Chapter 3: The Train

"Can you take me to the bank, and then the train station?"

"You running away from home, miss?"

The cab driver smiled, showing yellowed, crooked teeth.

"No, sir, I'm visiting my father's grave in Washington state, and I need money from my bank account. And I fail to see if that's any of your business."

"Ok, Ok, just making sure"

It's none of your business what I am or am not doing I wanted to snap. But I couldn't. I was going to be a new person. Not the Rose DeWitt-Bukater who had always had a bad attitude and fiery temper. No, I would change. Try to be more patient, after all, this was a new life. I couldn't be the same as I always was. I didn't think I could help my fiery temper, for that what went with natural blood red hair, emerald eyes, and pale skin.

I tighted my jacket around myself, not wanting to catch the man ogling anymore than I already had in places he shouldn't have book looking. Men!

"I'll be right back, sir."

"Sure, miss."

Inside the bank I walked up to the bank teller's window.

"I need to withdrawl all the money from my acount. Rose DeWitt-Bukater."

The process took a few minutes, but I was finally holding my life savings. I stuffed it into my wallet, where it would hardly fit. The cab was still waiting for me, and I got inside.

"How much further is the train station, sir?" I asked pleasantly, ready to get as far away from this man as possible.

"About 10 more minutes down the road. You anxious to go see your father's grave, missy?"

"I haven't been there in 5 or 6 years."

It was true. My father and mother had divorced when I was 6, and been dragged off to Hillview Hieghts when I wanted to stay with my father. Then he had died in a wreck shortly after the move. Of course they had gone to the funeral. My mother hadn't shed a tear. Wasn't the picture of despair, or sadness. No, her daughter had taken on that image. They secretly kept in contact when he was still alive by letters and phone calls, and I had even gone so far as to go visit him once.

The weekend he died, I was supposed to go visit him again, and my mother actually knew about it. All of a sudden the cab stopped. I looked around. There was the blessed train station.

"Here's your stop miss. Have a good day."

"Thanks."

I handed him a couple dollars, probably not enough. But I had to get on the train leaving the soonest.

I walked quietly up to the window. "Sir, can you tell me what time the train leaves, and where it's going?" I asked inquistively.

"Certainly, miss, the soonest train is leaving for Chippewa Falls. And it's leaving in 30 minutes. But here's a schedule in case that's not where you're going."

He handed a paper through the window, and I took it.

"Thanks."

I sat down on a nearby old wooden bench. I had no idea where Chippewa Falls was, but that was probably a good thing. That meant it wasn't too big. I didn't need another city like Philadelphia, or Houston, or some other big city. I wanted a small, quiet, everyone-knows-everyone-else town. I would go to Chippewa Falls.

Back to the window I walked.

"I need one ticket to Chippewa Falls."

He looked down at me, studying a girl in her in her tight black jeans, tight sleeveless hot pink shirt, make-up, loose hair, dirty tennis shoes, and suitcase.

"Name?"

"Rose-" What was I going to say? I couldn't say DeWitt-Bukater. My mother was too well known.

"Rose Dawson." He wrote down the name without hesitation.

Whew. The first name that had popped into my head, Dawson. I had no idea why. But at least this stranger didn't know who I was. He named the amount and I handed him the exact change. In exchange, he handed me the ticket, and I looked it over.

"Have a good time on your vacation, miss."

I hated it when people called me miss. It was Rose. And more like new life, not vacation. No, I wouldn't be coming back. I found a bench and sat down, looking at my watch and waiting for 20 minutes to pass.

A pair of laughing teens passed me, not even looking down. They must go to the school across town, because I didn't recognize them. They looked to be popular, yet they were so fake, so plastic. They walked so...like they didn't have to worry about anything. So like I used to walk. A couple minutes later, the man from the ticket counter came out and yelled

"All Aboard!"

I shook my head, so old fashioned. Then I actually laughed. It felt good; I hadn't done it in quite awhile. Most of the time, there was nothing to laugh about.

"Do you need help up miss?"

Jeez, this must really be an old fashioned. Or else I really looked very helpless.

"No, I can get up."

I straightened myself and put an expression on that said "I can help myself, thank you."

I hopped up the stairs to the train. Inside, I looked around and almost laughed again. The only other person on the train was an old lady, probably about 70. Chippewa Falls must really be tiny. I moved to the seat in front of the old lady. There was no use acting afraid of her. She looked like the grandmotherly type, nice and giving. Of course, looks were deceiving sometimes.

"How are you, dear?"

Despite her frail look, her voice was strong. And her eyes. They were a very bright blue. So strong.

"I'm doing okay. How about you?"

"Oh, you know how old people fare. The same."

Silence.

"It's about 6 hours to Chippewa Falls, and I'm just coming back from visiting my husband's sister."

"That's nice."

"Yes, and-"

Oh, God, she was one of those old people who talked all the time. Well, I might as well get comfortable and deal with listening to the old lady for the whole 6 hours.

A phrase caught my attention

"I don't think I've seen you before, and everyone knows everybody else in Chippewa Falls." "This is my first time there."

"Oh really? I hope you have a good time there. There's not much to do, but enough to entertain young people."

"Awesome." I said sort of sarcastically.

The old woman laughed, "You know, my grandson says the same thing sometimes. He's about your age I suppose. You're about 20 aren't you?"

20! First I get the guy that thinks I'm completely helpless, then an old lady who thinks I'm 20.

I smile. "I'm 18."

"Oh, have you graduated yet?"

"No, I do this year."

"Oh, well, 18 is only 2 years away from being 20. Close enough, eh?"

"I guess so."

"Yes, my grandson is a very nice boy. He's an artist, loves to draw. One of the nicest boys I've ever met in my life, but you know how grandmothers are, biased I guess."

Oh, great. Just what I need. A grandmother who was also a matchmaker. Not that I need another boyfriend. Yes, they were nice to have around, but most of them were jerks. Cal's father thought that he was an angel. Just as the lady thought her grandson was a nice boy.

"I guess so."

"Well, he's coming to meet me at the train station, so I can introduce you to him."

Oh, great. I was meeting a nice guy and here I was, looking like a orphan. Which, in my world, I was. Oh, well, he'll just have to like me like I am. Right, like guys are like that. They like you to pump up thier ego, and for other 'special' reasons that were only known to men. I just want one guy to show me they weren't all the same. I sighed; it was going to be a long 6 hours. Might as well make the most of it.