He left me a letter at the back of the book I was reading. We spent three days together, mostly reading each others books and at times we would join in conversation. He told me about his new job in San Francisco and why he was leaving the country side. To be honest, he didn’t look like a man who would fit in anywhere. He had a country boy smile, but his eyes longed for something more, something meaningful.
Dear Catherine, he used my full name, although we spoke of one another as Kate and no, not Leopold, but Jeff (Jefferson). He wrote the whole letter himself, his handwriting wasn’t the best, so it took me a while to decipher what he wrote.
This was perhaps the best weekend of my life. That was such a cliche, meeting a girl on a train and making small conversation, reading her deepest desires and then just like in the movies give her a sign that you might like her. Anyway, he wrote that he wished he could ride along for a little while longer, but he couldn’t. Other obligations… He ended the letter with perhaps an overused phrase, Yours truly Jefferson. P.S. I might take you upon that offer. Hope to see you somewhere where fate might grant us another chance.
At the station, I waved him goodbye. At that point I haven’t read the letter yet and if I did, I wouldn’t change one thing. For me, he was a companion for the lonesome train ride. Nothing more. Nothing less.
He kissed my cheek, like almost lovers would. I smiled, what else could I do? He climbed off the train, and I waved mouthing the words “Goodbye Sir”. No name, just sir. He was and probably will stay an acquaintance, someone I met briefly on a train to nowhere…