53 Ganymede

Episode 25 - Mourning

The train lurches away from the platform and Claire can feel its growing distance tug at her chest. She remains on the platform, staring after it, even after its serpentine form diminishes along the track and is finally devoured by the busy urban horizon. She misses her Granny already — she always misses her, but today the absence aches like a bad tooth and she finds herself wishing she had hugged her just a moment longer before they had said goodbye. Claire shivers, the warmth of that final embrace stolen by the frigid midwinter air. Still she stands and waits, watching other trains arrive and depart, other passengers hugging their loved ones in reunion and in farewell. Claire wonders how many will never see each other again, and she waits for a sense of closure as the cold settles deeper into her bones and the bright afternoon sun assaults her already stinging eyes.

The sun, fierce for such a cold day, offends Claire; it mocks her dark clothing and the black emptiness spreading from her chest to the tips of her fingers. For once, Claire longs for Newport clouds and the seemingly ever-present rain that often accompanies them. Why does the city have to fail her today of all days? Claire sighs and retreats to the heavy shadows of the old station building and the subway platforms below.

Though she's painfully aware of the glassy redness of her eyes, Claire is grateful for the anonymous bustle of the subway. Here she doesn't have to think about where she is going next, doesn't have to find the will to move forward — instead she surrenders herself to the jostling wave of bodies that push and pull her into the nearest subway car and then falls into the first empty seat she finds. And yet, as she watches the lights flicker to life on the map above the car door, each one closer to her own stop, she feels a tension grow within her, a building paralysis and fear that she knows she will have to overcome.

But not now. Not yet.

A woman's voice announces her station over the intercom but Claire remains seated. Her shoulders ache as their muscles clench, but then the doors close and the station quickly vanishes behind her. She exhales a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, and her shoulders droop in a relief she hadn't known she'd needed. Two stations later she slips through the doors onto an unfamiliar platform and lets the crowd carry her to an underground station and beyond that a lively strip of underground shops and restaurants. Festive lights still adorn many of the shop fronts competing for attention with the bold post-holiday SALE signs and, though she doesn't feel particularly inclined to shop, Claire drifts through many of the stores, wrapping the novelty of the unfamiliar surroundings around her like a warm blanket. Here, in this moment, she can hold the present at arm's length. Here she can forget about the farewells she's just made and the ones that still await her.

Until she goes home.

Until then.

She places a book she had been perusing back onto the shelf, unable to recall the title even after re-reading it several times. Unwanted thoughts are stubbornly slipping past her defenses, and so she looks for other distractions.

Food usually makes her feel better, so she follows the directions indicated on the black and white signs depicting a fork and knife. It's an odd time of day — too late for lunch and early for dinner — so most of the seats in the food court are empty. The few people sitting within the square perimeter of fast food stalls wear business clothes and sip at tall coffees or pick idly at a donut or muffin while they fiddle with their phones. Some of the office buildings she can see from her bedroom windows must be above these tunnels, Claire realizes. She chews her lip at the thought of 53 Ganymede and tries to distract herself by inspecting the glowing menus behind the stalls. Hamburgers, donuts, sushi, gyros... nothing appeals to her. After walking the perimeter twice, she sighs and continues on down the strip of shops, glancing from time to time through the windows before moving on.