This story is a fiction influenced by a true story.........
This is my second installament. As always questions or comments are much welcomed but not demanded.
Thanks
The Momentum of Opportunity
Chapter Two
His eyes open upon hearing a painful screech, snapping from his drowsy daze he looks to the back of the train where the noise was coming from. Pressed to the rear seat of the cart was a young woman. Perhaps in her early twenties, her skin the black of molasses outlines herself against the dark orange seats. In her arms she rocks a small child, wrapped in layers of thin blankets. She rocks and cradles the small being hoping to silence his screams but to no avail. You can tell she was only doing what she had seen, perhaps from a friend or a mother. She's only doing what she thought she was supposed to do. The baby's head bobbles vigorously as she shakes and jolts in order to seduce the child in to a deep slumber. If only it was that easy. Somehow something inside him feels for her. He began to imagine her life and her shortcomings, his heart ached as he watched her. Her bags packed to the full, not even a hair pin could've have fit. He does this often, starring at various people and guessing their lives. Mapping out their stories and how they were just too fortunate to appear before his eyes. Oddly enough these stories were never the most pleasant of tales. He would always pick that lonely fellow eating at the fancy restaurant all by himself. Perhaps he missed a date and stays, hoping she'll show up at the last minute with a worthy excuse at hand. Or maybe his wife just passed and he wants to maintain the tradition of eating at their favorite place. Just to keep a part of him alive. As Ocean watches his selected people he's not exactly fond of it, but it makes him care, it allows him feel the compassion, but most importantly it makes him feel less alone.
The woman looks up and catches his eyes, glancing at him from a slither through her thick lashes as if to say "you have no idea what life is like." He knew all too well, not quite as much as rocking babies to sleep but just enough to know that sleeping is not always as voluntary as it seems.
Looking out the window the scenery has changed, night has fallen upon the earth but it was far from dark. The thousands of tiny orange lights flooded his vision, from top to bottom, from east to west. They shine like individual stars of hope granting him a new start, or even forgiveness. He wanted to believe it, though he knew that even those wonderful little lights would eventually fail him. So many times before they shine as bright as they can to show people the way, but like any other lights, these too would eventually burn out.
"Last stop....... Paris"
A tired voice crawls from the back of the cart from the control room.
Ocean almost wished that the conductor would've been the least more excited, it would've certainly helped. The train glided to a rather smooth stop as people began to scurry toward the exits. The baby is quiet now and the woman near the back was first to leave, clutching the child while wrestling with two large suitcases and an oversized cotton bag, she shuffles pass the far too narrow aisle. Ocean jumped to his feet to assist her, almost tripping over himself. Lately he has been experiencing a growth spurt and coordination seems to have been the last of his masteries. The pair of white Addidas's that he wore were two sizes too big which didn't offer much help to his heroism. As he reached for the suitcase, scanning her face for approval, she shot him a quick smile that seemed more like a jerk. With that, she forced her way through the growing crowd and into the corridor of the station, dragging and tugging at the toppling baggage behind her
"Maman, maman, wake up, we're here. We're in Paris." His voice somehow in a shallow whisper.
He shook her shoulders gently and began gathering their belongings, two small suitcases and one large duffel bag. His mother kept her small brown purse at her side.
"Let's wait until the traffic settles for a bit before we go. How was the ride, you still hate trains?"
She faintly smiled a shallow smile that almost made him mirror the expression. He wanted more than anything to move those dormant muscles on his cheeks but he lacked the reasons. To do so would be giving in, letting her know that everything is OK when nothing could be further from the truth. The clogging at the exit seemed to have dispersed; he steps over her legs and pushes toward the corridor. His mother followed but quickly took the lead.
"Are we going to the airport right away?"
"Yes, there's no point in moping around here, we'll just be wasting time and money anyways."
"I want to see the tower, I've never seen it, father would always promise he'll take---"
"Stop talking about your father, he's gone. You need to learn to get over it and let go. Besides, the tower is right outside the station and you'll still get to see it."
The station was dark with dirty tiles lining the ground; it's hard to imagine how they all used to be white at one point. The walls dripped with a milky yellow liquid that seemed to be leaking from every rusty pipe above them. A series of corridors flooded with bodies dashing one way or the other without ever stopping to live. It seemed like everyone was sporting the same long black coat with a grey scarf wrapped simply to push their necks high above the ground and their eyes glancing over the heads of everyone else. It's as if each individual was searching for someone or something amongst the dense crowd. Ocean looked down at his forest green coat; his father gave it to him for his fifteenth birthday nearly a year ago. A thin button up military style coat just up to his belt buckle, barely, it's not exactly a winter coat. He started to grow out of it a couple months back but it still fits. Besides, it also works. His brown corduroy pants were slightly baggy but surely not enough to tempt a nun. His earmuffs are a bit disheveled from the nap on the train, leaving his light brown hair in groups of spontaneous spirals. He felt out of place..... He was out of place. Then again he'd much rather be seeing actual people rather than being forced to gaze at the leaky ceiling for unseen hopes. Besides, what could possibly be so hopeful about a train station bleeding with yellow puss?
As they approached the exit from the train station the circulation of people have been reduced to a trickle. The giant clock on top of the train schedule read eight thirty three P.M. Stepping outside, the cool air mixing with the patented smells of the city was invigorating. He took a deep breath to ease his nerves from the train and dropped the bags at his side to stretch his long arms and let out a yawn of relief. He stopped to watch all the lights flooding the sky along with the busy streets, the scurrying people, and the dozens of vendors selling roasted chestnuts. He found that the smells and sounds of bustling Paris were giving him a spark in his mood.
"Come on Ocean, there's no time for sightseeing; we have to check in at the motel. For god's sake why can't you just be a little sharper? Your mind is always so clouded, that's not a good thing to have in America."
She lightly kicks the suitcases signaling him to pick them up.
The two moved across the stations courtyard and onto the busy street. From the corner of his eyes he spots a large massive steel structure, outlined by thousands of tiny bright lights. The massive object towering over the city with the presence of pure silent beauty gave him a sense overwhelming awe.
"It's beautiful mom, the Eiffel Tower! Look!
His mother turned to look up at the giant steel structure that represented the very face of France. She moved closer to her son and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, almost hoping he wouldn't feel it. She gazed on, tracing the lights around the base all the way to the top until they grouped together and was no longer visible.
"It's amazing seeing it in person huh?"
"Yes it is honey," her voice a mere whisper with faint traces serenity. "Its magnificent mon cherri, it really is."
Realizing her hand resting on his shoulder he turned his head towards her. He hasn't remembered the last time he hugged his mother but this feeling was close enough. Scared to move, he remained as still as possible trying to soak up the sensation as much as he could. He stares in silence and embraces the scene for all its worth. He's trying to snap this picture in his mind and store it away where he could later retrieve it whenever he wanted. After all, this could be the last time he will see the Eiffel Tower again.
"Come on its late, the streets here can get nasty at night. The last thing we need is our money stolen.
With that she quickly brushed by him, leaving a breeze strong enough to flutter the few strands of hair that flickered on his forehead. He picked up the bags and followed down a dark street that would lead to the 13th arrondiismant. He didn't look back.