|
Order this writing in the collection book Layers of Creation available for only 1795 |
 |
| |
This appears in a pre-2010 issue
|
|
|
|
| ||
On a New York subway
Benjamin Green
Hhhiiiiissss. Air hissed out of the airbrakes like dragon’s breath. Steel wheels screeched on the rail as the subway train came to a stop. The doors flew open, and people began pushing to get in or get out.
Eldon Miller pushed his way past a sea of sharp elbows, and cursing passengers. He ignored them all. None of it was personal. Inside, a smile lit up his face.
Sitting in one seat was Norma Britt. She was intent on her knitting, until he cleared his throat. She looked up, and her face brightened up. “Why hello, Eldon!” She gestured with an elbow. “Sit down, sit down!”
He looked around, but nobody moved to take the seat. So he sat down as she began bubbling like a teakettle. Eldon was a recent transplant from Missouri, and he had been looking to go back home.
He didn’t care for the hectic pace of New York City, and the subway system as a lousy place to meet people. He didn’t go out unless he had a reason, because he’d heard so many hair-raising stories of what happened on the streets. Consequently, he hadn’t met many people.
He had been counting the days until he could go back to Missouri. Until he met Norma. Now, he was still looking forward to going home, but she made his time in exile more bearable.
They would discuss everything under the sun, and there were no sacred cows. Sometimes, they found themselves on the opposite sides of an issue, but she was such a sweet old lady that he found himself unable to stay mad at her. He would kibitz with her until his stop came up.
The next day, Eldon wasn’t as pacific as he usually was in the crowd on the platform. He snarled at people a couple of times, and came close to completely losing his temper. People looked at him as if to ask what his problem was.
A dark cloud had been hanging over him all day. He didn’t have a clue what it was about, but he had a nagging sense that everything was about to change. Plus, he’d had a rough day at the office, and he was looking forward to getting back to his apartment. Just lock the door, and shut the insanity out.
Inside the car, Norma was waiting for him. As usual, the seat next to her was empty. What was different was she had a book in her hands, rather than her knitting. It was a book about the supernatural.
Eldon looked at the book, and sneered. Norma arched an eyebrow, and asked, “Is something the matter?”
He nodded toward the book, and asked, “Do you actually believe in that nonsense?”
“Do you?”
That started an argument that grew more heated by the minute. Their fellow passengers began watching with increasing interest. He was aware he was creating a scene, but he couldn’t help himself.
At last, he stated, “There is no scientific evidence that ghosts or other so-called ‘supernatural’ events occur. If somebody could show me some empirical evidence to the contrary, I might change my tune.”
Norma’s lips pursed, and her eyebrows lowered in challenge. “Oh, really? What about the field of parapsychology?”
He made a rude noise, and waved his hand, as if brushing away a bothersome fly. “I said real science. Parapsychologists tend to be either crackpots, or wishful dreamers, with only a patina of scientific objectivity.”
She peered him in the eye. “So you don’t believe in ghosts?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “There is no evidence for them, no.”
She asked, “Are you sure?” Then she disappeared.
