LatinosUSA

Allen Hassan sat on the hard, wooden bench. It had to be the holiday season. The underground train station was packed. He recognized the eager shoppers versus the daily commuters. Each group in its own world, yet heading in the same direction.

He let out a huge sigh. His thoughts raced once more to his family. The family he lost long ago. His family. If only he could go back in time. He would have changed so many things. If only he could have stopped himself from turning to greed. The lies. The selfishness. The pain and agony he inflicted on his wife and son. The anguish he caused those he cheated. If only.

Allen bowed his head. Loneliness twisted and turned inside his empty gut. The torment of his tarnished soul inched throughout his being. And then the ultimate betrayal. His accidental death that was ruled a suicide. 

“It was an accident!” shouted Allen. He jumped to his feet. His head thrown back in rage. Arms raised to the heavens above. “It was an accident…please, please forgive me,” he whispered. His tears had dried up long ago.

Allen could remember that night as if it were yesterday. He did not see the ragged strip of metal as he hurried across the worn cement platform, eager to board the Valley View Express. And yet in one fateful decision, his life ended in tragedy.

The whistle sound of the Valley View Express echoed against the brick concave walls. Steam rose from the tracks below. People moved in and out of the sliding transit doors, all heading in the same direction.

No one heard Allen’s cries asking for forgiveness. Or the longing for mercy of absolution for the sins he had committed. No one.

The holiday shoppers and commuters did not give him a parting glance. In fact, no one could see him. 

Sometimes he whispered in the ears of those who looked defeated. Of those who thought the unthinkable. He tried to tell them. Focus on the good things in life, not the bad. Treat people with kindness and respect, even if it is not returned. Keep hope alive. And no matter the circumstances, never lose faith.

Allen knew all too well. He shunned the goodness inside. Instead, he listened to the evil that walked beside him. Weakness to do wrong was his enviable excuse.

The subway crowds had thinned. An older woman sat down on the bench just a few feet away. She turned and smiled at Allen.

Allen forced a grin, knowing the old lady could not see him. He had come to terms long ago with the suffering and atonement for his earthly crimes and the straying from righteousness.

And that is why Allen lost all conception of time. The only hint came from watching the commuters come and go. He was destined to remain underground with the trains. Unless, by the grace of the heavens above, he was forgiven and able to move on to the next part of his journey.

The ground rumbled from the approaching train. The last few stragglers entered the opening doors.

The old woman sat humming. She did not get up to catch the last train. Allen stared at her wrinkled skin. A tiny hat sat on her thinned, short, white hair. He noticed the worn fabric of her coat. Her gnarled hands sat in her lap.

Allen wondered how he would have looked if he had gotten the chance to grow old with his wife. Become a doting grandfather to his son’s children. And now he would never know because he flushed his dreams, goals, and his life down a toilet. All for the love of money.

“Jingle Bells, my grandchildren’s favorite song. I loved spending time with them, especially during the holidays.” She continued to hum.

It took him a second to realize either that the old woman was talking to herself or that she was speaking to him.

“Can you see me?” He whispered.

Her head bobbed with the humming. She stopped and turned to face him. A tiny smile crawled across the wrinkled skin.

“Yes, Allen. I can not only see you but also hear you. My name is Agnes.” She began to hum once again.

Allen did not trust his ears. How long he had prayed for someone to talk to, and now this aged grandma sat an arm’s length away.

“I don’t understand.” He stared at the stranger.

“Self-pity is destructive and an easy suit to put on, Allen. But humility and penance…well, that’s a whole new outfit.” She glanced at him. “Sorry for the metaphors, I was a seamstress in my past life.”

“You’re dead?” He blinked.

“In medical terms…yes.” She hummed another Christmas song.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled. The lights in the subway flickered. Allen’s head drew back at the sight of a train as it came to a stop. He knew the trains had stopped for the night. Hissing noises filled the air.

Agnes got up. The side doors of the train opened. She began to walk, then stopped abruptly.

“Are you coming?” she asked over her shoulder. Allen stood up.

“I can’t. I’ve tried before. It brings me back here each time.” He plopped back down and hung his head.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time. Allen, are you coming with me?” He let out a sigh.

Seconds later, he stood by the old woman’s side.

They both walked in silence. Once inside the empty train, Allen helped Agnes to the cushioned bench.

“Who are you, Agnes? A guardian angel?” He studied the old woman.

She shrugged her sagging shoulders. “You could say that. Sometimes, Allen, it’s not about the destination, but the journey.”

“Where are we heading, Agnes?” He sat down next to her.

“It depends.” And with that said, the doors swished closed. Swirling white mist surrounded the train as it moved slowly toward the bright light in the distance.