Page 90 of Leaving the Station
“Now, how do you know that?”
Regardless of what happened or what will happen between us, I don’t want to divulge Oakley’s personal information. So I just say, “She’s doing something I don’t agree with.”
Virginia laughs. “Clint does things I don’t agree with every day!”
“But does he do things that go completely against your core beliefs?”
“Well, no.”
We’re both silent, and I let the train rock me back and forth.
Finally, I say, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, dear.”
“What do you do when you’re done with your train trips?” I ask, and Virginia looks confused, so I keep talking. “These past few days have been some of the best of my life. And it’s all going to be over tomorrow.” Virginia smiles sadly, recognition dawning on her face. “What if the best version of myself was here on the train?”
I was able to keep these feelings at bay for a bit, while I had Oakley to hang out with, but not anymore.
Virginia shifts in her chair and pulls the glasses off entirely. “You know what I think?” she asks, and I shake my head. “I think that you’ll never know who you’ll be, even tomorrow. I’m in myseventiesand I don’t know that. There are going to be incredible and heartbreaking things in my future, if I’m lucky. Probably some of that will happen on this very train.” She smooths the front of her sweater. “I had to learn that the hard way, though. I was a people pleaser for most of my life—constantly worried about what everyone thought of me. So I changed myself for them.”
“You don’t feel that way anymore?” I can’t imagine getting out of that headspace. Of not being worried that I’m going to disappoint every person I’ve ever met or cared about, especially when I’ve already disappointed most of them.
I bought this train ticket so that I could delay that disappointment, with Alden in the East and my parents in the West. But it was a stopgap measure. I didn’t expect to get on the train and find a place full of people I care about.
“Heavens, no!” Virginia says, answering my previous question.Some of the people who are sleeping on the floor nearby stir. “I live for me and me alone.” She leans forward in her seat, pushing a strand of gray hair behind her ear. “Now, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about people. It just means that on the airplane, I put my oxygen mask on before anyone else’s. And I never would’ve done that before.”
The man who stirred on the dirty carpet snores loudly and turns so he’s lying face down.
“All you can do is live right now,” she continues. “And not worry if it’s the best life that you could possibly be living. Maybe it is; maybe it isn’t. But the best life you can live is the one you’re living right now.” She grins. “That’s it. That’s the secret to happiness. Easy as that.”
I don’t know how it couldpossiblybe as easy as that. But the way Virginia said it, it sounds like it could be.
“But what if my life right now sucks?” I ask after a minute. I failed my first semester of college, I failed my parents, I failed Alden.
I definitely failed Oakley.
“That’s the thing,” Virginia says. “Sure, Einstein said all this crap about time being relative, but for my money, it’s not.” I laugh a little at that, and Virginia continues. “There’s nothing you can compare your present moment to. You can’t go thinking, ‘Oh, well, the other year I did this,’ or ‘Next year Virginia can take care of that.’ Right now is all there is.”
“But there’s the past,” I tell her. “There has to be. There are things I did—some really shitty things—that led up to this point.”
“Sure,” she says simply. “But you can’t change them. Not everyone agrees with me,” she continues, “but I have an inkling that your brain is a bit like mine. And thinking this way has helped me.”
I don’t want to dwell on the past, and right now I can’t imagine my future, so maybe she’s right. It makes my head hurt but in a pleasant, tingly way.
“I’m going to try to get some shut-eye,” Virginia tells me. “But knock on my door if you need anything. And don’t worry about waking Clint; he’d sleep through a tornado.”
Before she leaves the car, I say, “Thank you.” It doesn’t feel like enough.
“Of course, dear,” she says, then waves as the door shuts behind her.
I was living in fear of who I was or who I’d become, but maybe that’s been my problem. I’m grieving a version of myself that still exists. I’m moving on before the best part has evenstarted.
And this train ride isn’t over.
There are still twelve hours or so to figure things out. To live in this moment and not move on to the next one. To not live to please my parents or Alden. And especially not Oakley, now that she doesn’t want anything to do with me.
Even if it’s just for half a day, I can live my life for me, whoever that is.
