writing-prompt-s:
An old woman will arrive at the station at 2:47 AM, she will not have enough money to pay the fare, let her in anyway. She will then board an unscheduled train at 3:00 AM. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TURN HER AWAY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
It was either a joke or some train executive’s wife, that’s what I thought when my manager gave me those specific instructions.
He proceeded to stress them again three more times during orientation. No biggie, I figured, and set a reminder on my phone for 2:45 just to be safe. Other than that I was just shown how to work the ticketing machine and where to find the spare D Batteries for the ancient flashlight they provided me with.
At 11:50 PM the last scheduled train departed. By 00:20 AM all the disembarked passengers had milled off. There was only one other person at the platform, a young homeless man missing a leg. Probably a veteran of one war or the other, there had been so many recently. He was sleeping on one of the benches. My manager had said I was to politely urge any passengers remaining after midnight to leave. He did not seem like a passenger so I let him sleep. It is how I was raised.
At 2:45 AM my alarm went off. I put aside my book, made sure my booth was tidy in case the executive’s wife or mother or whoever would come was going to inspect it.
At 2:47 AM she was there.
I did not hear a car, nor approaching footsteps. The Babusia was simply there when she had not been before. A heavily wrinkled old woman, with a crooked nose and a scarf tied around her brittle-looking grey hair. A knobbly wooden walking stick was held by an equally knobbly left hand. She did not seem like the mother of some rich rail tycoon. She reminded me of my grandmother.
But I had never met my grandmother.
“One ticket, please.” she requested in a firm voice, placing a small handful of coins on the counter without looking up at me. Most of the coins were obsolete Kopeks, and even counting those it was not enough for half a ticket, but as I was told before I nodded my head and accepted her money. “Of course. ”
It suddenly occured to me that I was not told how to print a ticket for this unscheduled train. Before I could remark about it, I saw that the ticket was already at the mouth of the machine. It was green, with red lettering, something the black-and-white printer should not have made. But yet it did. The printing seemed in cyrillic of some sort, but I could not read it.
“Your ticket.” I presented, and without thinking added “Do you require assistance to climb the platform stairs, grandmother?” It is how I was raised.
“Yes. Assist me.” she replied curtly, beginning to shuffle slowly through the dark station towards the platform. I locked up my booth, and caught up with her just before the stairs. I switched on my heavy flashlight with my right hand, and offered the woman my right to brace herself. Her grip was strong. She probably would have had no issue climbing by herself, but assisting a grandmother was always the right thing to do, even when her sharp fingernails dug painfully into my palm.
We arrived at the platform. The clock hanging from the ceiling read 2:56. She released my hand and took a few steps, then looked at the sleeping man on the bench. “A friend of yours?” she asked. I thought about lying; if she was truly an executive’s family, perhaps hosting a friend would be a lighter offense than turning a blind eye?
“No, grandmother.” I responded truthfully. “He is not breaking the rules, so I left him alone.” It is how I was raised.
The woman hummed. She seemed taller than before. Taller than me. The night draped her shoulders like a shaul and my torch did not reach it. Her gray hair shone like woven starlight, and her eyes were the night sky. I could not look away.
“You are a well-mannered girl.” she said, her voice echoing in my ears like silence. She placed something small and hard in my hand.
A train arrived. It had only one car. I think it had a steam engine. It may have walked on chicken legs. I could not look at it.
The Grandmother boarded her train without another word. I was alone in a perfectly dull train station. Almost. The homeless woman behind me mumbled and stretched her legs in her sleep.
In my hand was a wrapped piece of hard candy.
