I glance at my watch for the 7th time in the last minute as I race to try and catch my train to my parents house. My jacket whips around my waist and my suitcase rattles behind me, barely keeping up with my gangly legs when I push through a crowd. The magnificent beast of a train appears before me, the doors about to close.

“WAIT WAIT!” I scream, hoping that somehow someone will hear me and magically stop the train. A child waves from a window ignoring my obvious distress.

I make the final bounds to the train and slip through the doors at the last minute. Quickly opening the door of a compartment and entering it, I shove my suitcase and backpack onto the shelf above and finally collapse into my seat.

In my hurry to sit in my seat I failed to notice the girl sitting across from me. An inquisitive look now appears on her face as I huff and puff, still out of breath from my desperate sprint to the train. She continues to stare at me after I gain control of my heartbeat. I’m starting to feel a bit awkward when she asks, “Are you going to be okay then?”
“I believe so,” I reply, sitting up straighter. She gives me a small smile and I fully look at her for the first time since getting on the train. She wears a white t-shirt under her grey hoodie and jeans and her dark hair falls in waves to about her shoulder blades. It is now tucked behind her ear, revealing the freckles splashed across her pale face and her round brown eyes. She is average in height and is soft around the edges, one curve leading to another.
I hold out my hand and introduce myself, “Emory.”
“Take a guess,” she replies.
I’m not usually good with unexpected things and respond with, “Uh, give me a hint?”
She looks out the window at the landscape rolling by, pondering for a moment and turns back to me, saying with a mischievous grin, “It starts with J.”
“May I have a moment to think about it?”
“Take all the time you need,” she replies, looking back towards the window.
I must admit I'm shocked by the nerve of this girl, making me guess her name, and it must be contagious because before I give my answer I ask her, “So, what are you here for?”
She glances at me, her eyebrows knitting together, “A bit of an existential question, don't you think?”
“I mean here as in the train,” I reply, grinning.
She faces me now, and says quite bluntly, “I'm just here for the journey not the destination.”
Her response sounds like something my grandmother would say. I assume she must be joking and reply sarcastically, “That’s a wise thing to say.”
“My parents call me and old soul, but I think I just pay attention,” she quips back.
Both our gazes return to the window and we don't talk for the rest of the ride.
As we reach the station I start to grab my things but she continues to sit. When the train comes to a full stop she's still just sitting there, watching me get up to leave. “You're really just here for the ride?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies, “maybe I’ll see you on another train. I’m on them often.”
“But, I don't even know your name.”
“Shame,” she says, the mischievous grin returning to her face.
? ? ?
I step into the same compartment I always do, hoping to see her in the same seat she was two months ago. Today must be one of those strange days again because there she is, same hoodie, different shirt. She smiles wide, recognition crossing her face, when she spots me. The first thing she says is, “Figured out my name yet?”
I laugh and reply, “Jamie?”
“Nope.”
“Huh, let me think about it some more.”
“Take all the time you need.”
Music plays softly over the speakers on the train and the song Jolene by Dolly Parton starts to play. We look at each other and this time the mischievous smile is on my face when she says, “If my parents named me after a Dolly Parton song my name would no longer be Jolene.”
We both laugh and settle into a comfortable silence. Again the train stops at the station and I get off, wishing there was more to say.
? ? ?
The next time I see her is four months later, same compartment, same seat, same hoodie, except for one rather noticeable difference. “You’re pregnant?” stumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Her head whips from the window to me and realizing who I am smiles and says, “I’m surrogating for my sister,” she laughs when she goes on to say, “it's about the journey remember?”
I barely register her reference to our former interaction as I sit down across from her and am struck by how different our lives are. These interactions we have are really just blips on each other's time lines. Time doesn't stop in between the moments we see one another and this really hits me for some reason. I don't even know this woman’s name and yet I’m upset that she didn't tell me she was pregnant, like she would have been able to reach me anyway. This must show on my face for she asks me, “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, I just… yeah.”
“You sure?” concern crosses her face.
“Yeah, sorry.” I know I’m being stupid, this woman is still a stranger to me, but I can't help it. I don’t even know her and here I am angry with her because I want to know her. It’s a strange feeling when you want to know and understand someone you've only seen twice.
She continues to look at me with a worried expression as we sit in uncomfortable silence until we reach the station.
? ? ?
A month passes until I see her again and this time I'm ready. I know what I'm going to say to her when I see that grey hoodie except when I actually step into the compartment and see her there the words I had planned fly out of my brain.
I sit down in the seat I always do and look at her. Her eyes are closed as the sun shines through the window and hits her face. She must not have heard me come in for she stays like that, her hands in her lap and her head tilted towards the sun. She's different somehow, withdrawn.
She opens her eyes and watches me watch her. We stay like that while the train starts to move and the landscape blurs by outside the window. She doesn't talk for a long time until she says quietly, “I lost the baby.” I'm not sure how to respond so I don't.
I cross over to the seat next to her and put my arm around her. She rests her head on my shoulder and we lapse into more silence, the sun now hitting both of us.
After a while I decide to say part of what I had planned to, “I think about you a lot in between these train rides.”
A small smile crosses her face, but fails to reach her eyes when she replies, “A Plain Jane like me?”
I chuckle into her hair, “More like Calamity Jane... your name is Jane, isn't it?”
Jane smiles and responds, “Yes, it is.”
I feel like I’m starting to understand her when I ask, “Would you ever consider getting off this train with me, Jane?”
She laughs, some of her mischief returning, and says, “Yes, I would… consider it that is.”
“Funny.”
“I try.”
And we sit like that till we get to the station, the sun shining its warmth onto both of us, my arm around her shoulder. It’s not a romantic moment, nor do I expect it to be. I’m simply here for her and I think that's enough for both of us.
All too soon I see the station approaching and the sun starts to disappear behind a cloud.
I start to get up from my seat when she says my name quietly, “Hey Emory?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’d like to get off the train this time.”