Beyond the South End

Kendall Merriam

South End Poet

 

This is the first entry in the new guest blog by Kendall Merriam. Kendall writes short stories as well as poetry. Look for more of his work here in the coming months.

 

THE TRAIN

 

For Elzbieta

 

When she appeared in the doorway, he waved, instinctively.  She was so striking that he could not restrain himself.  She was striking even though it had been six days since the invasion from the East and it looked like she had not been able to fix herself or whatever women call their magic in all that time.

     His wave intrigued her so she came slowly across the cattle car floor and asked in a low voice, “Do I know you?”

     “No, but I was hoping to remedy that situation” having no idea what her reaction would be.

     She laughed briefly, “Men never change no matter the situation. Do you have a plush seat for me?”

“Certainly”, he replied, and raked a small bunch of hay beside him into a depressingly inadequate seat.

     She sat down with aplomb as if she was riding in a queen’s carriage and asked him his name.

“Jakub”.

     “I’m Elzbieta”.  There seemed to be no need for last names.

     “You are an officer, “she continued, “What branch?”

“Oh, just an engineer.”

     “Are you going to run the train after our Russian brothers get tired”, she said with a small ironic smile.

     “Oh, no, I was an engineer with the water works in Warsaw.  My uncles all call me the King of the Sewers.”

     “An important job, needed to put out fires. There have been lots of fires in Warsaw.”

     “Yes, lots of fires. I am afraid it will be a long time before everything is put right. And what about you, are you a nurse or a doctor? You must be, all in white and gray.”

     “I’m afraid I am all gray now, yes, I was a nurse’s in a children’s hospital, also in Warsaw. I barely know how I got out. I was told to go to help the children going East but there seem to be none on this train.”

     “”You are married?”

     “Oh, no, I was taking care of my parents, their sole support. I’m told their building was hit directly.  I tried to go there but the doctor in charge refused to let me leave the hospital and a neighbor brought news that they were dead.”

     “My wife and son were living in our apartment when a bomb hit the house next door and it caught fire. They were so afraid of the fire spreading, that they ran out into the street and a fighter came down the street and strafed them. I found their bodies and buried them as best I could but then was ordered East by my commanding officer, so here I am.”

     “And now we only have each other.” She answered with a slight wry smile.

     They talked on, swaying with the movement of the train until she finally went to sleep with her head against his shoulder. Late at night, the train stopped for a “piss” break as their captors called it. The men automatically stayed on the door side and the women went to the other side of the train

     He got back on the train and felt a moment of panic, fearing she would not come back to his car.  But suddenly there she was, with her sweater off even though it was chilly. Her nurse’s uniform was short-sleeved. She sat on his right side this time.

     She asked, “Were you wounded? I noticed that your right sleeve is cut open.”

     “Oh no, I caught it on a door, a steel door. I fear I do not meet regulations.  Perhaps wherever we are going I will get a new one” both knowing that would not be likely.

     As she sat beside him he could feel the warmth of her bare arm against his where his uniform was torn. It seemed more intimate than any sexual act could be and he nearly fainted from anxiety and tiredness, for he knew he would not be able to be with her long.

     They did not talk much, they didn’t need to.

     Suddenly she whispered to him, “I saw you limping slightly, would you like me to massage your ankle, as a nurse I am trained for such things.”

“Alright”.

     She unlaced  his boot and slid it off his sore foot then slipped off his sock and began expertly kneading his foot and ankle, in a medically appropriate way which in this instance was also the most sensuous act of his short life.

     Suddenly, the train shuddered to a halt.  There were cries from the guards, “Officers Out!”

     He hurriedly slipped on his sock and his boot, which she laced up for him. He could see she was crying in the darkness.

     As the doors of the cars at the head of the train were being opened, he took his wedding ring and said, “Give me your hand” and slipped it on her thumb where it fit snugly. “This may buy you a meal somewhere, I no longer have need of it.”

     Then in return, she pressed something into the palm of his hand. It was her nursing pin, “When you want to think of me, just prick yourself with this,” she said, almost sobbing now.

     As the door opened, she kissed his bearded cheek. Then he stood and moved away from her. He paused at the door looked at her and smiled. The Russian guard said, “Out!” and rapped on his sore ankle with his club and he was gone.