Cling On!

 I clambered up the stairs, and once past the sliding doors, 

was on the hunt for a window seat. Fortunately, at my 

stop the car offered a few spots and I dropped into a seat 

on the left that faced forward.  I hated sitting backwards.

           I opened my book to the dog-eared page and 

returned to medieval Wales.   

          Rose bent into the wind, watchful 

of the hastening dark.  Her servant, Elisa, 

tried to keep pace with her, but carried their 

scant belongings in a cumbersome bag. 

She struggled to pull an ass with no interest

 in pushing forth.  They followed a bend in the road and were surprised to find…

          An electronic voice drilled into riders that the last destination was the Ogilvie Transportation Center and the name of the next stop.  Whaddya know, we're already in the city.  “If you see something, say something,” was the last of a rather ominous message.  I opened my eyes wide and gave the train car a quick look. No obvious concerns, but you never know. The alerts, though tedious, were good reminders of the shared ride.  The last message said we’d arrive in Jefferson Park in four minutes.  I checked my watch; it was a good day, the train was right on schedule.

            I returned to page 27. 

            Out of the shadows three men on tall steeds emerged from the gloom of the forest.  Elisa, ancient one, sucked in her breath and put a calming hand over her heart.  Rose gathered her scarf around her neck, nodding to her frightened servant. The two women, unseen in the dark corner of the mule’s lean-to shelter, strained to listen to the low talk of the finely dressed travelers.

            Laughter, amplified in the tinny entryway, was heard first, then followed by a giddy three-some. Women, bundled up to their eyeballs, stumbled into the car. They pawed at the jump seats, closest to the door, yanked them down, then one after the other, sat down hard as the cushions wheezed.  Their overstuffed, screen printed totes and backpacks gave them away.  Schoolteachers.

            “Maggie, honestly, how’d you ever leave the house not knowing?  Lucky for you we’ve plenty of time before we get to Ogilvie.  You, woman, are fortunate to have friends like us! Otherwise you would’ve walked into school clueless!  Picture the school paper headlines; Hi-larity in Mrs. Hill’s 5th Grade Class.”

            “Oh, yeah.  I’m so lucky to have such sweet friends! You haven’t stopped laughing at me since you got off the bus at Jefferson Park!”

            “Listen, honey,” the last woman started, then pushed her fur-trimmed hood back while twisting sideways to face her fellow teacher, "thank your lucky stars for your two faithful friends."  Her bag was stenciled Mrs. Portal.  As she spoke, she picked at the Maggie woman’s coat.  I smiled ever so slightly as I watched her pinch a sock off the other’s shoulder, next she peeled a dryer sheet from under her coat’s collar.  “Tell me everything. What happened now? You threw your coat into the dryer this morning because it was soaked after shoveling snow?”

            “You heard me right,” Maggie said, giggling.  “It feels like a wool coat, but it’s some kind of fleecy blend.  I was shoveling snow for twenty minutes this morning and figured I’d dry it out a little.  I didn’t want to wear a damp coat all day.  I threw it in the dryer, totally forgetting about the other stuff, “she explained exasperated.  “Paulette, Marge, you’ve got to help me! Do you see anymore errant laundry?”

            Paulette, the brunette and Marge the dark blond were thrown into another fit of laughter.

            “Maggie, happy to help you!” Paulette managed to say.  “Better stand up and turn around, “she suggested.  Marge stood behind Maggie and brushed the back of her coat.  She picked off a knit glove, a black nylon knee sock, and short plaid scarf clinging to the hem of Maggie's beige cloth coat.  She peeked into her hood.  “I think you’re good, hon.  Now you can walk into the building with confidence.”

            I noticed other heads turning as the women spoke to each other. They weren’t exactly using their inside voices.  I tried to return to the forest and those dark strangers, but the story unfolding right in front of me was too intriguing. 

            Maggie, Paulette and Marge plunked into their seats again as Maggie stuffed her collection of clothes into her navy schoolbag.  “I will never live this one down.  Static cling is real!” she announced and fooled with the ties on her brimmed hat.  “I noticed the cotton sock as I walked to the bus today, but I never dreamed pieces were stuck all up and down the back of my coat until I found you two. Oh my God, how silly,” she said as a laugh escaped. She leaned into her friend, Paulette, who in turn patted Maggie’s knee.

            “We won’t tell Principal Tyler until after lunch; that’s when he really needs a good har-har-har,” Marge said.

            “Or never!” said Maggie. She picked at her coat again, “he never has to know. He’d flip. I don’t need anything more on my permanent record, right, girls?”

            I scanned the page in front of me, but nothing registered.  Subdued, the friends talked now in hushed tones and I heard, beyond my book, their muffled laughter.  Following my finger on the page, I made one last stab at the chapter’s end.

            Capes billowed as the three horsemen dismounted and stepped towards the stand of trees opposite the hiding place of two watchful women.  Elise, wringing her hands, squeeled, “Oh, dear m’lady, what shall we dooo?” Her attempt at a whisper failed and heads turned. 

            Rose sighed as the men advanced.  “Elise…now what have you done, my addlepated one?” she asked, her voice barely audible, a determined smile in place.  She wrapped her arm around soft shoulders…

            “Attention commuters, the train will be arriving in Ogilvie Transportation Center in four minutes.” The message aired a second time.

            How can that be, I thought.  The hour flew. 

            I whispered goodbye to the middle ages and closed my book, shoving it in my bag.  I looked up to find the teachers already at the head of the line.  Marge pushed the pad and the doors slid open. 

            As I took my turn and walked to the front of the car I heard a whoop, through the window saw Maggie’s face turn bright crimson.

            “Oh my God!” she screeched, dangling a brilliant pink striped surprise on the end of her gloved finger. “It’s Bethany’s thong!”

            I pushed through the doors to join the lively trio and a clutch of amused commuters.

            Maggie looked right at me as she shoved this little bit into her pocket. “My daughter’s going to crown me!”

            “I won’t tell,” I said, assuring this woman who’d unknowingly made the start of my day.  “Just remember where you put that thing and don’t look for your glove at recess,” I said smiling. 

            We stepped down and off the train as Maggie worked to add something new to her school bag.