Train Number Five [One Shot]

By La Fata Aurora


How Did I Fall in Love with You?

The Five Train is always crowded when I take it to go home. It is not unusual, for the majority of the fellas from the Business District come home whenever I do. Although I am not one of them, I would squeeze into the tightly packed 5:32 train, together with the rest of those neatly coiffed, decent looking men. Long gone was the shame that my grubby clothes could possibly rub into the hordes of Versace and Armani, and in place was the eagerness to go home and sleep. I twisted my body to fit myself into the crowd, hugging my worn messenger bag while I push for the back of the car. My stop was second from the last, so I didn't want to be on anybody's way.

"Next Stop, Lavender Field Circle. Stand clear of the closing doors please…"

I did not grow up used to taking the train. To be honest, this was only my fourth year of doing so, since the costs of a car and its impending expenses are beyond what I could afford. After my parents' divorce, the effects of my father's failed ventures slowly manifested themselves, and it went on for years, drastically changing our once affluent lifestyle with a complete 180 turn. By then, I was taking menial jobs to support the family, but eventually I was forced to drop out from the university when my father was diagnosed with an incurable disease.

Now, looking back, the story of my life seems surreal, a riches to rags story that is still waiting for its conclusion. I hated it. I hated it all. I hated the newspaper and milk route, the nights in the norebang and the shame, the shame that I felt when my rich friends would walk up and catch me doing these jobs. Earlier on, I used to make excuses to save my pride, but in the end, when no redemption seemed to be apparent along the horizon, I gave up—at this point my excuses had obviously evolved into lies.

Back then, everyday seemed like a vicious cycle, underscored by frequent harassment from our lenders, untimely trips to the hospital and the seemingly endless bills to pay. It was a nightmare. An unending nightmare.

"This is, Lavender Field Circle. Stay back and let the train doors open please."

I press back to the emergency door as the rest of the passengers attempt to accommodate more straphangers. Lavender Field Circle usually brings in riders from the younger crowd, and seeing that the cars are full, most of them stayed back in wait for the next train. I look through the window at my right while I grip on for balance. Although its been years since I've last enjoyed the popular hotspot to the fullest, I feel nothing as my eyes breezed through the familiar station, and I smile, mentally congratulating myself. Through the years, amidst hardship and pain, I've grown to realize how curveballs in life were truly blessings in disguise. Some call it growing up, but I prefer to call it 'that time when I earned my battle scars'.

"Next Stop, ShinHwa. Stand clear of the closing doors please."

I blinked as my mind registered that last call, and I raised my head up, tracking the board that indicated the train's progress with my eyes.

There it is again. I told myself as the ends of my body began to feel light. There is that whirring, spinning, dizzying sensation again, something that I would feel everytime the train operator announces our proximity to the ShinHwa Schools. I suddenly straighten up, springing to the pads of my feet as I shake my head. If she'd see me like this, she'll…

I looked down at my clothes—the yellowing V-neck and soiled jeans slashed around the knees. This was the only time when I realized how dirty they really were.

The train doors closed at my right, and I remembered that first time.

It was a Monday, a horrible day for work, because my boss would usually come in on Mondays all crabby after paying the week's child support and alimony. I remember how he grilled us to death that day, enforcing unreasonable deadlines and cutting the lunch break in half. All the workers were sent home three hours passed the usual five, and by then I was beat tired, on top of not finishing my meal early on the day. I am not going to deny it, but I was also becoming crabby myself. I guess, the only consolation that I had was that the train was empty at that hour, and I was to able to take a moment and relax my tortured limbs from the day's work. I started dozing off.

Two short stops later, she stepped in…crabbier than I was.

"Those pesky little kids." I heard her grumble as she stomped into the train. With my eyes closed, I paid her no mind, leaning my head on the side rail for a more comfortable position.

But she was reeeeeally crabby, pretty hard to miss, because a second later, she was yelling mercilessly from her seat.

"I hate it! I hate it so much!"

By now I was already awaken from my stupor, throwing an incredulous stare at her direction. I found her sitting on the other side of the train door behind me, yelling at her cellphone. I looked around. Empty. For some reason, I find the idea of me being alone with her utterly terrifying (She looked like she was ready to bloody murder somebody).

"Jan Di! I didn't know it was gonna turn out like this!" She yelled again, pausing when this 'Jan Di' on the other end of the line was seemingly trying to console her. She began sobbing, "No…It's not the kids…I—"

She paused again, and this time, she bit her lip. From in between the side rails I see that she wiped the tears from her eyes, and she calmed down a bit. "You're right. It's only the first day…" She sighed, that cute little sound fitting her more than her introductory growl, "Yes. I'll do better tomorrow. I'll definitely do better tomorrow!"

"Fighting!"

"This is ShinHwa Schools. Stand back and let the train doors open please. Watch your step in this station!"

I stirred from my reverie just in time for a familiar pink ribbon to catch my eye. It disappeared a second later, as people began pushing back to accommodate a confusing microcosm of influx and efflux to and from ShinHwa. Screaming children followed. I dart my eyes from the crowd before me, and then to the outside. I tried to spot her. More screaming ensued, followed by frustrated calls here and there. Somebody pushed me, another one hit my arm. Apologies. The platform outside was starting to empty, so I searched inside the train car instead. If only I could move from my spot, I would have a better look at the middle of the car. But it was time for the train to whip out its warning chime, and I sighed. This is impossible. The only thing that I could do was to console myself by thinking that she's in the same train as me…

That one Monday was only the beginning. After that night, I would always look for her. It began as a curiosity, which grew into a worry, as I wanted to find out how she had settled in. I didn't see her the next day. Or the day after. For days I took my leave from the site around eight, which is the same time when my boss dismissed us that one fateful Monday. It only took stupid me a few weeks to realize my mistake, when finally I saw her thumping into the 5:32 train. That day was a complete turn-around from her sullen one many, many nights ago, she, wearing the brightest smile and matching it with a dainty yellow sundress. For a moment, I looked at her from my place at the back of the train and felt my face soften. She was like a burst of sunshine that day, talking to someone animatedly, her eyes glistening, filled with energy. Although I couldn't hear what she was saying, I assumed that everything went well for her, given that she could wear a smile like it was Christmas morning…

The train stopped for the next station and I hear the operator fill us in with the possible transfers available. I looked up and saw that my stop was eight stations away. People started filing out of the car. I looked away the moment I saw the pink ribbon that she used as a headband, turning around as I decided to save the vacated seat beside me.

"Next stop, Blue Archway Square. Stand clear of the closing doors please."

I quickly turned her way, but to my surprise, the pink ribbon was already gone.

Ding-dong. And the doors closed with a click.

It was not the first time—I've seen this scene many times before, though with one slight difference: Violet. Blue. Green. Or maybe a yellow ribbon. Sometimes it was a silver headband with beads, or a gold one with little jewels. Sometimes she ditched the hairband thing altogether, opting for wild curls with a flower pin or a heart shaped clip. One winter night she came in with a side braid, and if you ask me, that is the one that I love the most. I can tell that she loves her hair ornaments, and they change like a mood meter, reflecting how she probably expects her day to turn out. One too many times, I've wondered what it would mean when the day comes and I see her wearing nothing on her hair…

I'd definitely ask her, someday.

The train came out of the tunnel and I finally got reception on my phone. I still had a few stations before mine, so I began working on my phone until then. I remember leaving a reminder last night on my to do list, about grocery shopping. For the next ten minutes, I sit there, trying to go over the ingredients that I need for Spaghetti with Bayleaf, planning to get it from the shop across my apartment. I don't like Spaghetti with Bayleaf, but what can I do? That is the only dish I knew how to cook properly. I edited my list when I find that I got the number for tomato sauce cans to be lacking. I should probably cook more. In my current condition, I should eat more.

"Next stop, Halibut Village. Stand clear of the closing doors please."

What could have possibly happened if my boss wasn't his old crabby self that day? Would I have met her in some other way? I asked myself as I saw the sign for the last stop move away, the train picking up speed from under me. It has been three years since then, and like the change of time that each and every ornament of hers represent, my life went on in its own way, sometimes running the good course, sometimes running the bad: Sometimes yellow. Sometimes blue. I would not deny that I miss those times when I didn't have to worry about anything, when everything was right there at my reach, ripe for picking. However right now, I do not wish for it to be back. I do not wish to revert back. My life back then was indeed prosperous, but I did not feel prosperous. I remember myself always watching out for the next big thing: the newest cellphone, the coolest car, the most expensive clothes or the most popular crowd. I was always chasing after something, but at the end of the day, when I already have it in my grasps, it doesn't look so appealing anymore. For some reason, the excitement dies and I look out for something new. It was an unquenchable hunger. It was unending. It was unadulterated greed.

That was my life back then, and now…

I looked at my phone and scrolled for the Text Message icon. I typed in a message. Several seconds later, a reply came back.

I'm still at work. So tired!

I frowned at the message.

Almost home. Making Spaghetti and Bayleaf.

I pushed the send button, smiling as I already know what the reply is going to be. Now thinking about it, maybe I should add another can of tomato sauce…

I looooove Spaghetti and Bayleaf!

…you know, just in case.

"This is Seven Undercrossings Street. Stay back and let the train doors open."

I adjusted the messenger bag on my shoulder as I followed several people out of the train, yawning in the middle of the platform as I headed out to the exit. I stopped as I decided to stretch out for a bit, preparing myself from a little bit of walking, before I moved on.

And that was when I found her standing a few paces from me, smiling.

"Hi." She waved in her own pretty way that I had to blink several times over. She was really here. The Pink Ribbon Lady, she was really here!

"Hey." I see her face, and I couldn't help but smile back. I remember her disappearing at the Bellevue stop, so I had to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"Curious?" She took a small step forward, but not further, "I wanted to surprise you."

"Oh really?" I was suddenly out of words. I swiped a nervous hand across my hair, and I feel the grime, so I quickly apologize for it, "I'm sorry, if I had known that you'd be waiting here—"

"Oppa? What are you saying?" She closed the gap in between us so fast I wasn't prepared for the sweet scent of her perfume. She raised her palms and held the sides of my face, smiling that bright smile of hers, "You shouldn't apologize for working hard."

And just like that, I was reminded of why I love this woman so much.

I held her hand on my face, "Ga Eul, you're truly one of a kind."

She gazed into my eyes, and clearly I saw how my words warmed her heart, "You are too, So Yi Jeong. Ever wondered why I married you?"

I chuckled and gently squeezed her left hand on my face. I felt that simple gold band on her finger rub on my palm. It had only been last winter, but only if I knew better, I would have asked her that same night she came crying from an awful first day in ShinHwa.

"Let's go home." Ga Eul took her place under my arm as she urged me to walk. She always does that when we take walks, and it made it easier for me to bury my face on her hair. She giggled when I did, "It's strawberry today. Smells good?"

"Yes." I pull her by the waist as we walk towards the exit. She began talking about her day, and the many things that her 'kids' (she calls her students 'her kids') were capable of doing. Sun Hee this. Min Ji that. Anna did this while singing Abracadabra without an accent and she was so cute as a button. By the time we came out of the station she has already gone over her class roster and was moving to her friend's class when I found the opportunity to remind her about grocery shopping.

"Oh yeah. You're cooking tonight." Ga Eul tapped a finger on her lips. She scratched the side of her head and the motion pulled her pink headband in tow. "Oh no."

My wife sighs and to my great wonder, takes the ribbon off.

"Why did you take it off?" I asked as we cross the street. Ga Eul takes her time answering while she neatly folds the ribbon before depositing it into her bag. She looks at me fondly.

"I don't need it anymore. You're here, aren't you?"

I have no idea what she's talking about.

"What? Did you forget?" She looked at me in disbelief, and then in disappointment. "You really don't remember, huh?"

She sighed as we started walking for supermarket. I was slowly feeling like a bad husband because of that dejected look on her face.

"The first time we met," Ga Eul mumbled, crestfallen, "my ribbon got stuck in the side rail because I took a nap. I had to get off the train, so I decided to leave it…"

I remember that well. Sometime after her phone conversation with Jan Di, she took a nap and somehow her headband got tied into the wall that held the railings.

"You tried pulling it out for me, remember? But I already jumped out of the train…" Ga Eul's lips were slowly forming a smile, and she wistfully looked up, like remembering a beautiful memory, "When the doors closed and I saw you wave the ribbon up at me, I was like, hmmm…beats a cellphone number anytime."

"You did?" I laughed, and to my surprise Ga Eul began blushing, "You did." I stated with abated breath.

"And from then on I decided to wear something on my hair so that you could easily spot me on the train. It worked pretty well now, didn't it?" She gave me a wink while she raised our joined hands together, showing off our weddings bands. "Told you, beats a cellphone number anytime."

At that moment, as I watched my beautiful wife smile happily at the sight of our hands, I was once again reminded why I didn't want things to change from what they were. True, I lost the comfort that my father's money gave me; I also lost some friends along the way, but let's face it, if I wasn't on the Five Train that night, foolishly waving her ribbon for her to see, I wouldn't be standing next to her in this sidewalk, thinking how lucky I am to have found someone who I love and who loves me back.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

She's all that I need.