04 Oct--Birthday

Characters:

Jamie
Ami
Extras

Setting: The train station

On a normal day, Jamie and Ami drive from their small state home in Titahi Bay to the local train station. On calm, clear days, the sunlight hitting the hills makes Jamie think of giant elephant knees, all contour and wrinkle. Although the speed limit is 70km along this stretch of bay road, he tends to ease back; tries to visually store a few more moments before rounding the corner and losing sight of it all. Yet, once at the station, he can stand on the platform, look north, and spot the same hills folded into themselves like unmade bedclothes.

The sight makes him feel content—more than content, it makes him happy. So happy that he’s stopped thinking of himself as a writer because, he tells himself, who writes about good moods? A writer needs dark horizons and despair. A writer needs a catalyst, needs winter, needs to know there is no way out but to scribble words onto a page. I’ll get there again one day, he consoles, but for now I’ll just enjoy myself. The north island sun peeks over the hill, causing Jamie to squint. As he fumbles for his sunglasses he notices the train approaching.

A crowd gathers at the edge of the platform. When a potential seat on an overcrowded train is in question, commuters resort to subtle tactics in order to position themselves closer to the train doors. Most simply pretend not to notice anyone else and shoulder their way forward, but there are a handful worth noting. There is the woman who, just as the train stops, pretends to trip forward, thus shoving closer to the door. Or the man who “knows someone” closer to the front of the crowd—once he pushes closer, he discovers, to his great surprise, that it was a stranger. He apologises.

And then there is The Nose.

Jamie first noticed her when the rail staff went on strike and Tranz Metro decided to run a reduced service to reduce stress on the rails (“to reduce stress on the rails”, Jamie thought at the time, would go inside double quotes if he ever wrote about it). She appeared to be in her early 40s and always wore the same white sneakers and generic backpack over a brown, camel hair trench coat. But it was her nose that commanded his attention (Jamie thought of the old cartoon caricatures of W.C. Fields, how the nose rather than the person was the character). Her means of getting a seat was more of a trick than a tactic, and one Jamie still couldn’t figure out: The Nose could teleport.

At least that was the only explanation Jamie was able to come up with. He watched her once. When the train pulls into the station, she squints. Her mouth opens slightly, and she tilts her head back. Shuffling her sneakered feet she pushes closer, but always seems to be at the back of the crowd. Once on the train, however, Jamie sees she’s sitting. She’s found a seat. She’s always found a seat, seemingly there before she ever boarded. Once Jamie made a mental note of the hipster in headphones in front of The Nose before she boarded. When he got on the train (standing, as usual), he saw the hipster still outside, yet the The Nose was on the train, sitting. The Nose always sits.

On a normal day these things happen. But today should not be a normal day, Jamie thinks. Today is my birthday, and a momentous occasion. I am 29 years old, he reminds himself. But getting older, he soon discovers, causes celebrations to spread apart, distancing themselves from one another like stars in an ever-expanding universe.