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Speak to a Stranger

Lisa Gray

    “Shut Up!”
    I did. But I was fuming. Why did Matt always have to speak to strangers? This was America. And we were standing on a deserted railway platform at an unearthly time of the morning. Wackos were around. The world was a dangerous place. And Matt treated it as if everyone was his long lost buddy. Yet that’s what had attracted me to him a year ago. His openness. His friendliness.
    But not here. Not with this man. The only man on the platform.
    “Howdy! You going far!” the man had said.
    I took one look at him and turned away. The wild, unkempt hair, the round neck, stained, navy tee-shirt under the open, dirty, denim shirt. The crumpled blue jeans. There was no way I was speaking to him.
    But Matt felt differently.
    “Boston,” said Matt, edging closer to the man.
    “Me too,” said the man.
    Damn! I thought. What if he followed us?
    “Train not going all the way!”
    “What do you mean?” said Matt.
    “We got to take a bus from Swampscott.”
    “A bus!”
    I hadn’t meant to talk to him. But he’d taken me by surprise.
    “Yep!”
    I was about to say more. But the train arrived. Matt and I climbed the unfamiliar stairs and entered the car.
    I cursed as I saw the long bench-type seats. I resisted the impulse to slide over to the window as I normally would have done. There was no way I was leaving space for the man to sit down beside us. I moved halfway along the bench and waited for Matt to take his place beside me. But as he did, the man slid into a seat across the aisle from him.
    I dug my elbow in Matt’s side.
    “What?” he said.
    “Don’t speak to him!” I said in an inaudible tone.
    “Don’t tell me what to do!” said Matt.
    “Well, you can’t speak to people here. It’s not like back home! It’s not safe!”
    I turned my head towards the window and gazed out blankly. Remembering the Boston Strangler.
    Avoid eye contact. That was the way to do it. Matt had only to do the same.
    But Matt didn’t. When I looked round, he was chatting across the aisle to the man as though he’d known him for years. Though I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
    Damn! What was wrong with him?
    Did he want to get us mugged? Or murdered?
    I never spoke to strangers when I travelled.
    But then maybe that was my problem.
    I’d told myself it was for self-preservation. Who was I kidding? I was shy. Lacked confidence. Was frightened of everything. Until Matt came along.
    I hadn’t even spoken to Matt. He’d spoken to me. That was how we’d met.
    But then Matt spoke to everyone. I found that out later.
    I’m just jealous, I thought. Jealous of Matt’s popularity. And popular he was. With men. With women. With this guy.
    Positive Matt with his friendly outward demeanour. And negative me worrying about everything. Always prepared for the worst scenario. That’s why I’d taken out the big insurance policy.
    “You’ve got to be careful when you travel,” I’d told Matt. And Matt had agreed with me.
    But then Matt agreed with everything. He’d agreed I’d keep my own name and my own money when we married six months ago. And he’d agreed to this holiday. Though I’d paid for it. Agreeable Matt. Too agreeable, I thought, glancing at his face, fixed firmly on his travelling buddy.
    “Swampscott!”
    The guard’s voice bellowed out as he made his way down the car and out the door at the end of the car.
    I stood up and motioned to Matt to move towards the door. If we were quick we would leave the queer guy behind. I reached the door of the car. I could see the guard’s face framed like a glass portrait facing me.
    And in his hand a key.
    What the hell does he need a key for? I thought.
    His hand turned the key in the car door.
    I turned to Matt.
    “He’s locked us in!” I said, panic all over my face. “What’s he done that for?”
    “Probably for safety,” said Matt.
    But I was already imagining an accident. And us trapped in the car. Unable to get out.
    “That’s dangerous!” I said.
    “Life’s dangerous, ma’am!” said a voice behind Matt.
    Oh God, the queer guy was right behind Matt.
    But Matt didn’t seem bothered.
    The train came to a stop and the guard turned the key in the car door.
    I made my way down on to the platform and lingered there waiting for Matt. I saw the queer guy get off and hurry off with the other passengers after a woman calling the way to the Boston buses. A little way ahead of us he boarded the first of two buses.
    “Get on the back bus!” I said to Matt.
    “Why the hell are you always telling me what to do?” he said.
    “Because we want to avoid that guy!” I said, angry that he couldn’t see danger.
    “He’s harmless!” said Matt.
    “How do you know?” I said. “He could be a mass murderer!”
    Matt laughed. A hollow, dull laugh.
    “I don’t think so,” he said. As if he knew more than me.
    My eyes never left the bus in front for the whole journey to North Station. I even waited for the bus in front to close its doors before I motioned quickly for Matt to descend.
    “Quick. There’s a cab over there. Let’s get it!” I said.
    I pulled him over to it and thrust him in.
    “Where to?” said the driver.
    “CambridgeSide Galleria,” I said.
    We’d be safe in a mall. Among lots of people.
    It was mid-afternoon before I spotted him. Matt and I had had lunch after a tiring morning’s shopping. I hadn’t done any. But Matt had. He always did. On himself. I didn’t normally resent it. But this time was different. It was my birthday. Why was Matt spending on himself?
    “What about my birthday present?” I said as Matt returned for the third time to look at an Armani watch he had been obsessing about all morning.
    “You’ll get that later,” he said roughly.
    I turned away so he couldn’t see the tears that threatened to well up.
    That’s when I saw him.
    He’d pulled back into the doorway of a clothes store. But the faded, dirty blue jeans stuck out there even more.
    “It’s that queer guy from the train!” I said to Matt, quite forgetting how upset I was with him.
    Ben looked round annoyed I’d distracted him.
    “So what?” he said.
    He didn’t seem surprised.
    “I told you not to speak to him! He’s followed us here!”
    “So?”
    “So we’ve got to lose him!”
    But we didn’t.
    We tried. We spent the rest of the day trying.
    But he seemed to be everywhere.
    “Let’s get out of here!” I said, aware the day was growing old and we had to get back for the last train. “It’s the only way we’ll lose him!”
    We shouldn’t have left it so late. I realised that when I saw the empty station.
    “You folks travelling to Swampscott?” said the man at the enquiries desk. “You’ve got to take the bus. Follow me.”
    I looked around. There was no sign of anyone. They must be on the bus already, I thought. Well, at least we’d be safe there. With people around.
    I could stop worrying.
    But the bus was empty.
    At least we’ll be safe, I thought.
    Just Matt and me.
    But just as the bus doors were closing he jumped on.
    “You travelling to Swampscott?” he said, waving his wild hair about. “Well, how do you like that?”
    Matt smiled. He didn’t seem worried. But I was. Why was this guy following us?
    “We gotta take the train from there.”
    His short sentences were beginning to worry me.
    I couldn’t imagine what he and Matt had found to talk about earlier.
    The guy seemed a one sentence moron to me.
    Well at least we were safe for the moment. The guy wouldn’t attempt anything with the bus driver here. Then there’d be people on the train. People travelling from Swampscott.
    But the train was empty.
    The queer guy got in the car and sat down.
    “I’m not going in there!” I said to Matt, as the train moved off. “It’s too dangerous!”
    There was a funny look on Matt’s face.
    “I’ll speak to him,” said Matt. “Maybe I can get him to switch cars!”
    “Don’t go in there, Matt!” I said. “Let’s get the guard!”
    But Matt had already gone into the car.
    I closed the door behind him and stood looking through the glass. Should I call the guard?
    I saw Matt’s mouth moving. And then the queer guy’s. Surly. Turned down at the corner. Then I saw him reach under his shirt.
    “No!” I screamed as I saw the fire-arm.
    But Matt had seen it too. He grabbed hold of it and wrestled with the man, the gun waving at first wildly in the air and then disappearing desperately out of sight.
    Even through the car window I heard the bang.
    “Matt!” I screamed, opening the car door and rushing in.
    One man crumpled.
    But it wasn’t Matt.
    “Oh, thank heaven!” I said, throwing my arms around him. “I told you he was dangerous! Let’s get out of here!”
    “No, you stay here! I’ll get the guard!”
    “Don’t leave me here, Matt!” I said but Matt had already gone. The car door slammed ominously behind him.
    What if the guy wasn’t dead? I thought.
    I leant over him foolishly.
    A hand reached up and grabbed me by the neck.
    “You gotta get out of here!” he said in a strangled voice.
    I tried to pull his hand off my throat.
    “F.B.I. He knows we’ve been following him. He’s wanted for the murder of his previous two wives. Get out of here!” he said his hand slackening its grip on my throat and falling to his side.
    The guy’s a wacko, I thought.
    But he was right about one thing. I had to get out of there. I had to get the guard.
    He was right there. Standing behind the glass of the car door with the key in his hand. Thank God! I wanted to cry out. Lock the car door! Let me out then lock the car door!
    But as I reached the door that I realised it wasn’t the guard. He was lying in his underwear on the floor outside the car. It was Matt. Matt dressed in the guard’s uniform. The car door opened slowly and Matt stood there grinning, the gun pointed directly at me.
    “You were right. America’s not safe. The guy was a wacko. He attacked you and the guard. I wrestled with him and the gun went off. You were right. It’s not like back home. It’s better. Easier. You made it easy for me. I’ll claim self-defence. I’ll get off. And I’ll claim the insurance.”
    He raised the gun and pointed it directly at me.
    “Happy Birthday!” he said.
    It was then I realised. Realised where I’d gone wrong. What I should have done a long time ago. And what everyone should do.
    Always speak to a stranger.

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