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Episode 21: The Family Guy

Jack climbed the stairs of the 5:40 commuter, scanning the rows for an available seat. To his surprise, he discovered an open row. Even better. He liked a window seat.

Jack usually took the 6:18 commuter: A much busier train. Finding an open seat was always a challenge on the 6:18. The ladies with their corpulent bags were fascists when it came to accommodating a boarding rider. Men fiddling with laptops were junkyard dogs guarding their precious elbow room.

Using the handholds to steady himself as the train slowly made speed, Jack worked his way to the empty row. He caught a quick glimpse of a woman’s shoe, cradling a woman’s foot: fancy, a slipper really. White with gold embroidery. Middle Eastern design, or maybe Indian. Jack wasn’t much for telling the differences with these types of things.

Easing into his seat, he caught the eye of the owner of the shoe, and the dainty foot that filled it. It was a dark-haired girl, maybe twenty-two, definitely exotic. She had dark eyes, full lips, and dark skin. Only a slightly protruding nose looked out of place. But youth went a long way to excuse small flaws. She was, Jack surmised, very attractive.

Next to her sat a young guy: clean cut, sandy brown hair, short-sleeved check-pattern dress shirt, nice watch with a loose band. Maybe twenty-five. Maybe a little older. “Snarky,” Jack thought as he looked him over. Self satisfied. Plenty self satisfied.

It wasn’t obvious that they were in love, but there was no doubt about lust.

From the moment Jack took his seat and slid over to the window, the couple went at it. Kissing, tongues writhing, hands roaming freely, as if his entry was their cue.

“For God’s sake,” Jack rolled his eyes, thinking to himself, “get a room already.”

The young guy stuck his tongue in Exotic’s ear. Jack pulled out a book and tried to read.

But it couldn’t be done. Despite his best efforts to traverse the first few sentences on the page, he found himself continually looking up at the couple. In disgust, to be sure, but also out of vague titillation. Whatever the reason, the young lady seemed to take such diverted glances as encouragement. Upping the ante, she stuck her tongue out, flat and snake-like, and traced the outside of the young man’s lips.

It went on like this for three stops: Jackson, Collins, Orange Hill. Were these two aspiring soap opera idols regulars? Did they do this every day? Just what kind of a train was the 5:40 anyway?

Jack dropped the book into his lap and looked out the window at the passing sights.

Finally, one stop before Jack’s, the young lady stood and with a final lustful exchange, departed the train, leaving the Snark sitting by himself, and Jack relieved. He went back to his book and again tried to read, while the the Snark cooed into his cell phone.

“I miss you too baby,” he crooned. “Mhmmm… I can’t wait.”

It wouldn’t end. They weren’t apart three minutes and they were already ramping up for phone sex. Jack rolled his eyes and stuffed his paperback into his bag. His stop was approaching.

Glad to be free of the unsolicited display of… whatever that was, Jack lurched toward the stairs and around to the sliding doors of the passenger car as the commuter squealed to a shuddering stop.

Stepping deftly onto the platform, he strolled toward the parking lot where expectant people awaited the unloading passengers. This was one of Jack’s favorite parts of taking the train. Something about it was different than any other means of public transportation. Even getting off from your daily commute felt like an event, and the people waiting to greet the riders as they disembarked only added to the atmosphere. Hugs were exchanged, smiles were in abundance. It was a true homecoming every time for those who had someone to meet them there.

As if taking a cue from his thoughts, an attractive young lady waved at a disembarking passenger behind him. An infant on one hip and a freckled youngster by her side, they smiled broadly with recognition as the young boy raced past Jack, arms outstretched.

“Daddeeeee…!”

Jack turned in time to see a clean cut young man bend down and sweep the boy up in his arms. The boy’s sandy brown hair matched his father’s, and as they passed Jack and the young man greeted his wife with a kiss, he could see that it was none other than the Snark; check pattern dress shirt, watch, and all. Jack stopped in his tracks, slack-jawed.

It occurred to Jack at that moment to stop and accost the family. To spoil the secret the young man had so boldly flaunted back on the train.

“Do you realize that your husband is having a torrid affair with an exotic railroad mistress?” He imagined himself accusing. “Do you know how foolish you all look?”

But what would it get him? A broken nose, probably. And the satisfaction of having destroyed a perfectly happy family — or at least the illusion of one. Jack knew there was no satisfaction to be found in such an act. He shook his head, fumbled in his trouser pocket for his car keys and started again toward the parking lot and his empty sedan.