Chapter Six:
Strangers on a Train
"He took the midnight train going anywhere…" - Journey, "Don't Stop Believing"
As Wilson stood before the terminal board in the train station he felt the sudden pang of being overwhelmed. The amount of options before him, the trains that were coming and leaving the station, each another chance to distance himself from Princeton-Plainsboro. "That's a lot of choices." he said aloud as his eyes scanned the list to see when the next train to New York would be departing. He didn't care so much where in New York it left him, so long as it wasn't in the city. He could rent a car and drive from wherever he found himself to Schenectady. That was little more than a simple task and the chance to take in some of the local scenery might do him well. Still, the ever shifting entries and departures listed before him felt like an ocean of options and each one was more enticing than the last.
"Sir," a warm female voice echoed through his mind as he continued to check the board, "sir, you're next." the woman's voice echoed louder the second time around. Wilson blinked several times before directing his attention from the departures board to the woman that was speaking to him. The woman shifted her weight behind the counter and looked annoyed. "Sir." the clerk said a third time, with a hint of exhaustion in her tone. Wilson was brought back to the here and now.
"I'm never this spaced out," he apologized to the woman as he moved closer to her booth, "it's been awhile since I was in a train station like this one; or anything like this." he said absent mindedly. Wilson found it difficult to articulate the exact train that he was looking to be on. "I would like the next train to New York. I don't mind where its destination is either." he said feeling exhausted. The woman behind the desk seemed to roll her eyes, as if he was being more of an inconvenience than it was worth, but he held his tongue. All he wanted to do right now was leave. Leave and never look back.
The woman checked her computer in silence, the only sound coming from her fake nails clicking along the keys. Wilson found himself feeling more and more uncomfortable with each passing second. Glancing around the train station his mind drifted back to his encounter with House in Cuddy's office. It had been so out of character for him to react in the fashion which he had, but he felt almost as if House had it coming to him. House had crossed a line and Wilson knew it didn't matter how he reacted because House would have taken it as his logic was sound. Wilson hated that it had come down to that, but he knew that it was the only response to House's accusation. The only type of reason he tended to believe in.
Wilson's thoughts were interrupted as the woman looked up from her computer, a loud smack bounced through the halls of Wilson's mind as she blew a bubble from the gum she had been chewing. "You're in luck, sir. We have a train leaving for Mastic Beach in about an hour. Is there anything else I can assist you with?" the woman asked. There was a lull as Wilson tried to remember where Mastic Beach was. "Was there something else I could assist you with?" she asked a second time. Again, the venom of her annoyance seeped in through her words like razor blades.
"Oh," Wilson replied feeling a bit confused, "yeah, you don't happen to know the driving time from Mastic Beach to Schenectady?" he asked. Wilson watched as the woman considered what he was asking. He knew he could reach in his coat and remove his cell, make a quick call or two, and have that answer, but she had asked if there was anything else he needed. There was also the fact that Wilson wanted little to nothing to do with his cell at the moment. And it was a chance to annoy this youth a little more than he already had. A feat that seemed to taste better with each moment that went by.
"Um, allow me a moment to check on that for you." the woman replied returning her attention back to her computer. He could almost see the sarcasm ooze out of her mouth as she spoke. Wilson let out a soft sigh as he waited for the clerk to check on it for him. He could tell that he was starting to grate on her nerves, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. "The average driving time between the two is about four hours or two hundred and twentysomething miles, sir." she offered. It was a bit further than he would have liked, but there was no use in fighting with the woman about checking another departure. He reminded himself that it was also a chance to explore the area, take in some sights. Besides, what was the rush?
"That's a few miles more than I was expecting," Wilson said keeping his voice as level as he could, "but it will have to do." he continued. He would have to locate a rental service near the station, but that was something he had already figured upon. It was simply three hours of more driving that he had anticipated on. "I'll take a single ticket for that train." he said reaching into his wallet and removing his credit card. The woman took his card and processed the ticket, handing it to him with a curt smile. "Thank you." Wilson replied as he left the booth. The woman seemed to have moved on from their conversation as swiftly as it had begun.
As he left the booth Wilson felt a strange vibration rustling in his coat. It took him a moment to realize that it was his cell, which he had switched from ring when he had arrived at the station. Removing it from his coat he checked the name on the caller screen. It was Daniel, Amber's oldest brother, who had been out of town when Wilson called to let him know about his sister. For a moment all he could do was stare at the cell, watching as it danced around in his hand, not sure if he should take the call or not. Wilson knew that Daniel would leave a message if he didn't pick up, but it would mean that the next time he called he would have to deal with his verbal abuse. Questions he wasn't looking forward to answering and trying to explain House. That was something that Wilson would have liked to avoid. At all cost.
Running his right hand through his brunette hair Wilson decided that he would deal with Daniel later. He had other things on his mind right now and couldn't be bothered to deal with someone who called himself a brother, but couldn't find his way to his only sister's funeral. Wilson knew from dealing with dying patients that it was often the closest siblings that took it the hardest when he came in the room to deal the news, but this didn't excuse them for being unavailable when it was time to say their final goodbyes. Replacing the cell back in his coat, Wilson felt around for the small bottle of Valium that he knew wouldn't be there. It didn't stop him from checking, though. The habit was a hard one to break, he reminded himself.
Satisfied that Daniel could wait until he was ready to deal with him, Wilson left the main terminal and found a bench to rest on. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he removed the cell from his coat once again, this time turning it off. He knew that if Cuddy, Thirteen, or Cameron and Chase had tried to reach him that they wouldn't think too much on the fact that his cell was turned off. He was in the process of dealing with his grief and if it was something dire there would be a message or a collection of texts waiting for him when he eventually turned it back on. Once he had shut down the cell, Wilson reached into his bag and removed the Michael Crichton novel he had bought at the local Barnes and Noble the afternoon before. Checking the back of the novel again, he found that he was rather excited to start reading it. A feeling that he had thought he had lost long ago.
There was a soft crackling sound as he opened the novel. It was one of the few small comforts that he could take asylum in; and while he knew that it wasn't the real reason he was in the bookstore the afternoon before he found it strange that he was more excited about reading this single Crichton novel he hadn't read than starting on his healing road. A journey that he believed would bring him closure, at the very least, but there was still a small part of him that didn't buy the thought behind it. He knew that he would eventually find himself in a state of mind when he could take the time it would require to read The Stoic Sage: Coping With Your Grief, but right now he wanted nothing more than to be taken along on an exciting and challenging adventure. One that didn't require the same type of introspection that Dr. Stewart's book would. Crichton's would fill the need for adventure rather well and offer a slight hint of commentary upon his state of being. An added bonus, he figured.
As he read, Wilson had become so involved in the novel that he almost didn't hear the train station's loud speaker calling out that his train had arrived. "Guess it's about that time," he spoke aloud to no one, "amazing novel, Crichton." he continued as he deposited Sphere back in his baggage. Glancing across the terminal to the huge wall clock he saw that it was about six in the evening. He knew that he would be on the train for at least two and a half hours, which meant that he wouldn't be in Mastic Beach until - the earliest - about eight in the evening. He would have to call Andrea and let her know that he wouldn't be able to make it to Schenectady much before the following afternoon. Not that he thought she would mind, but it was always nice to call ahead. A dying fact of life that sometimes troubled the doctor more than he felt it should have. What was the modern world if not built upon the ashes of the old?
Joining the shuffle of bodies through the terminal to the train, he felt like he was heading off to an unknown destination. It was a feeling that had eluded him since he had lost Amber. He welcomed the feeling like he would an old friend he hadn't seen in years. There was a sudden sense that he was on the right track, that taking this train to New York was where he was meant to be. He could feel the grief washing away from him and that strange calm he had felt before coming back. Smiling to himself, he took a seat next to the window. He knew that there was a strong chance that he wouldn't be alone - it was a commuter train, after all - and didn't mind. It wouldn't be so bad having someone to talk to for a bit while he was reading. A nice bit of conversation to help melt away the loneliness that had settled in his core. Perhaps he might even make a new friend, if such a thing were possible at his age.
"Is this seat taken?" a confident female voice asked. Wilson was in the middle of resting his baggage on the seat next to him that he didn't check to see who the woman was. He motioned to her that it wasn't and he listened as she took the seat across from him. "You look kind of familiar," the woman's voice said to him as he located the book, "do I know you from somewhere?" she asked. Wilson sat the novel down beside himself and looked across the cabin to the woman with him. There was a sense of familiarity dawning upon him as well.
As he looked at the woman sitting across from him, her auburn hair resting along the edge of her shoulders and her hazel eyes drilling into him, he couldn't help but share her sense of recognition. He wasn't quite sure where he had seen this woman before, but he knew her. "Yeah," he replied softly as he searched his memories for whom this mysterious female might be, "you do look like someone I've seen before." he said still unsure of who she was. The woman leaned back in her seat, letting out a loud sigh. "Do you have someone who is staying at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital?" he asked, testing the waters. He didn't want to make the woman feel uncomfortable, but she seemed like someone he might have known via a patient; she might even be a former patient of his that he couldn't remember at the moment. The very thought of having forgotten a patient struck him like a pang of guilt. He had taken pride in remembering those he had treated over the years, even if it was for a quick visit or long term engagement. It was what made him one of the best oncologist in the state of New Jersey.
"No," she replied as her hazel eyes continued to drill into him, "but I am a book slave over at the Princeton Barnes and Noble." she offered. Glancing across the cabin to his seat, he saw that she noticed Sphere and a radiant smile drew along her youthful lips. "You're the doctor who lost his woman," she spoke with a soft tone that reflected her sorrow in his situation, "and bought that amazing Michael Crichton novel, Sphere! Kind of obvious, considering you have it sitting on the seat beside you." she said. Wilson looked over to the novel and felt himself flush a small bit. "You also bought that self-help book," she continued, "oh, what was it? The one from Dr. Stewart. God, what was it?" she asked herself. Her fluidity sparked an amused look from Wilson as he fought his memories to recall the name of the book that had sat upon his tongue for so long.
"The Stoic Sage: Coping With Your Grief," Wilson replied assisting the young woman, "and so far I have yet to even crack it open. I was so caught up in this," he continued drawing Sphere closer to himself, "it's an exceptional novel. I can't thank you enough for talking me into it." he offered. The young woman smiled at him and for a moment Wilson felt more at ease than he had been. There was an absolutely disarming quality about this woman. A quality that he wasn't quite sure if he liked or not, but it did offer him the comfort and ease he sought for the journey forward. If nothing else, she would definitely be one of the best options for conversation for two and a half hours.
"That's right," she said with a hint of laughter in her tone, "I'm delighted that you find it as wonderful as I've heard it was. I should score a copy while I'm out this weekend." she said, almost rambling now. Wilson offered her a smile, feeling a warm sensation course through him, "So, what brings you to this wonderful bit of mass transit, Mr…" she inquired. Her voice trailed off as she tried to identify who Wilson was, which reminded him that he had also forgotten the young woman's name as well. Another bout of embarrassment flushed itself through Wilson's cheeks. Silently, he prayed that the young woman didn't notice it. She was bound to ask him about it if she had.
"You can call me James," Wilson said as the young woman crossed her legs and let out a soft sigh, "or Wilson. Most call me Wilson, though." he said rambling. It was unlike him to find himself rambling this much. Taking a long breath he could feel himself becoming a bit tense, his muscles reacting in synchronicity with his thoughts. Wilson cursed himself under his breath for having thrown the bottle of Valium out the window of the car. A mistake that he would have to remedy once he arrived at his destination. One that would require a touch of finesse if he was to do it without trouble. Or stir more attention than he would like to on his...sabbatical.
The young woman looked out the window for a brief moment before returning her attention to Wilson. "James," she said aloud almost as if she was musing, "mind if I call you Jim?" she asked. There was a moment of absolute silence as he tried to decode what she was saying. "I mean, if it's cool with you. I would never call a man something he didn't like being called; hell, I don't even call those bastards I call an ex bad names. Well, beyond the fact that I called 'em bastards just now. Oh, you know what I mean!" she exclaimed studying Wilson. There was something light and brisk about this woman that was slowly becoming infectious.
Wilson mulled over the idea of being called Jim instead of James or Wilson. It had been years since someone called him anything except the formal version of his name. "You know what?" Wilson asked feeling the tension becoming a bit more tolerable, "you sure can. I still don't know what to call you though." he said, making sure to soften the blow of not remembering the young woman's name by allowing her to refer to him as Jim instead of James. At least, for the next two and a half hours or his next visit to the local Barnes and Noble.
The young woman beamed as she shifted her weight in the seat. "Awesome. I'm Evelyn, but you call me Eve. Most do," she replied holding out her hand, "so, Jim where are you heading on this most dreary of days? That is, if you don't mind me asking!" she inquired.
"Mastic Beach, as it were. But, that's where the train is leaving me. I'm sure you knew that, though." he replied. Eve nodded and continued to stare at him with an intense interest that he found difficult to quantify. "The truth of the matter is I'm heading to see a friend of a friend in the heart of Schenectady," he continued as the train started moving, "which is, as I'm told, one hell of a drive from Mastic Beach. Had I known this before I climbed on the train…" he offered allowing his voice to trail off a little. He tried to stifle the chuckle at the simple fact that what he said was almost too absurd to comprehend. A long train ride, another long drive, and all of this to see a friend of a friend? Ridiculous. Even he could tell that.
"I don't know if I would call it 'one hell of a drive'," Eve said watching Wilson, "but it is a long way out." she replied. Wilson let out another sigh and rested his left hand on his temple. "You feeling alright, Jim?" Eve inquired reaching across the seat to her bag. "I have something to take the edge off," she offered as she dug through her bag, "I know it's in here." she mumbled. His mind became more alert as she searched in her bag for that 'something' she mentioned. The most rational aspect of his mind shot this down swiftly and reminded him that he was off the narcotics.
"Oh," he replied watching her now, "I'm fine. Just a headache. Nothing I can't deal with. Thank you, though." he said. Eve rested the bag on the other end of the seat and nodded. "I'll be better as soon as there's some distance between me and Princeton." he mumbled looking out the window. Outside he could see the tree line moving so fast it all became a blur. He wondered if what he said was true. The more distance between himself and the hospital, from Cuddy and House, from his former life would offer him solace? He hoped.
"You know what 'fine' means, don't you?" Eve asked. Wilson wasn't sure what she was driving at, but he knew that she would soon answer her own question no matter his response. In accept defeat he shook his head. "It means, Jim, that you're 'Freaking out', 'Insecure', 'Neurotic', and 'Emotional'." she replied with a smile. He had to admit that the woman did have a logic in her assessment that he hadn't been expecting. It was also something that sounded familiar, like it was from a movie that he hadn't seen in too long, or something a friend from before his time as a doctor might have said.
"You sound like someone I work with," Wilson quipped, "you would like her. So, what brings you out this way?" he asked making small talk. He wanted to move on from discussing Amber and the hospital; he knew that he would soon enough be talking about that with Andrea. It also felt strange speaking to an almost total stranger about his work and his losses. Still, there was something calming and trustworthy about the young woman. And, from time to time, a sympathetic ear was helpful. Even if it was with a stranger.
"I am about to meet the sister I never knew I had," she offered, "which is kind of cool, right? Granted, I don't know how to feel about it. I mean, I've lived the last twenty three years of my life not knowing this woman to have her revealed to me just last week. Kind of like that scene in the movies where someone appears out of the blue and it's all like 'oh, I'm your sister' type thing," Eve said pouring out her heart to him, "but at the same time it's kind of exciting! I have a sister! And I grew up with no one. Just me. All by my lonesome." she nodded. Wilson found himself disarmed. He was worried about talking to her about his lost love and she was pouring herself out about a sister she never knew she had. The compulsion to balance the scale crept up inside of Wilson almost unnoticed.
There was a lull in the conversation as Wilson searched for something to say, trying to find the correct way of saying it without coming out desperate or needy. It seemed to have come out of the blue, her response, and he didn't want to break the woman's spirit by saying something wrong. She had, after all, just laid it out before him. Taking a moment to balance his choices, he decided that the best course of action was to offer a curt smile. "Wow," he said smiling, "that sounds like quite an adventure. What's her name?" he asked. He reminded himself to stick with the small talk and then, if it feels right, explore the issue of Amber. And House.
After a moment of thoughtful consideration Eve laughed, "Her name is Andi. I don't know her full name, though. Just that when we talked on the cell the other day that she wanted me to call her Andi. She seems kind of cool, though." she replied. Wilson couldn't help but feel like the same sounded a bit familiar to him, but he was unsure where he had heard the name before. "So, I'm meeting her in a little coffee café thing on Long Island." she nodded.
"Well, in that case I wish you only the best of luck," Wilson continued to smile at Eve, "it should be a wonderful experience for the both of you." he slid back in his seat, allowing the canvas seat to envelop him. The soft sound of the fabric filled his ears. "Best of luck." he whispered closing his eyes. In that moment he didn't want to share any longer, or read anything else. He wanted to lose himself in his own thoughts. A dangerous option, he reminded himself as he slowly drifted away.
He wasn't sure how long it had been, but he knew that it must have been at least an hour because the sun had set. Glancing around he saw that Eve was reading the novel he had brought with him. His first reaction was to find out when she had taken the novel, but he found it difficult to be upset with her. She had been nothing but honest and open with him. Filling his lungs with oxygen, he held it until he felt the burn from his lungs demanding release, and exhaled. The sound of him exhaling drew Eve's attention.
"You're awake," she said with a smile as she rested his novel on the seat beside her, "I was wondering how long it would be before you returned to the Land of the Living! I hope you don't mind." she said eyeing the novel on her seat. There was a swift shock as the train hit a bad section of the track and a loud crash echoed through the cabins. "Wow, that was a big one." she replied off-hand. Wilson faked a smile and looked over to the novel. It wasn't too often that he found himself in this situation.
"How is it so far?" he asked attempting to make small talk again, "I've only managed to read the first few chapters." he said. Eve shifted her weight and Wilson watched as she considered her answer. "Is it as awesome as the film? I hear it's pretty damn awesome." he said remembering the conversation that the two of them had shared in the aisles of Barnes and Noble.
"Oh, it's much better than the film. Dustin Hoffman has nothing on this," she said with a smirk, "I mean, sure he's cool and all, but the character is so much more fascinating in the novel. Kind of like Sam Neill as Grant in Jurassic Park when you compare it to how it's written in the novel - vast difference - but that isn't to say that the film version is bad." she said rambling. Wilson laughed a bit. "I didn't mean to take it, though. Just saw it sitting there and you were sleeping and I was about to flip through and check it out -" she continued, but Wilson stopped her in the middle of her thought.
"It's no trouble at all," he said waving his hand, "as long as it's being read. I can read more once I'm checked in at the hotel. Who knows? I might even find it in myself to start reading Dr. Stewart's book." he mused. Eve shifted her weight in the seat a second time and crossed her legs. Wilson found himself feeling that old feeling of lust building up within himself, but he knew that it wasn't real. It was the grief talking. Leaning closer, she returned the novel back to him with a smile.
"I don't know," she mused back at him, "but I don't think you're going to find what you're looking for in some self-help book. Sure, it will make you feel better, but in the end what does it leave you with?" she asked. Wilson was taken aback by the sudden philosophical logic she was expounding. "You might feel a bit better now and shit, but in the coming days and weeks? It becomes clear that the hole you filled wasn't filled enough and you need more; you need something else. I'm not trying to tell you that it was a waste of time and money - it wasn't - but if you are looking to overcome this depression…you need to live your life." she said with a tone that inflected the beyond her years logic.
Leaning back in his seat Wilson knew that Evelyn was right. He would never find the answers he was seeking in a novel, film, or the weathered journal entries he had written years before. He would have to search deep within himself to find the resolution that eluded him. Resting the Michael Crichton novel next to himself he looked over to Evelyn for a moment, contemplating a response. "Thank you for the advice, Evelyn." he replied as she settled in across from him. It wasn't much, but then, sometimes it was the simple things that made life worth living, wasn't it?