Disclaimer: The first set of lyrics is from the song "Sentimental Lady" by Fleetwood Mac. The second set is, again, from Remy Zero's "Fair."
Author's Note: Trivher and I have re-designed our Molly/Carey website and moved it to a new location. Please check it out and let us know what you think! Thanks.
Chapter Seven
Most of the passengers on the train seemed to pass the time by sleeping the day away. I sat up in my seat, alert, watching as various landscapes whirled by in my window. In a weird way, it reminded me of the bus—sitting near the window and watching all the different towns fly by. Who would've thought I'd ever miss that bus? I got so sick of it—I had just wanted to be on solid ground again—and now, on this fast-moving train, I wished I were back on that bus. The glory days were gone. If only I could have that back. The nonstop touring, the cabin fever, Fiona's endless and dangerous adventures, Irene's habit of being way too controlling, mid-afternoon jam sessions with Carey… that's all I wanted. I wish I had appreciated it more when I had it.
But it doesn't do any good to sit around wishing.
On Sunday morning, I couldn't stop my mind from racing. I didn't expect to be so jittery—but I was actually nervous. Today was the day. Four years, an era, would come to an end today. This afternoon, I would have closure. I would see Carey.
The next few hours went by painfully slowly. I just stared out the window and watched as the scenery made its final few changes. Soon, we were in New York. Orange County. Westchester. The Bronx. Harlem. The Upper West Side. We were almost there. Midtown, for a second—and then, everything went black. We're underground, I realized. Which meant…
"Penn Station," the robotic voice announced over the intercom.
I'm here.
The voice of the captain immediately followed, as he rambled on about making sure to gather all our belongings and be courteous of the other passengers as we exited the train. "Enjoy your stay in New York."
It was too late to turn back.
As I took my first step onto that platform, I immediately became overwhelmed with the sights and sounds of Penn Station. Everywhere I looked were people, young, old, families, couples, pulling and carrying their luggage, some talking loudly, some silent, some looking around in awe much as I was. It was crowded, noisy, abnormally warm, stuffy, and undeniably New York. I breathed it in, trying to capture its essence in my memory somehow, and then began following the crowd to the exit—or the entrance, depending on how you look at it. For me, it was both.
And then I heard it.
You are here and warm
But I could look away and you'd be gone
'Cause we live in a time
When meaning falls in splinters from our lives
And that's why I've traveled far
'Cause I come so together where you are
It was so faint—I could just barely make it out. I wasn't even sure it was him, at first. I guess it was more instinct than anything.
And all of the things that I said that I wanted
Come rushing by in my head when I'm with you
Fourteen joys and a will to be merry
And all of the things that we say are very
Sentimental gentle wind
Blowing through my life again
Sentimental lady, gentle one
I walked in the direction of the music. A woman was singing. She had a pleasant voice, I had to admit it. And then—something—clicked. I heard the guitar strings, I guess. And don't ask me how, but I knew. I could just tell. And then I saw him.
Now you are here today
But easily you might just go away
'Cause we live in a time
When paintings have no color, words don't rhyme
And that's why I've traveled far
'Cause I come so together where you are
My breath caught in my throat, and I stood, frozen. He didn't see me. His head was down, as he focused so intently on his playing. I always loved that about him. He was just like me, that way. So driven. So completely absorbed by the music.
And all of the things that I said that I wanted
Come rushing by in my head when I'm with you
Fourteen joys and a will to be merry
And all of the things that we say are very
Sentimental gentle wind
Blowing through my life again
Sentimental lady, gentle one
There was a fairly large crowd of people around the band, some stopping briefly to listen and then continuing their journey, some swaying in time with the song, others just pushing to get through the crowd. I was somehow trapped in the midst of it all.
You are here and warm
But I could look away and you'd be gone
'Cause we live in a time
When meaning falls in splinters from our lives
And that's why I've traveled far
'Cause I come so together where you are
I continued to watch him. He looked different, somewhat—more rugged on the edges. A little older and a little wiser. But his eyes were shining, and a tiny smile played on his lips—he was happy. I was glad.
Yes and all of the things that I said that I wanted
Come rushing by in my head when I'm with you
Fourteen joys and a will to be merry
And all of the things that we say are very
Sentimental gentle wind
Blowing through my life again
Sentimental lady, gentle one
The song was nearly over, and the crowd began to murmur their approval. I wondered how long this would last—how long I'd be standing here. I kind of hoped maybe they'd launch into another song, and another, and I could just stay here, hidden, where he wouldn't see me… until I was ready. Because suddenly I wasn't sure if I was.But time was running out, and now there was no going back.
Sentimental gentle wind
Blowing through my life again…
And the song faded away. The music stopped, and there was a splattering of applause—nothing too grand, but what could be expected in a subway station? The crowd began to disperse, and I didn't budge. I remained where I was, perfectly still, watching him. He still didn't see me. One of the guys in the band had approached him and was talking about something; Carey was clearly disinterested. He shifted his gaze, presumably to look at the clock, or a sign, or simply to stare into space—and his sight landed on me instead.
I didn't move.
His eyes grew wider, and he just stared me down. The other guy was still talking, I know this because his lips were moving, but somehow it seemed now like the entire station had fallen silent, and all the noise and commotion that had overwhelmed me so intensely just minutes earlier had spontaneously vanished. I wondered if Carey felt the same sensation. I was waiting for something—I guess I expected him to make the first move. He always had. But I guess this time would be different.
Driven by a sudden mobilizing force, I took a few steps forward, until we were just a couple feet apart. "Hi Carey." He moved his mouth, trying to formulate a response, but still didn't say anything. This wasn't really how I envisioned our encounter, and I began to feel foolish. I held my breath. "Aren't you going to say—anything?"
"You're here," he said finally. It was an inadequate statement; we both knew it. "I just—god, I don't know what to say—I had so many things that I would tell you, all planned out in my head—and now that you're here, I forgot everything." Suddenly he turned to his band mates. "I have to go." They looked at him confusedly, then at me, but no one protested. Carey quickly flung the strap of his guitar up over his head and placed it gingerly back inside its case. Then, in one fluid movement, he grasped the handle of his guitar case with one hand, and my hand with the other.
I tried to deny it later, but the moment his fingers brushed mine, I knew it was all over. We walked at a brisk pace through the main concourse of Penn Station and then out onto the street, and I wanted to hold back, but I could feel myself falling, falling, falling, and I remembered again that there was no going back.
So what if you catch me,
Where would we land?
In somebody's life
Forsaking his hands
Sing to me hope as she's
Thrown on the sand
All of our work
Is rated again.
Where to go?