Memories

By Olivia Crawford

Jodie looked out the frosted glass of the train, whipping past the dark forest surrounding them. She rested her head on the chilled window and wrapped her sweatshirt closer around her, her knees tucked close to her chest and Converse perched on the edge of the seat. The train was relatively quiet, and an attendant silently walked along the aisle, checking to see if anyone needed assistance. The seats were sparsely occupied, and the soft glow of the lights created a dim atmosphere. The seat beside her was empty, and so were the rest of the seats around her. The train gently swayed. There was a slight smell of snow and must. The attendant reached her row, and Jodie returned her gaze to the outside world. The treeline suddenly stopped, and they were upon a bridge, overlooking the valley below the large mountain to their right. Darkness encapsulated the night, with only a few visible stars through the overcast sky and frosty glass. As soon as the view had come, it was gone again, replaced by the whipped branches of the evergreens shaking as the train went by. Jodie’s head slowly dropped, and her eyes fluttered, but a jolt shook her awake again. Her backpack had slid from under her chair, so she stretched and put her legs down, grabbing her backpack. It was worn and old, with a pin on the front of it and a tag on the inside reading “Ellie.” She hadn't exactly stolen it, not exactly. Jodie pushed some blond wisps in front of her face that had escaped from braids behind her ears. She shifted in her seat, and unzipped the bag. Inside was a wrapped up piece of mint candy, a change of clothes, a flashlight, and a couple rolls of film. Jodie zipped the backpack up again. She sighed, and looked towards the window once more. She didn't want to fall asleep again; they were almost there. Her eyes wandered around the car; the tops of a few heads sitting a couple rows ahead of her could be seen. She slowly got up, stretching her legs and arms, yawning. She hadn't gotten up for twelve hours straight. The train still rocked back and forth, and Jodie had to stand still to regain her balance for a moment. She reached down and grabbed her backpack, slinging it onto one shoulder, then slipping her right arm through as well. She walked to the left, passing a few people along the way. Ellie, Ellie. Her mind wandered. Her best friend was Ellie. They met in the sixth grade, right as they both had moved to Bridgitires Boarding School.

The door at the end of the aisle adorned a frosted window. Peering through, Jodie could see the sleeper car, all the doors to the rooms neatly organized side by side. She stepped through and walked past them. A large window to her right didn't give much of a view, only the white, snowy banks of the mountain to their right. Jodie had been sent to boarding school when she was eleven because of her erratic behavior and horrible grades. Her school requested that she be sent out of the country, away from the rest of her peers who she could negatively affect. Her parents at first would not budge, but after many late nights on their part and hushed conversations, it had been decided; she would be sent to Bridgetires Boarding School. Jodie started as a door to her left opened, and a man stumbled out, racing to the next car door, and slamming it shut. There was some yelling, and then the voices became too distant to decipher. She walked on, through the door the man ran through. This sleeper car was awake, each door slightly cracked open, with a head or two popped out and swerving from side to side, trying to see what all the commotion was about. She kept her head down. The carpet was a nice burgundy, with intricate patterns in black and grey. Ellie had been the first person to greet her when she got on the train to Bridgetires. The coach car had been crowded and noisy, so Jodie had decided to sit as far back as she could. She didn't say goodbye to her family and had a blank stare on her face. She had fully callused her heart and was going to make the next years at Bridgetires the worst for everyone. Then, Ellie sat next to Jodie.

“Well hello there, who are you? You're shivering frightfully hard; here, my jacket is big enough for the both of us, come on, there. Better?”

“I'm fine thanks.” Jodie had shrugged off the fur jacket, and pulled her knees to her chest, staring out the window. She looked down at the carpet lining the inside of the coach car, a nice, burgundy color, entwined with grey and black threads.

Jodie entered the next car, a coach, with many more people than her coach at the back of the train. The voices rose and fell, like the swaying of the train. No one turned to look at her when she walked in, each one too occupied.

Ellie had been unshaken by Jodie’s coldness. The noise around them from the other students couldn't drown her voice out, and for the whole train ride, over the plains, up the mountains, through forests, till after dusk and when the train got quiet, Ellie had kept talking. And, for some reason, Jodie hadn’t minded. She may have been trying to run from her feelings, too; she just had a different way of showing it. Jodie, by silence; Ellie, by excitement.

Jodie made it to the dining car. Pushing the door open, she looked around at the people. Not many were in it, just a few for a midnight meal. The man whom she had seen run out of his room was sitting at the bar, his head collapsed in his hands, and a few attendants were standing around him. Whispers drifted around the room but were hushed when a sob came from the man.

Ellie had told Jodie about when her mother died; she sobbed for days. She had lived in France with her mother ever since she was young and had rarely ever seen her father since they divorced a year after she was born. Her father sent her to boarding school so she wouldn't have to live with him. Of course, Ellie had only told Jodie about this years after they met. And through the years, they became inseparable, Ellie correcting Jodie when she acted out, and Jodie teaching Ellie to stand up for herself. And eventually, Bridgetire became their true home.

Jodie jolted to the right as the train shook and she was shaken out of her trance. She put her hands out to regain her feet. The chandeliers swayed from side to side, and everyone grabbed their food from dropping. The gold accents on the ceiling flashed with the moving reflections of the lights. The door in front of her opened to reveal a Business car, and three children raced through, squealing and yelling at each other, slamming into the next door and scaring the passengers in the sleeper car who were already riled up. Jodie smiled and walked into the Business car. Those were the best years of her life, living in Bridgetire, which was housed in a large castle-like building, a perfect playground for curious students.

The observation car was ahead of her, and the window showed it to be mostly empty. She left the loud cars behind, and closed the door, muffling the noise. To her left, the bar attendant nodded to her, and she nodded back. The seats were empty, and Jodie climbed the stairs to the upper level. Two weeks ago, Ellie had disappeared. The night before, she had talked of how much she was excited for--the holidays and annual feast held after finals, the winter dance--everything was normal. Jodie had gone off to take her last final, and when she got back to her room, Ellie was gone. It was as if she was never there. The headmaster informed Jodie later that day that Ellie was taken home due to a family emergency. Jodie remembered that night, the night before Ellie left. They had climbed up to the top of the roof, and stared up at the stars, talking and dreaming of their futures. Now Jodie climbed up to the top of the observation car, staring up at the stars through the glass roof. Alone. Coming home for the first time in eight years. And she would never return to Bridgetire. Ellie had left one thing, her backpack, at the base of her bed. The train rounded a corner, and a shining town came into view, nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains. She remembered her young years in this town, her happiness and joy every Christmas, opening billions of presents to add to her ever filling room. She remembered the Christmases at Bridgetires. But the first one was especially memorable. Ellie had come up to her after all the other presents had been opened, and handed her a small box. Inside were two identical pins, each stating “pour toujours”. They both took one and promised to never lose it. Jodie sat in a seat overlooking the valley and town, which was getting ever closer. She fingered the pin on her bag. Maybe her family didn't actually want to see her. Maybe they would think she hadn't changed. Maybe she hadn't. Her mind pulled her in a million different directions at once, and all she wanted to do was to just let go and give in to the crack running down her heart, and let it shatter into a million pieces. Where was her home? Half her heart was still at a place she would never see again, and a fiber still attached her to someone she could never see again. There were so many regrets, so many tears, so many laughs she missed. She never wanted to forget, but she knew no one would understand, no one but those who had experienced it with her. And even then, no one knew how much of an impact they had on her. And as much as she wanted to come home, she wanted to live at Bridgetires, and stay comfortable in a place she knew. To live in the inbetween. And after all the years, her heart had slowly begun to soften, in a way. And as the stars above Jodie danced, and the moon slowly lowered on the horizon of Christmas morning, the callus around Jodie’s heart cracked, all the words she wished she’d said, all the words she wished to say, all the memories that were captured in the film and all the memories forgotten overflowed out of their bondage, hidden deep inside Jodie. And a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Jodie stepped off the train onto the platform, a layer of snow blanketing the ground. She began the walk to her house, still memorized after all the years. Slowing as she rounded the final corner, her house came into view. Just as festive as all the other houses in her small town, the lights outlined the roof, and each window hosted a candle. The sky got blurry, and Jodie had to stop in the middle of her cul de sac. She heard a door slam and excited voices, and her body started shaking, as her whole family, her sisters, brothers, mom, dad, and grandparents came rushing out of the house and enveloped her in a huge hug. She was home.

Ellie sat in the large black car as it pulled off the main road. She looked out into the densely wooded forest, as the driver slowed the car in front of a huge gate, slowly opening. A few snowflakes fell outside the window as the black gate silently swung open, and the car drove through. The gate closed again behind her. The sky was grey, a blanket of clouds covering the bright blue sky she was used to seeing in France and at Bridgetires. She picked her cuticles, and she fidgeted in her seat as they drove through the winding forest. Then the road veered out of the trees and onto magnificent cliffs overlooking the restless sea. To her right, the tall grass stretched on, waving in the wind. An estate appeared on an overhang ahead of them, and they were suddenly surrounded by lush gardens, or what could be. It was all shriveled up and cold now. The car pulled into a roundabout, and suddenly stopped. The car door opened, and Ellie hesitantly stepped out, pulling on her jacket. The car drove away as she stood there, a miniature figurine in front of the massive double doors. She fingered a pin in the pocket of her jacket. Her suitcases stood next to her, both looking up at the gorgeous disaster of a mansion, all her emotions at the surface, once again. But she stayed strong, just like Jodie had taught her. She would be strong. Her old life, a memory, her new one, a memory waiting to happen.

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