“What happens if you get on the train?” she said.
I shrugged. “We’ll never see each other again.”
She nodded and fell silent. I did the same.
“Do you ever blame yourself or feel shame for
the things you did in your past?” the woman asked.
“All the time,” I replied. “In fact, that’s pretty
much all I think about – the things I did wrong.
I was watching The Shawshank Redemption the
other day and Morgan Freeman was telling
the parole board he didn’t give a shit if
he stayed in prison or not. He just wanted
to go back and try to talk sense to himself.
I had to walk out of the room when I heard
that. I feel the exact same way he did. I
was an idiot. I still am, but I’m less
of one now. What about you? How do you feel
about life and what you’ve done until today?”
The woman frowned, but said nothing. I nodded.
“Thought so,” I said. The train whistle blew once more.
We made eye contact. She took a deep breath. So
did I. “One more time,” I said. “Should I stay or
should I go? I know you have a life here and
I’m not trying to interrupt your world or
anything. If you tell me to leave I will,
but I don’t really have anything to go
back to, you know? You asked me before if I
could love you. Yes. Of course. The real question is…”