirrel scurrying up a tree. Then she would head to the hospital, where she was working evening shifts. She might not be home every night in time to make dinner for their son when he came home from school, but Hiram would be off work by then, and it would all be fine.

She could see all of this in her mind so clearly, even though what physically lay before her was a road made of hot-rolled steel that screeched as the train approached. Mary stepped from the platform to the train with all of her carefully laid plans still spinning in her mind as she entered her favorite compartment on the train, more out of habit at this point than anything else. She needed to hurry home, since she had left her son with a neighbor. This had been her only chance to pick up Benjy’s birthday present before the party, a vintage Hot Wheels he'd wanted for his collection from a toyshop in town. She’d been so happy to find it, and the toy was now stashed in the bottom of her bag. But she’d have to hide the toy car somewhere when she got home, maybe in the closet? On the top shelf of the coat closet though, because Benjy had been getting good at opening doors, and he might look in the back of the closet while exploring.

This outing had taken longer than she planned and had been exhausting, so she didn’t feel like cooking. There wasn’t much in the fridge either, and Benjy would be hungry. She started to think about the places she might pick up dinner on the way home.

Just then, she heard something that took her out of her thoughts. A click near her shoes. Mary glanced down, seeing her tired tennis shoes, scuffed and stained from many a night at the hospital. Beside them was the Hot Wheels, a tiny metal police car. She sighed, shifting her purse onto the seat beside her — it had a hole in the side in desperate need of patching, and this wasn’t the first time an object like a pen had escaped. She bent down to retrieve the toy car, as it started to roll under the seat. Her fingers just brushed it, but it rolled a little more, evading her. She inched her fingers closer...but she would never pick up the toy car.

Mary didn’t hear the blare of the train’s horn, or feel the way the compartment shook, or hear the distressed cries of her fellow passengers as they saw the collision coming through the windows. In this way, she was saved a few seconds of terror that the rest of the people riding the train experienced, but she would not consider herself blessed as the glass shattered around her and she finally realized that once again, a choice had changed the path of her life. She wouldn’t be going home to her family in the little yellow house that day. Before her lay endless tracks now, and she would follow them whether she wanted to or not.

* five years later * 

As he boarded the train, Hiram tried to consider when he had become such a coward. Had he always been like this? He tossed his mind back to his childhood and could recall declining to ride down a hill on a sled in the snow with his brothers, envisioning breaking his neck or crashing into a tree. As a teenager with glasses and bookish ways, he would cross the street when he saw older boys coming down the street, and they’d laugh seeing him avoid them, considering him too pathetic to even chase after.

But this is a different kind of cowardice. His wife had been dead for five years, and he’d only visited her grave once. What kind of man does that? He was afraid to even look in the mirror these days. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, he had adored her, of course. But it was the pressure of that situation, standing before the stone with her name on it. What was he supposed to do? Bring her flowers? He could do that, of course, but it had to be more. He was supposed to talk to her, he knew. But the one time he’d visited, Hiram ran away, locked himself in his car, and sobbed for thirty minutes.

As he stood in the cemetery, he knew in his heart, it wasn’t her. His wife wasn’t there at her grave. How was he supposed to say anything to her when she wasn’t there? He’d be talking to air, and that felt like a lie. So, he bit his tongue on the words he wanted to share with her, and he avoided the grave for years. His son already resented him for this, he knew. Benjy had been asking if he could bring mommy flowers on her birthday and Mother’s Day, and someday Hiram knew he’d have to give in. Despite his own feelings on the grave, he couldn’t deny the boy a chance to visit his mother.

Today though, Hiram had to do something. It was the fifth anniversary of Mary’s death, and he couldn’t ignore what he was feeling any longer. He had to see her, so he went looking for her in the only place it felt like she might be. He bought a train ticket. The idea sounded stupid even as he had it, but something about the train drew him in, and he had to ride it. Even as it terrified him. This was where Mary died, but today he would not cross the street to avoid this path despite his fear. It would be worth it to be close to her again — to hear the last sounds she heard, to look out the window to see the last things she’d seen, and it would almost be like she was sitting beside him.

Hiram walked down the aisle of the train, shuffling past people putting their bags on the upper rack, and there was an air of excitement as people chatted with friends and waited for the train to depart. He avoided looking at their faces as he walked by, half convinced that everyone would look like Mary if he glanced at them. Finally, he arrived at compartment thirteen of the train, and luckily it was empty — Mary had been a contrary woman, and out of habit always did things that she knew would rub superstitious people the wrong way. She sat hats on beds, walked under ladders, and opened umbrellas indoors. Hiram never gave her behavior a second thought. Until the crash. Now the sight of compartment thirteen made his skin crawl, but he sat down because he knew in his bones that this was where she sat that last time.

Gingerly, he rubbed his hands along the fabric of the seats, taking in the feel of the textile, imagining it rubbing against his wife’s palms. If he squinted, he could see a dark stain on the back of one of the seats that looked like it had been there a long time and had been scrubbed many times. Surely that wasn’t...no, it wasn’t. Someone probably just spilled their coffee there. It was just the train ride making him paranoid.

He looked out the window, seeing the countryside roll by. They would be entering the city soon. He imagined Mary being thrilled about all the shops she would be visiting, maybe getting herself a new dress, something she’d missed since she had to work so much and only ever got to wear her uniform. He wanted to hear her voice again. Hiram closed his eyes and imagined she was there, telling him about her new dress. But the fantasy took a turn as he saw the truck coming, blowing past the red and white striped barrier and barreling towards the train. He used his body to shield Mary, and she would be okay. Because he was there, he protected her, and the glass wouldn’t cut her. It would be okay.

Knock, knock, knock.

 He opened his eyes. There she was. In his fantasy, she had been wearing her nurse’s uniform, the outfit he was most accustomed to seeing her in. Now, she was resplendent in a royal blue dress; it was a simple dress but complimented her skin beautifully. Her hair was pulled back in a bun and her eyebrows and slight smile gave her an air of dry amusement. It took him a couple seconds to remember that this was the last thing he had seen her wear the morning she died, and he wanted to kick himself for forgetting a detail that was so important. But surely, since she was wearing it now, he hadn’t entirely forgotten?

“Hi, Hi,” Mary said, dropping her hand from where she had rapped her knuckles on the seat to get his attention. “Is this seat taken?”

“I never thought I’d hear that nickname again,” he said, resisting the urge to cringe at the lameness of his statement. Just a moment ago, his imagination had conjured a pale shadow of her voice, but this was so much more. “I’m dreaming,” Hiram declared, as she sat across from him. “That must be it.”

“Must it?” she asked, her lips slanting further in that ironic smile he had almost completely forgotten. It made her cheek crease beside a freckle, and he had never gotten the chance to see that crease turn into a permanent wrinkle like he’d once teased her would happen. She’d been snatched away from him at thirty-nine, and the sight of her so young filled him with rage against the universe.

Seeing her there in so much detail — even the smell of rubbing alcohol that clung to her after working at the hospital — it was all too much. More than his simple imagination had ever been able to bring together since losing her, even in a dream. This felt different. He asked, “What’s happening? What is this?”

She shrugged. “What do you think this is?” Mary dropped her gaze to her hands coyly, which clasped on her knees. And then she looked at his hand resting on the seat with his wedding ring glinting in the sun. She said, “You still wear it.”

“Of course.” He rubbed his hand that felt like it itched under her gaze. “Are you not going to give me a straight answer?”

“I’m not in a place where I can give straight answers. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about a lot of things.” She still wouldn’t look up, and he suddenly felt a rush of guilt for speaking so harshly to her. If this was really her... Mary wasn’t an evasive person, and he knew she would answer if she could.

“Okay. Okay,” Hiram said, as he tried to collect his thoughts. “You can’t answer me, but what if I guess. You can nod if I’m on the right track?”

Mary looked up, and the smile she gave him was less sardonic this time. She nodded.

“You’re my wife.”

Nod.

“This isn’t a dream.”

Nod.

“You’re here, and we have the chance to talk.”

Nod.

“But you’re dead?”

Nod.

Hiram sighed heavily. “Am I supposed to believe you’re a ghost?”

“You can believe whatever you want to believe, Hi. I’m not going to tell you otherwise. I just think there’s better things we could be talking about right now.”

“I know, and we’ll get to that. But first I have to understand. How are you here?”

She shrugged. “I’ve always been here.”

“You mean you’ve been with me, watching over me? But I can only see you now?”

She shook her head. “I’ve always been here.”

He looked around the compartment, trying to wrap his mind around that, and the only sound for a long moment was the clang of metal as the train skated down the tracks. Down the aisle, a man was asleep with a newspaper in his lap, but they were otherwise alone. He wished that there was someone sitting across from them so he could demand — you see her? It’s not just all in my head? You see my wife? But then, he really didn’t want someone to tell him it wasn’t real.

Hiram quickly looked back to her, afraid for a split second that she would vanish when he wasn’t looking. But she was there. He noticed the stain on the back of the seat again and covered his mouth as he made a choking noise. It suddenly hit him, and he said, “I didn’t realize...when I booked this ticket, I didn’t realize this wasn’t just any train. I mean, I intended to ride the same line you rode, but this is the same train. It happened here, didn’t it? That’s what you meant by you’ve always been here.”

She nodded. “May I ask you a question too?”

“Anything,” he choked past a lump in his throat. Hiram had wanted to give his wife the world when they were married. Now, she felt beyond his reach, but if all she wanted were words, maybe he could offer those. His mind raced to anticipate her question, and suddenly he felt guilty for not thinking of it sooner. “Our son! Do you want to know how he is?”

Her face crumpled slightly. “That hadn’t been what I was going to ask. But please... Is Benjy...?”

“He’s doing fine. Just fine. He misses you. But he’s doing great in school. Best in his class. Your mother is watching him for me right now.”

The crease between her eyebrows didn’t ease at all, and he could sense that he’d upset her. They had been married long enough that a little flash of inspiration told him all that he needed to know — she missed her son desperately, and all the little words he could offer would never fill the hole in her heart.

Hiram bit his tongue about Benjy. If she wanted to know more about him, he knew she would ask. “So, what was your question? The one from before.”

Mary paused to take a breath, and her face composed a bit. Then she asked, “Why did you come here? Why are you here, Hiram?”

He blinked. “Isn’t that obvious?”

She shook her head. “You’re alive. I’ve been gone for five years. Why are you looking for me now? Is it to say goodbye? That I’d understand.”

“No! I’ve only just found you again. Why would I say goodbye now?” He reached out to touch her hands which were still folded on her knees, but his hand passed through her skin, and he felt only a chill. The hairs on the back of his neck went up, but he persisted and said, “I’m not going to say goodbye to you. Not now. And never.”

She stared sadly at him. “What are we doing here, Hi? You remember the vows we took, don’t you? Our marriage is over. We had our time together.”

“No,” Hiram insisted. “It wasn’t long enough. This isn’t fair. You’re still my wife.”

Mary’s lips quirked in a shadow of that old sardonic smile he could never forget. “Is that really how you want to spend your limited time on Earth? Married to a ghost? What kind of life is that... It hurts to think about you wasting your chance at happiness like that.”

“It’s not wasted. I couldn’t be happy with anyone else.”

“But you don’t look happy right now,” she said, her eyes dropping once more to her hands. Beside her hands, Hiram’s fingers were still extended, grasping at air, yet never able to reach her.

In a moment of honesty while staring at their hands, he admitted, “It hurts to look at you.” For a long moment, he was transfixed by the freckle on her ring finger by her wedding band, lost in the memory of pushing the ring on past that freckle. It was one of those details he would never forget about his wife, but was that all she was now? A memory he could barely interact with? He would gladly take that much; it was more than he had yesterday. When he looked up, he saw tears rolling down her face. He reached to brush them away before remembering a second too late that he couldn’t touch her, as his fingers passed through her face like icy mist. “Mary...please...”

“I...I should go. I shouldn’t be here.” She started to get up but stopped when he reached out again, as if he could touch her shoulders to press her back into the seat.

“No, Mary, please. Don’t go.”

“Why do you want me here?” she asked.

Hiram swallowed heavily and admitted, “I don’t know. But please. Stay.”

Mary settled back down and dropped her gaze again. She said, “Okay, Hi. I’ll stay as long as you want.”

They sat in silence, listening to the clack of the train over the tracks and looking at the floor, around the cabin, out the window, and anywhere but at each other. He really had meant it — it hurt to look at her. Even the floral scent of her perfume scoured his nostrils, as fierce and abrasive as rubbing alcohol.

The speaker crackled above head, announcing the next stop. It was his. Finally, he looked at his wife, and she returned his stare, obviously knowing he was about to get off. He said, “I’m taking the train back home in an hour. Will you be here?”

She shook her head sadly. “That’s a different train.”

“Will you come with me?”

She shook her head again. “I can’t.”

Hiram wanted to know if he would ever see her again, but he was afraid of the answer. So, he simply said, “I love you. I will always love you.”

* one year later*

“Mary? Mary where are you?” Hiram stumbled down the aisle of the train, looking in each cabin of the train. The other passengers were looking at him with wide eyes, shielding their children protectively, and as he approached cabin thirteen, the couple who had been sitting in it picked up their bags and shuffled to the next car on the train. Hiram glared into the empty cabin, but he sat down. He knew that if his wife was going to appear anywhere, it would be here. He took a steadying breath and rubbed his eyes harshly until they stung.

“Hi, Hi. How are you feeling? You look rough.”

As he looked up, Mary slipped into the seat across from him. He said, “I was beginning to think I dreamed you. You weren’t here before when I came. I looked for you here so many times.... I decided to take one last chance today. Because today is that day. And you’re here. Are you only here on the anniversary?”

 ”This is the only day I can meet you. On the day I died.” Her hands were clasped on her knees and the fingers flexed, like she wanted to reach for him but was holding back. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Hi. How have you been?”

“How have I been?” He snorted and got up to start pacing between the cabin and the carpeted hallway. “How do you think I’ve been, Mary? I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve spent every waking moment of the last year trying to figure out what’s going on. I’ve spent countless hours with psychic hacks, trying to reach you, but they just took my money and spouted nonsense. I tried to contact other families from the crash, to see if they’ve met their loved ones too, but they all just looked at me like I’m nuts, and then I started to look at myself the same way. I’ve researched everything I could about the train — I could tell you about the serial number on the engine if you wanted it. And my son...our son.... I haven’t seen him smile in months. I haven’t been to his school plays in months, and he’s stopped asking me to come. He doesn’t say much at all to me anymore. I’ve already lost my wife. I don’t want to lose my son, too.”

Little creases appeared at the corners of Mary’s eyes. “Oh, Hi...”

He held up a finger and stopped pacing. “Don’t say you shouldn’t have appeared to me last year. Don’t even think it. You always used to say it’s foolish to regret what already happened, we can’t change the past. And I don’t want to, all I want right now are answers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Hiram waved his hands in the air around her, as if to point to it. “Where are you right now, what would you call this? Purgatory? A haunting? Do you have unfinished business? Do you need me to do something? Not that I’m trying to get rid of you. I’m really not.”

Mary shrugged. Her lips stayed pressed tightly together.

“Does that mean you won’t tell me or can’t?”

“How would having any of that information change this situation for you?” she asked.

“Oh, come on, Mary!” He slammed his fist into the glass of the window, sending a jolt of pain down his wrist which he ignored. “I’m trying to help you here.”

“I don’t need your help,” she said very slowly as she held his gaze. “Now, sit down Hiram.” Mary waited until he obeyed before she continued, “I’m okay, Hi. I promise. I’m just beyond any help you could offer me. So please, put it out of your mind.”

“I just...want to know why you’re here.”

“I asked you the same question last year.” Mary bit her bottom lip before asking, “Why do you think you can see me? Why do you think this is happening to us?”

Hiram looked up, seeing the bag rack and ceiling above him, but imagining the clear blue sky. “I suppose some people would call this a blessing, getting to see the person you love most again after losing them. But I’m not going to say I’m lucky, I’m not! People who are blessed get to spend fifty years together. Or sixty, or more. I had only just started my life with you. We deserved to spend a lifetime together, not one day a year. This isn’t fair!”

Mary looked out the window, as the countryside speckled with haystacks went by, and she didn’t say anything.

“Aren’t you furious that this happened to you?” he asked.

She blinked. “Furious about what? It was an accident, not anyone’s fault. And even if it had been, being angry at someone won’t change what happened. I don’t want to be angry anymore.”

“What do you want?”

Mary opened her mouth slightly, but she closed it. Then she said, “That doesn’t matter. I’m not going to get what I want.”

“Is it something to do with Benjy?” he prompted. “Do you want to see him?”

She shook her head. “I’ve accepted that he’s beyond my reach now. I miss him, but he doesn’t need me anymore. He hasn’t for a long time. So, things are best the way they are.”

Hiram stared at her for a long moment, breathing deeply and imagining it was her molecules dancing in his lungs not air. Suddenly things were starting to make sense. “I can see you.” Her gaze flicked to him again and held his. “I can see you, and it’s because I need you. That’s why this is happening. And if that’s why,  then I’m okay with it. After all, I’ve always needed you. That’s why I married you.”

Mary smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m still not sure this is a good thing. I was your wife for a long time. I know when you’re happy. You don’t look happy. Hi, just because I’m here, you don’t have to come back every year. I’ll understand if you’ve moved on.”

“No! Mary, no,” he snapped. A man walked past the cabin and stared at him with wide eyes, but Hiram ignored him. “Stop talking like that. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here every year, I promise.”

“I don’t want you to promise that!” she said, raising her voice for the first time. “I don’t want to see you like this if it’s just going to hurt you. I don’t want you to waste your life thinking about me when I’m gone. I’m not going to keep coming here if it’s just going to tear you up like this. If you aren’t going to stop coming, then I will.”

“Please, please!” Hiram fell off the seat and onto his knees before her. He hovered his hands above hers, knowing he’d never touch her again. But this was enough. “Don’t leave me. Not again. Don’t go again. One day a year is enough. That’s all I need. Just keep coming back every year, Mary. That’s all I ask.”

When he looked up, he saw tears rolling down her cheeks. She said, “Okay. I’ll be your wife again, one day every year.”

* five years later *

Hiram brushed his hair behind his ears, self-conscious of the silver at his temples. He had debated touching up the gray, wanting to look good for his thirty-nine-year-old wife who never changed in appearance, but that felt like it would be a deception. If Mary were still sleeping beside him every night, standing beside him every morning in front of the bathroom mirror, and checking that his tie were straight before they went out to dinner together, then there would be no way for her to miss the gray in his hair. He didn’t want to hide it from her now, on the one day they got to share together every year.

“How about here?” his son asked, gesturing to an empty cabin on the train.

Hiram shook his head and nodded to the back of the train. “Not there. Just follow me. You’ll see.” He led the way as his son followed him, radiating sullenness. When they arrived at the thirteenth cabin, Hiram held out his hand. “Give me your bag. I’ll put it up top for you.”

Benjy sighed heavily before shoving past his father, stowing his backpack on the rack above the seats. “Why did you make me walk back here? Those other spots were fine. And why did you make me come here at all? What the heck are we going to do in the city today? What’s so important that I had to drop everything?”

“You’ll see,” Hiram said as he sat down and looked around expectantly.

“You keep saying that!” the teen snapped, drawing his father’s attention back to him. “I could be with my girlfriend today, but instead I’m stuck here with you. And you won’t even tell me why. This is so fucking annoying.”

“Benjy.... Language please” Hiram chided. A flush rose in his cheeks at the thought of Mary hearing that. He’d never criticized the way his son spoke before, but he wanted his wife to think that he was raising their son with better manners.

Benjy snorted. “Really? Now you’re going to act like a dad? Unbelievable.” The teen had just sat down, but he got to his feet now. “I’m going to find the bathroom. Or the snack bar. Or someplace where you aren’t.”

“Wait! You can’t leave.” Hiram grabbed his son’s wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. “If you go now, you’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?” Benjy still looked exasperated, but he stopped to listen. Maybe it helped that Hiram had never asked him for much before, so the desperate pleading intrigued him.

“Her. I want her to see you.”

“What did you say? Is this about some woman you’re seeing?” Benjy shook his head in disbelief. “Look, Dad, I don’t care what you do in your personal life. I really don’t. And maybe I’d have said hello to this woman if you’d just been honest with me from the start. But I don’t like how you brought me here. It feels like you tricked me into getting on this train to meet her, and I don’t like that. I’m out of here. I’ll see you when we’re off this train.”

“Wait! It’s not like that.” Hiram tried desperately to hold onto his son, but Benjy escaped his grasp. Then Hiram froze as he saw Mary in the doorway, tears rolling down her cheeks.

There was no way that Benjy couldn’t see her. He was facing the doorway of the cabin. He was less than a foot away from her. His eyes were wide open. And...he walked through her. His body passed right through her as he stormed out of the cabin. Mary clutched her chest and turned to watch him leave. She stood there for a long minute, either absorbing every detail of her son that she could, or she was avoiding looking at her husband. Finally, she did turn back to Hiram and said, “You knew I didn’t want you to bring him here, and yet you did it anyway. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t walk away too.”

“I don’t know that it’s a good reason.” Hiram looked down at his hands clasped in his lap. “It’s a selfish reason. But I can’t bear to have both my son and my wife hate me right now. So, stay. Give me a chance to make it up to you.” He saw a flash of blue dress move in the corner of his eye, and when he looked up, Mary was sitting across from him. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, but she had stopped crying. He said, “Thank you.”

Mary shook her head. “I just don’t understand. Why did you do this? I already told you, Benjy doesn’t need me in the same way. That meant I knew he wouldn’t be able to see me. So why did you bring him here?”

“I had hoped you were wrong about that.” Hiram held out his empty hands, as if he could offer her something. The memory of her crying as her son looked through her was putting a hole in his stomach. “But even if he couldn’t see you, I knew you could at least see him.”

“I also told you that I’m beyond that!” she snapped. She didn’t sound like she was beyond it, but he wasn’t going to contradict her. “The worst thing about all of this is that you keep deciding that you know what’s best for me, when you really, really don’t. So just stop it.”

“I know, and I was wrong. But I just wanted to show him to you. He’s so handsome. And he’s doing well. It’s one thing for me to tell you how your son is doing, but I wanted you to be able to see that with your own eyes. I’m sorry.”

She wiped her cheeks and looked in the direction her son had gone. “I know you’ve shown me photos before, but I was still picturing him as that little boy I last saw on the day I left. It’s hard to accept that I’ll never see my little boy again, since he no longer exists. He’s a young man now. I’ll never get the chance to raise him — to go to a parent teacher conference, or to make him his favorite food when a girl breaks his heart, or see him off to a school dance, and to see him graduate. I’ve had all the experiences with my son that I’m going to get. Riding the train with him isn’t going to change that. He knows his mother is gone.”

Hiram’s stomach sank, accepting what she was saying. Just because he didn’t consider his wife gone didn’t mean that she wasn’t gone for their son, and any attempts he would make to bring them together would just hurt both of them. He reached out, hovering his hand above hers in a gesture which had become common between them; it meant they were holding hands, even if neither could feel it. He said, “Mary, I understand now how what I did made you feel. I’m sorry, and I’ll never do it again. I’m sorry.”

She nodded and wiped her cheeks with her free hand. With a sniffle, she said, “I know you meant well. And I don’t mind when you tell me about what’s going on in his life. You can still do that.”

“Honestly, it’s hard to know what’s going on in his life these days. I wish I knew more, but he’s got this wall up with me. He spends most of his time at his girlfriend’s house. I could tell you about her though.” When Mary’s eyes brightened, Hiram continued, telling her about the nice girl their son was seeing, who wanted to become a teacher after she graduated high school. He even made his wife laugh, telling her about how awkward Benjy was once, when the girl came over for dinner and Hiram had chatted with her about Benjy’s childhood while his son’s face turned redder and redder like he wanted to fade out of existence from mortification.

When the conversation lapsed into silence, Hiram’s cheeks ached from smiling, the muscles especially tired because they only got used once a year. Uncaring if it sounded like it was coming out of nowhere, he blurted, “I love you, Mary. As much as on the day I married you. I think about you every day. You’re still with me in that way. I don’t even change the paint on the walls without thinking which color you’d prefer.”

She smiled in a way that didn’t completely reach her eyes. “That’s the way I would be with you, if I were gone in the traditional sense. Your thoughts might come to me in passing, and there’d be the sense I was there but not really. I worry that I’m holding you back by being here every year, making you feel like you’re still tied to me. Maybe you would’ve met someone and remarried by now and found happiness if I weren’t on this train?”

Hiram squeezed the air where her hand wasn’t. “I don’t need to find happiness.”

* ten years later *

By the time Mary arrived in the cabin, Hiram had already set up a little table in cabin thirteen with cards face down on it. The cabin was looking worse for wear. The wood was nicked in places with a lighter wood showing through the finish, and in some spots people had even carved initials, or vandalized with a sharpie marker. The seat cushions were torn, and while a feeble attempt had been made to patch the damage, eventually it had been given up with the stuffings allowed to leak from the seats like entrails from a wounded animal.

Knowing he was looking worse for wear too these days, he felt an odd kinship with the neglected train. Really, it didn’t matter. When Mary sat across from him, completely untouched by time, he saw the train as it once had been. He hoped she saw him the same way but was too scared to ask. And besides, even if she did see his receding white hair and the way he squinted to look through his glasses, he knew it didn’t matter to her. She’d say when they married, they had vowed to spend their lives together, so it didn’t change things that only one of them was aging.

Mary asked, “What are we playing today?”

“The English card game, Put. Sound good? Or you want to play something else?”

“I’m game,” she said as she sat down.

Since he was the dealer, normally as the non-dealer she would have had the right to cut the cards, but since she couldn’t touch them, they’d had to adapt to the game. He closed his eyes and lifted the three cards on her side of the table so she could see what she had to play with. She made a little sound in the back of her throat, and he couldn’t tell if she was pleased with what she held, or if she was just playing him.

“Okay,” she said, and Hiram put down her cards and reopened his eyes. She pointed to the card on his left. “I’m playing that one.”

Hiram moved her card before looking at his own. Fours...this was going to be a tough game. They lost themselves in the game for a while, laughing and teasing as they tried to outplay each other. He got to see his wife smile again. The years melted between them, and they could have been any couple riding the train together, perhaps on the way to their honeymoon in the city.

It wasn’t that he was from the present or his wife was frozen in the past — this was a place in between where the two of them could come together and spend a little bit of time together each year. It was bliss.

“I put!” his wife declared triumphantly, pointing to her winning hand.

“Oh,” Hiram blinked in surprise. He had been so lost in his daydreams that he hadn’t been playing close enough attention to the game. Accepting her win, he said, “I throw up my cards.”

“That was quick,” she said. “Would you like to play another round?”

“Maybe later,” he said. “Sweetheart, there’s something serious we have to talk about.”

“Is it Benjy? Is he okay?”

“It’s not him,” he said. “He’s okay as far as I know. We actually haven’t talked in a while, not since he moved in with his girlfriend.”

“What happened?” she asked, and he suspected she was grasping on this tangent to delay the bad news.

Knowing he wouldn’t get many more chances to be honest with his wife, Hiram told her, “We got into an argument. He accused me of never moving past your death. I didn’t deny it. He said he wanted to move forward in his life, not backwards, so he couldn’t continue living under the same roof with me anymore.”

“This is my fault,” Mary said. “If I weren’t here still, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s not your fault you died, and you aren’t making me come here.” He reached out in the gesture that had become common between them, where he would hold one hand above hers to show that although he couldn’t touch her, he wanted to in this moment. For the first time, he noticed how, although her hand was as smooth and perfect as the day he’d first slipped a ring on it, his hand was weathered and wrinkled with time, and now blue veins bulged on the back of it. He held his wife’s eyes and said, “Even if you weren’t here, I still wouldn’t have been able to move on. What happened between me and our son was not your fault. The failure was mine alone.”

His wife nodded, seeming to accept that. She said, “Even though it wasn’t my fault I died, I’m still sorry it happened. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to share your life with you.”

Hiram squeezed the air around where her hand would have been. He said, “You did share your life with me. You never left me. You didn’t have to stay, but you did. I love you for that.”

She wiped her cheeks with the hand he wasn’t holding, and choked out, “You didn’t have to come here, but you did. And I love you for that, Hiram.”

After a moment, he shifted the topic back to what had to be discussed. “Mary, we’ve known since the start that we were on borrowed time. And now that time is almost up. I found out that this train we’re riding is being decommissioned in May. And since we can only meet once a year, that means that this is the last time we’re going to get a chance to see each other.”

Mary took a deep breath. “I know. I heard some of the train conductors talking about it.” She stared at him for a second, before adding, “I was going to tell you about this, but I expected you to be a lot more upset.”

Hiram gave a breathy laugh. “I was upset. Very. I found out about this a few months ago, and I about lost my mind. I was calling the motor vehicle administration about every day, trying to convince them to not destroy the train. I even tried to offer to buy the train...even though I don’t have the savings for that, but I was about ready to take out loans. But as it turned out, they had already sold the train for scrap metal, so there was nothing I could do to change their minds. I just had to accept it.”

“And you accepted it?” she asked, and despite being married to her for decades, he couldn’t read her feelings on the matter. Was she glad he had finally accepted the situation, or was she sad or even angry that he wasn’t fighting the inevitable?

Continuing with honesty, Hiram said, “I wouldn’t say I just accepted it. After I couldn’t think of anything else to do, I went to the park. I needed some fresh air. And while I was walking through the park trying to clear my head, I started to think about what I would say if you were there, and I could even hear your responses. Or what I thought you would say. And even though you weren’t really there, I felt less alone. I suddenly realized how other people who don’t have our connection cope in the face of this loss. And all these years, I’ve been lucky to be able to talk to you, if only once a year. I can see that now.”

“And you don’t need that anymore?” she asked. “You don’t need to see me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, Mary. I always need you, but you are such a wonderful wife that you’ve made me a better, stronger man. I’m able to bear your loss now without being broken by it. I’m going to be okay, until we meet again.”

His wife’s face lit with a smile that made her blue eyes sparkle. “I had hoped to hear you say that one day. I’m happy, Hi.” When Hiram reached out his hand as if he could cup her cheek, she leaned into it. “I know I will be sad to say goodbye in a moment, but right now I’m just happy.”

Hiram said, “My wonderful wife. You’ve given me so much. I wish I could do something in return for you.” She froze and he could tell something had just occurred to her. He lowered his hand and prompted her, “What is it? Just ask.”

“Well... She hesitated as her eyes darted around the cabin. They were alone, but he didn’t think she was assessing that, as it had been years since they worried about drawing eyes with their half-silent conversations. Finally, Mary continued, “There is something. I dropped it a long time ago and can’t pick it up. It’s still here though. Over there, under that seat. I’d like it if you could pick it up for me, please.”

“Over there?” he asked, as he got up and walked over to the seats across the aisle.

Mary appeared at his side and pointed to the ground. “Yes, it rolled under this seat. You might have to get down to reach it.”

Hiram braced himself on the seat as he bent, his knees groaning like door hinges in need of oil. After probing in the darkness under the seat for a moment and after finding only a water bottle and a candy wrapper, he said, “I don’t think there’s anything here, Mary.”

She peeked under the chair and said, “It’s still there. I’ll guide you to it. A little to the right and farther back. You’ve almost got it. Just reach behind the leg of the seat, where it’s bracketed to the wall. You’ll feel something metal.”

Hiram was about to complain again that nothing was there, but then he felt it. It was metal yet made of a different kind of material than the chair leg. The metal object was wedged in well against the wall, but it wiggled when he pressed it. He had to slide it up against the wall to get it free. As Hiram pulled the small metal object out, he opened his mouth to ask her if this is what she was looking for, but when he saw it, he didn’t have to ask. It was a small vintage Hot Wheels car, like the collection Benjy had as a boy. The sight of it shocked him so much that he hastily sat down, fearing he would fall over. Cupping it in his palms as if it were as delicate and precious as an egg, Hiram looked up at his wife and asked, “Is this for Benjy? I mean, I know it is, he wanted to be a police officer when he was a kid, he would have loved to add this Hot Wheels to his set as a kid. But, this car, is this what you left the house to buy on that day?”

She nodded. “He wanted it for his birthday. I got it from the vintage toy shop in town. No box, but I didn’t think he’d mind.”

His hands shook. “I never knew why you left the house that day. There were so many places I’d imagined you going... I should have just asked years ago.”

Mary shrugged. “I would have just told you it didn’t matter why I left.”

Hiram stared at her. “Doesn’t matter? Mary, this is your unfinished business. Isn’t that obvious? You needed to give this to our son, that’s why you’re still here.”

“I thought so too at first,” she said as she sat beside him on the chair, looking into the distance outside the window. “I thought that for years, that if I didn’t deliver my son his gift, then I would have died for nothing. But that’s putting too much weight on the final moments of my life, when the whole of my life mattered so much more than that last hour of my life. And yet, for the longest time, I still wanted to deliver that toy to Benjy. On the day I met you again on the train, after I had been gone for five years, I almost told you about the toy under the seat, but I worried that you would resent Benjy and blame him for my death.”

“Of course not,” Hiram said, hovering his hand above her knee. “I would never blame Benjy. What happened was no one’s fault.”

She met his eyes and smiled. “I know that now. You were angry for a while, but I know that you wouldn’t have directed that anger at our son. And after I figured that out, I didn’t tell you about the toy car then because I figured that it isn’t my unfinished business. You are. You and my son. I want you to go to him.” She cupped her incorporeal hand over his, like she wanted to close his hand around the toy. “I want you to give this to him as a gift from me, maybe tell him you found it in the attic, wrapped as a present from me for his birthday all those years ago. But more than that, I want you to talk to him. Try to make things right. That’s my unfinished business, getting you two to talk to each other again. Please, take this opportunity. For me.”

He swallowed heavily and nodded. “I will.” There wasn’t much optimism in him about this, but he would try. For his wife. Hiram squeezed the little car in his hand before slipping it into his pocket. He said, “Now that your unfinished business is done, I’m afraid you’re going to disappear on me. Like a puff of smoke in the air.”

Mary smiled wryly, surprising him. But then, she always had a way of surprising him. “I told you, Hi. That wasn’t my unfinished business anymore. You are it now. And I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you.”

“Is there a way for two people like us to ever say goodbye?” Hiram asked, though his throat tried to close around the words.

She leaned back and looked at the ceiling like she was considering the question. Then she said, “Well, I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye the first time we parted, and I wished we had had the chance. So, I don’t know if I want to pass it up now while I can say it.”

“But that’s the point,” he insisted. “We don’t need to say goodbye because we will find each other again. So, it’s just until next time for us. Don’t you see that?”

She smiled again, and for the first time he noticed tiny creases at the corners of her eyes that might have become wrinkles if she’d lived longer. Mary said, “You’re right. This isn’t the end of the line. This is just the next stop on the journey.”

Making a noise that was half between a snort and a sob, he said, “You’ve been on this train too long, and you’ve started speaking in train metaphors. But I suppose I can’t blame you for that.”

“What?” she whined. “It makes sense to me when I think about it like that. I’m even thinking about where I’m going next in that way. When I knew this was the last year that I was going to be able to meet you, I decided I wasn’t going to keep riding the train in the months before they dismantle and decommission the train. After you get off the train today, I’m ready. I’m going to ride this train to whatever is next for me.”

Hiram swallowed heavily. “And what do you think that is?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m ready to find out.” Mary looked up at the sign as a chime and the crackle of the speaker announced the train had arrived at the platform. “Oh look, this is your stop.”

Just when Hiram thought that he had found his center, he started blubbering again and clawing at the air in a desperate and losing battle to hold his incorporeal wife’s hand. He sobbed, “You can’t go, I’m not ready.”

She leaned forward and gestured as if cupping his hand in her face. Close enough to kiss him, she whispered, “I know, Hi. We’ll never be ready. But it’s time to go. And let’s not waste it crying when we could be saying something important.”

“Like what?” Hiram asked, trying to settle himself since she was right. He’d said everything he could think to say to his wife, and as he came to that conclusion, he realized more than anything that it might be time to go. But it might not be the same for her, so he asked, “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

She nodded and said, “I want to know why you’re here. And I know we’ve talked about that before, but still, why? To come back every year feels devotional, almost romantic, and we were never a romantic couple. You didn’t buy me flowers, or write me poetry, or bring me breakfast in bed. And I didn’t expect any of that, that just wasn’t us. We didn’t have some great love story when I was alive, so why should it be any different when I’m dead?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking...” Hiram said, leaning away from her as he was too ashamed to meet her gaze. He wished he could deny what she said about him not being romantic. But it was true. When he proposed to her, it was asked casually over dinner; he hadn’t even gotten a ring at the time.

“I’m not insulting you or saying I wanted something different. I was happy in our marriage,” she said, and then she smiled. “ I am happy. I’m just asking why now. Why did you show me so much love and loyalty after death? Were you just idealizing me after I was gone? Because it’s odd to me that the man who regularly forgot Valentine’s Day now remembers to come here every year.”

“Because you’re here,” Hiram said. It seemed so simple to him that he was confused it even had to be said. “You are the person I chose to be beside me in my life, so of course I came here to be with you. I know that’s not romantic, but it’s true.”

Her smile widened. “It’s romantic enough for me.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but they both looked up as the overhead speaker announced his stop. Mary said, “It’s time.”

Hiram surprised himself by not clinging to her, and he instead got up and walked to the door of the train with his wife beside him for the last time. The door opened and he hesitated to step through as he turned back to face her. “Mary, I...”

“Don’t say goodbye,” she reminded him.

“I wasn’t going to,” Hiram insisted. For a moment, he just hovered on the threshold, between being in the train and being off it. Between having a wife and being a widower. “Until I see you again,” Hiram said as he stepped off the train. “Thank you for being my wife. I love you.”

Mary stood there as the doors slid shut. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to, and as the train started to move, he ran alongside it for a few paces, hoping for one last glimpse of her face in a window, but he didn’t see her. She was gone.

Many years ago, Mary had learned that a simple choice could make all the difference. Like her choice to marry Hiram, or to have Benjy, go to nursing school, and to board this train one day. Now a simple choice could finish this journey. As she watched her husband’s face vanish on the platform as the train pulled away, Mary accepted that it was done. She had done the best she could for her family over the years. There was something she’d never mentioned to Hiram, not wanting his pity or concern. For a long time, she’d felt trapped on this train. Hiram saw her on her best days, but as she waited for him to visit every year, in between that there were months of loneliness and isolation and boredom. It was a true purgatory.

But a simple choice could end this. Mary had not just been here for her family, waiting to fix things with them, but a small part of her felt like she deserved this as punishment. Even though the accident on the train had been no one’s fault, she blamed herself for the choice she’d made to step on that train. By dying, she had abandoned her child, and she hadn’t been able to forgive herself for that. Now though... Mary closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let go of that resentment. 

When she reopened her eyes, she saw a light outside the windows. At first, she thought the brightness was due to the train exiting a tunnel, but it kept getting brighter and brighter. Then she realized what was happening — the next stop was up ahead. There would be peace and happiness, now that she finally felt like she deserved it. She was ready to finally get off this train.

About the Author

Erica Lee Berquist

Since graduating from Towson University in 2014 with a BS in English, Erica Lee Berquist has worked for Cloudmed Solutions LLC as a Recovery Analyst. Erica’s work has been published in Grub Street Literary Magazine’s volumes 65 and 71, Levitate Magazine issue 7, Sheepshead Review’s Spring 2023 Edition, OFIC Magazine issue 6, German Poems anthology by Poet’s Choice, Marathon Literary Review issue 24, and Nat 1’s anthology Star-Crossed and Other Tales of Intergalactic Love. In her free time, she enjoys making jewelry, researching family history for herself and others, gardening, and spending time with her cats.