Jillian Chantal

Today’s word is Hardy for the Tuesday Tales ladies. I lost my manuscript and freaked out, but finally found it in the recycle bin of my computer. *whew*  I used the prompt in a different way — hopefully, no one else did the same.  🙂

Check out the other tales here.

I staggered toward Martin’s seat as the train rumbled on.

When I got to his side, he’d stopped the rocking back and forth but was still clearly upset. I took hold of his hand. “It’s all right. They’re separated now.”

“I can’t deal with people arguing. I just can’t.”

“That’s perfectly understandable. I’m with you on that. I’d much rather people get along. Drama is not fun.” I was hoping to distract him, but he kept staring at Rashmi.

“How can she treat her son like that?” Martin’s face was still ashen. “He has a problem and she doesn’t care. She’s terrible.”

“That’s not really fair, Martin. All we know is what we see on this train twice a day. We have no idea what all has gone on over the years at their home. She’s always trying to help him into rehab and now, it seems he’s taken off again when she had to work hard to get him admitted.”

“Of course you’d take her side. Women always stick together.”

“Hang on a second, Martin,” Kent said. “Jane’s right. Who knows the whole story except Rashmi and her son? We can’t judge what just happened.”

“Hardy, har, har. Maybe you two can’t, but I can. Anyone who smacks someone else around deserves to be judged. Clearly, the two of you lead sheltered lives.”

“Hardly,” Kent said. He walked away and I was tempted to do the same. This man was our friend we’d been worried about for a long time and now he was acting like we were the villains? Pfft.

“I think you’re wrong, Martin, but we’re all entitled to our opinions.” I shook my head. “I came over here to comfort you as you seemed to be upset, but since you’re fine, I’ll head back to my seat.”

“Yeah, over there by your bum boyfriend.” This man who I thought was meek actually sneered at me. How could I have been so mistaken about him for so long?

This week, the authors of Tuesday Tales have a picture prompt. I am still working on my train story.

Check out the other tales here. We are limited to 300 words this week. 

“Did you pay your fare this time?” Charles asked the bum.

“What’s it to you, mac?” The bum almost spat on the floor, but stopped himself and looked at me. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

“It’s not ma’am. She’s a miss,” Anita said.

“Never been married,” added Rashmi.

And now they were telling this person my personal information? What the heck?

The bum cocked his head and stared at me. “Never married? I can hardly believe that. A looker like you?”

Now this was too much. He had to be making fun of me. I stood so abruptly my bag fell to the floor. Tears pooled in my eyes making it hard to see. In my rush to get to the door of the car and escape, I stumbled over my tote and almost lost my footing.

Kent grabbed my arm. At least I think it was Kent. “Where are you going, Jane?”

“To find another place to sit. I don’t have to take this.” I shook free of him and knelt down to pick up the pen and notepad that fell out of my bag. As I shoved it back in and tried to stand, the train took a corner too fast and knocked me off balance.

Kent lunged to grab hold of one of the blue seats. Before I made contact with the nasty floor, a pair of strong arms scooped me up and back to my abandoned place.

“Don’t know why you’re running off, but I hope it’s not because of me,” the bum said.

I really looked him in the eye for the first time. His strength was way more than I’d expect from a man who I thought was a malnourished elderly street person.

As I focused on him—truly focused—I saw a young man pretending to be a frail older person. Puzzled, I frowned.

This week’s word for the Tuesday Tales brigade is weak.  Week and weak made me giggle.  My story is still set on the train to Boston. A bum came into their car and sat by Jane. He was eventually taken off by law enforcement since he didn’t pay his fare. The other passengers think he was overly friendly to the heroine. After that is where we pick up the story.

Be sure to check out the other tales here

“I’m not sure I’d be thrilled to have someone like that want to be my friend. I bet he smelled much worse up close.”  Rashmi glanced up from the screen of her iPhone and stared at me. “Didn’t he?”

Weirdly, her words made me want to defend the man. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Charles laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You almost choked to death when he sat beside you.”

“He seemed nice enough even though he clearly hasn’t bathed in a while. We don’t know his circumstances so we shouldn’t be judging him.” I didn’t know why I was suddenly changing my mind about the situation. While the man was sitting by me, I wanted nothing more than for him to gone. And now here I was, acting like he was my best friend and needing defending from bullies. In actuality, these people were my friends and not him. What’s wrong with me?

“Now you sound like you’re on some soapbox about homelessness. Where’s this coming from?” Anita asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t have any idea. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Martin said. “Don’t you dare.” He had tears in his eyes and surprised me with the vehemence of his words. The man I always thought was abused was now telling me not to back down?

“Settle down, Martin. No one’s going to hurt the girl. We’re just curious why she’d say the bum wasn’t as rank as we all know he was.” Jonathan leaned back and rested his left arm on the seat beside him. “Anything else to say about it, Jane?”

Stunned yet again as Jonathan wasn’t ever this verbal, I could only sit and stare at the two of them.

Kent stood. “We’re almost to the station. Let’s leave poor Jane alone.”

Before anyone could say anything in response, the train pulled in and came to a stop. The doors opened and everyone grabbed their gear and made their way to the exit. Time to start the workday.

As I stepped onto the platform, I glanced to my left and found the two cops escorting the bum toward the elevators.

Almost as if the man sensed me looking, he turned his head and stared at me with a stern look that made my knees weak and I stumbled over nothing. What have I done to deserve that?

I finished my ghost story and it will come out sometime in October (If I ever decide on a title- 🙂 ) – How can a whole book come together and no title? Beats me!

I’ve started a new story about a group of people who only know each other on their morning and evening commutes. A conversation with my son and daughter-in-law inspired me to work on this one – and believe it or not- it had a title before I started working on it. Crazy, yeah?

Here is the part of the opening chapter where the heroine has been describing the other commuters- and then herself- the word of the week for Tuesday Tales is hardly. If fit right in.

Be sure to check out the other tales here.

Kent is the friendliest of us all. He roams around the carriage chatting to anyone and everyone. He still lives at home with this parents and I think he doesn’t get enough socialization with people his own age. I think he’s twenty-three or four. I can relate to him somewhat as I think he’s never had a girlfriend and I’ve never even dated. Once in a while, he tries to flirt with the girls who want Jonathan’s attention. Sadly, Kent isn’t successful. I think it’s because the women are shallow as they’re only paying attention to looks. Kent is short and balding already, but he’s really full of wit and kindness and deserves a chance. I’ve told him many times there will be a girl for him, but I wonder since there sure hasn’t been a man for me. Of course, he has more going for him than I ever did.

And that leaves me. Jane. Plain old Jane with the sand-colored hair that hangs limply and the freckled face with the nose that’s slightly too big. I was named after my mother’s favorite author, Jane Austen. Like Miss Austen, I’ve never married. Heck, I’ve never even been kissed. A thirty-six year old virgin—who didn’t get asked to prom, didn’t get asked to the burger joint on Friday nights in high school and who missed out on the whole orgy that was my college dorm experience. No one ever crept down the hallway of the coed dorm to come to my room. My friends all talked about this boy or that boy and I just went to classes and got my useless degree.

I might be sad about all that, but I keep it inside and keep moving through my days at my boring job pulling packages for Amazon and getting them to the boxing department to be mailed. It’s a good job, boring but, as someone who hardly anything ever happens to, it’s perfect for me.

Train to work, train home, and in between, I get to take a peek into other people’s lives and imagine their excitement as their purchases reach their front porch and they cut the tape on the box. The ones that order sex toys intrigue me the most. What lives they must lead. Of course, they could be as lonely as me, but I prefer to think they are having a wild time with them.