The Railroad Read Free Page A

where they were.
    “I guess it was for the best,” I said, a smirk covering my true feelings. “You wanted to leave and you’d moved on to someone else.”
    “The painter? Oh god. What a mistake that was. He was a big pothead and a waste of time. So were the next couple of guys. It seems like I don’t have such a wonderful track record since I left you. I guess I didn’t know when I had a good thing.
    “We weren’t ready.”
    “Maybe.”
    *
    She hefted the envelope, hours later, beside her minivan. I’d had her wait in the bank lobby while I got the money, not wanting her to see what I was doing. “This is what $2000 feels like?” she said when she took the envelope from me. “It seems a little heavier.” She eyed me suspiciously.
    “Try ten.”
    “I knew it. Shit, Mike. I can’t take this!”
    “You can. You need it.”
    “Mike, No.”
    “Take the money. You might be on the road for a while.”
    “No…I can’t.”
    “I won’t feel right if you don’t take it. It could take you a while to get in touch with those people.” Those people. It didn’t sound very reassuring. I wished I could help her, but I had nowhere I could send her.
    She began crying again and, this time, so did her daughter. I hugged them both, urging them toward the van, just to get it over with. To my surprise, Maria returned the hug and I think I saw something like hope in her eyes.
    Elena looked back once as she started to drive off. I read a thousand things in her face, wistful thoughts of what might have been. But mostly I saw fear.
    *
    It's so easy to fall back into a meaningless existence, even when a train wreck like Elena's life touches you. For a moment you see a larger measure of reality, but then it's gone.                                                                          I suppose that moment of reality just made me want to go back into my safe world all the more. Unlike Elena, I didn’t have to wonder what would happen to me; I had all my bases covered. I had earned my place in the sun and didn’t have to dwell on what had happened to an old girlfriend.
    It was three months after I watched Elena drive away that things went off the tracks. I was feeling special then, having just finished one of the biggest software conversions ever to grace Crabtree and Dain. The new software was already beginning to pay off in the form of greater speed and better reporting. We were finding holes in our operation that could conceivably save us millions. I was feeling my oats.
    I’d gone out the night before to celebrate with some people at the office. I’d gotten drunk and acted silly and even shared a kiss with Debbie Baum, the director of HR. She’d been an object of serious lust for a couple of years and now I knew that she, at least, shared my feelings. What would happen in the light of day was a different matter entirely.
    As I sat there in Michael’s, I basked in the glory of my new status. I’d just finished my fifth martini when my boss pulled me aside and hinted at my being rewarded for what I’d done. It was thinly veiled code, telling me that I’d get a raise and probably a promotion to an officer spot. While he spoke, some of the other techs at my level were looking at me strangely, like I’d become another person. The entire world seemed open to me.
    As I walked back to our long table, people began clapping me on the back, saying things like, “I hope you’ll still be talking to me in a couple of weeks”. I smiled, trying to be gracious, but feeling superior against my better judgment. Like most brokerage firms, Crabtree and Dain was mindlessly competitive. Not only did you have to come up with decent ideas, but you had to traverse the shark infested waters of corporate business, fighting detractors and getting buy-in on your ideas from frightened upper level management. After years of stress and anxiety, I felt like I wanted