A Train Ride to Bristol; A Love Story Jake was ill. Hung-over and regretting the excesses from the previous evenings’ Jim Beam, Jake sat in an empty train carriage wondering if there was a toilet somewhere on board. He kept his eyes closed as the train began to move, its rumbling stirring his stomach and the early morning sun burned into his eyes as it flicked through the sycamore trees growing along the embankment. At some point the resolve and aspirin would start to kick, but until then he’d have to put up with the splitting pain in the front of his head. Jake scratched his head, aware that he was unwashed and greasy. His hair was dank, still wet from where he’d managed to put his head in a bowl of cold water in some attempt at cleanliness. Jake knew he’d regret not getting properly washed when he reached his destination, Bristol. However, that was about six hours away, and three separate trains including the nightmarish London underground. The thought of the underground made Jake slip a third aspirin in his throat and wash it down with lucozade. There was not a hope in hell of trying to negotiate thousands of people in his current state; he had to wait for the pain killers to kick in. Trying to sit as quietly as possible Jake’s mind wandered to the previous evening; Jake was sitting on a deck chair. It had been a small social gathering in the neat back garden of Trisha and Carl, a forty-something childless couple who should have really split up years ago. All the guests had left, apart from Jake, who sat on a deck chair. Trisha had her feet on his lap; Carl had gone to bed, bloated from bar-b-qued meat and lager. ‘Who the hell is this bloke?’ Trisha mused inwardly to himself, ‘he’s just drank and entire bottle of bloody Jim beam and is still just about managing to hold down a conversation’. Trisha often mused over Jake. During the bland love-making she had to endure from her husband, her mind wandered too often to Jake, a scruffy, long-haired student who could wash more. There was just something about him, whether it was pheromones or some deep biological urge to have viable sperm from a man who was also blatantly strong and fit. Her bare feet were on his lap, she looked at them and unconsciously her eyes wandered to his crotch. She caught herself doing this. “So, “ Trisha began, adverting her eyes back to Jake’s face. “Why are you putting so much effort into trying to get back with Susie?” Jake smiled to himself and breathed in heavily. It was no secret that there was an unwritten hatred between Susie and Trisha. No-one really knew why, some clash of personalities? Or probably the fact that the only two people who did not know about Trisha’s hankerings for Jake where Jake and Carl. Trisha had always seen Susie as a fat, miserable and ugly thirty-something who bullied Jake and generally made things shitty for him. “I,” began Jake, slurring even one syllable words, “I kinda love her.” He’d been with Susie three years. Two weeks ago she announced she was leaving and had decided to move back to Bristol Trisha just could not understand how come Jake would be so doting on Susie, and she was happy to just stare at him, irrespective of how drunk he was, and how inaudible his ramblings about Susie were. Occasionally he lapsed into talking about the negative aspects of his recently ex-relationship, but mostly he tried to big up what he considered to be her few positive points. At some point during the hazy memory Jake remembered he had sucked Trisha’s toes. Slightly odd, but he brought his head down and had flicked his tongue between her toes. The reality of Jake’s drunken stupor was that he had imagined going down on Trisha, imagining kissing her vagina, sucking gently at her clitoris and licking..... a finger on his head stopped him. Looking up he saw a pair of warm and humoured eyes. Trisha was smiling at him, looking longingly at him. “I think it’s’ home time, Jake.” She smiled and helped Jake to the door, watching him as he pin-balled up the quiet road. On the train, the painkillers where slowly beginning to work, Jake was able to fall asleep. When Jake stirred from his sleep he was aware of very little. He heard his phone ringing and automatically began fumbling in his jacket for it. The scene wasn’t right. There was glass, the carriage wasn’t level. Through a smoky haze he saw the lifeless body of an old lady covered in glass and small flecks of blood. “Hello,” he croaked into the phone, his mind not fully aware of the situation. “Jake, Jake!” came the slightly panicked voice of Susie “there’s been an accident on the news, a crash in London, are you okay, Jake? Jake?” As the situation began to reveal itself to Jake he became aware of his legs being crushed in the mangled carriage. There was a fire spreading towards him. Susie’s voice was lost to him, and he cut her off, leaving Susie with a blank dialling tone. It took little time to realise that he was well and truly trapped with no hope of freeing himself. His phone kept ringing, every time Susie’s name kept coming up, and every time he didn’t notice. Jake felt a strange calm spread over him as the flames began to incinerate the body of the old lady, only then did he notice his ringing phone. Susie’s name flashing at him. Again he cut her off, and instead flicked through his phone book until he found the name he wanted; ‘Trisha Mobile’, and rang it. The phone was answered almost immediately. “Hello Jake, how are you this morning?” Trisha’s voice was bright and lively. His name had come up on her phone and she was happy to see it. Jake really heard her voice for the first time, realised just how bright and happy it was, specifically happy to be speaking to him, something he had never experienced from Susie. Jake managed three words before he hung up to face his fate of being burnt alive. He said “I Love you.”
Posted on: Tue, 30 Jul 2013 09:54:41 +0000