Why Did You Leave Me?

Paula limped to the bathroom in her uptown apartment, trying to put the least amount of pressure possible on her left foot, which was suffocating in the sweaty boot. She was grateful this was the worst of her injuries, and scared as to why that is all she suffered. An hour later Paula was dressed in a modest business skirt and blouse combination. She hobbled out of her building and hailed a cab. The ride to work seemed longer than usual, even though she typically took the subway which was double the time. Paula imagined walking back into her department, everyone staring and wondering why she needed an entire month to recuperate. She had never taken time off for anything let alone physical and mental recovery. The back of her neck tickled as the cab slowed to stop at a red light. Paula tried to ignore it but the longer she did, the worse it got. Looking out the window, she caught her own reflection and for a few seconds spotted an older man with grey hair sitting next to her. He had sat across from her on the train, next to a young woman who she assumed was his daughter. They both had striking blue eyes and beautiful tans. He had checked on her a few times while she dozed throughout the train ride. Paula quickly straightened in her seat and examined the other side of the cab, reassuring herself she was alone. Finally, she rubbed the feeling away in her neck, sensing how tense and knotted her muscles were. Surviving a train wreck could do that to a person. ​ Paula sat there wondering if her neck shouldn’t be broken too. And her shoulders, her arms, her torso. How did she make it? Nobody knew, and her therapist warned her not to focus on those thoughts: they’d only make her go down a dark path that would be much harder to recover from. Once at work, Paula was greeted by everybody with a sympathetic smile, even from the security officer stationed on the ground floor and the mailman who she had fantasized about but never looked twice at her. News spread fast in this place. At first Paula felt supported, but by the tenth cocked head and sad smile she mostly felt pathetic. Paula was a 53-year-old woman dragging her bum leg around an insurance claims floor, trying to look the upper management part she so easily played before being injured. Paula was thankful she had a job to come back to. Luckily, she had been at the company for over a decade and had some favors to pull. It also helped that she was the lone survivor of a major train crash and could be manipulated into the insurance company’s new poster woman for both health and life insurance. She decided to jump right into work, helping Tom, a second career softie who struggled putting clients in their place, especially when they asked for a manager. Then she greeted her old crew, the ones who had been there just as long as she had but were never promoted, leaving them as underpaid experts in the insurance field. “Big boss is back!” shouted Sheila with a slightly sarcastic tone, another middle-aged woman who could’ve been doing Paula’s job but was instead stuck with the newbies who were younger than her children. “Happy to see you, Paula.” Marc added, not looking up from his computer screen. “It really is good to see you’re doing well,” Sue reassured as she elbowed Marc, “and if you need anything just let us know.” “Thank you, Sue. I appreciate that.” Paula glanced at their work stations, noticing Marc had failed to cover the gossip magazine they clearly saved since their boss was the main feature. The headline read, “Miracle on the Train? Lone Survivor in Devastating Crash”. Of course, Paula had already seen this paper and many others from the day after the crash happened. All the major news articles went into detail about the drunk truck driver who slammed into the train, causing it to derail. One interviewed the engineer’s wife who was assured he did everything he could before he perished. Most articles displayed the names and ages of all 73 passengers that died either on impact or from injuries. But this trashy columnist talked about Paula. Where she was from, what she did for a living, her failed marriage, her nasty divorce, her bankruptcy, her huge promotion at the insurance company only a few months before the crash. It even questioned what she was doing on the train that day. At first, she thought the author was making her out to be a villain. Like she crashed her own car into the train. Or she somehow could’ve saved someone. Her therapist told her this too was a ludicrous and dangerous way of thinking. Guilt was a heavy burden to bear, and Paula felt like she was carrying around an extra 73 pounds. You’re not alone. Why did you leave her? You’re not alone. echoed in Paula’s ears as if two people were whispering on both sides of her body. She snapped herself out of the negativity and hyper focused on the task at hand: managing the customer service claims floor. The whole time she was talking to Sheila, Marc, and Sue, she was also listening to a young woman on the other side of the room who she assumed was a new hire. The poor girl kept asking the clients to repeat themselves multiple times before she could get their information in the system. This would not do. Paula walked over to her station as the girl took another call. Leaning over her shoulder to see the screen more clearly, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Paula gasped at the reflection of herself and the older man with grey hair whose left side of his face was smashed in. “Are you alright, Paula?” the girl asked, spinning her chair around with dipped eyebrows and scrunched nose. “Fine, fine.” she responded, staring at her shaking hands and scurrying to the women’s bathroom. She splashed water on her face twice, then a third time for good measure, as she tried to get the image of the dead man’s body out of her mind. It had been almost a month since the father and daughter lay next to her dying. Paula thought she was ready to come back; maybe she was wrong. Was she hallucinating? She stared at her reflection and pulled at the bags under her drooping eyes. Her neck started twinging again. You’re not alone. Why did you leave her? swooshed into Paula’s ears again, like the saying held onto the air as it flew through the room. Paula quickly turned around to rush out of the bathroom but was met face to face with the dead man. His business suit was dirty and torn through his chest. The left side of his face caved in with blood and bone mashed together while the right side of his face was pleading with her. The man looked like he was screaming but no sounds came out as Paula steadied herself against the sink, trying to keep herself vertical. She examined the man’s lips, or at least the half that was able to move. He was mouthing the words that repeatedly hummed in Paula’s head: You’re not alone. Why did you leave her? This was the same man she recognized this morning in the cab and in the computer reflection. Paula realized she was the last person the man looked at before he died. As the bathroom door swung open, the dead man’s visage disappeared and Paula suddenly remembered to breathe. Huffing and holding her chest, the new girl rushed to her side, grabbed her forearm and asked, “Are you alright?” Paula nodded, unable to make a sound. “Let’s go get you some water, okay?” the woman suggested. Paula stared at her feet, feeling her blood pump through her body and into her broken leg so hard it thumped inside the boot. They finally reached the break room where Paula sat in a chair, slumped over, and accepted the water bottle and crackers the kind girl placed in front of her. She didn’t even know the girl’s name. Paula looked up, and said, “I’m so sorry, we haven’t actually been introduced. What’s your…” As she almost finished the sentence Paula took in all the details of the person in front of her. The long brown hair, the olive skin, delicate jawline, and the stunning baby blue eyes. “Not you!” stuttered Paula, refusing to take her eyes off the girl. “Yes, Paula, you’re not alone.” she calmly replied, sitting down in the opposite chair. “It can’t be, you died right in front of me!” she screamed, standing up in fear and anger. The girl bitterly smiled and asked through gritted teeth, “Why did you leave me?”

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 Paula limped to the bathroom in her uptown apartment, trying to put the least amount of pressure possible on her left foot, which was suffocating in the sweaty boot. She was grateful this was the worst of her injuries, and scared as to why that is all she suffered. An hour later Paula was dressed in a modest business skirt and blouse combination. She hobbled out of her building and hailed a cab. The ride to work seemed longer than usual, even though she typically took the subway which was double the time. Paula imagined walking back into her department, everyone staring and wondering why she needed an entire month to recuperate. She had never taken time off for anything let alone physical and mental recovery. The back of her neck tickled as the cab slowed to stop at a red light. Paula tried to ignore it but the longer she did, the worse it got. Looking out the window, she caught her own reflection and for a few seconds spotted an older man with grey hair sitting next to her. He had sat across from her on the train, next to a young woman who she assumed was his daughter. They both had striking blue eyes and beautiful tans. He had checked on her a few times while she dozed throughout the train ride. Paula quickly straightened in her seat and examined the other side of the cab, reassuring herself she was alone. Finally, she rubbed the feeling away in her neck, sensing how tense and knotted her muscles were. Surviving a train wreck could do that to a person. ​ Paula sat there wondering if her neck shouldn’t be broken too. And her shoulders, her arms, her torso. How did she make it? Nobody knew, and her therapist warned her not to focus on those thoughts: they’d only make her go down a dark path that would be much harder to recover from. Once at work, Paula was greeted by everybody with a sympathetic smile, even from the security officer stationed on the ground floor and the mailman who she had fantasized about but never looked twice at her. News spread fast in this place. At first Paula felt supported, but by the tenth cocked head and sad smile she mostly felt pathetic. Paula was a 53-year-old woman dragging her bum leg around an insurance claims floor, trying to look the upper management part she so easily played before being injured. Paula was thankful she had a job to come back to. Luckily, she had been at the company for over a decade and had some favors to pull. It also helped that she was the lone survivor of a major train crash and could be manipulated into the insurance company’s new poster woman for both health and life insurance. She decided to jump right into work, helping Tom, a second career softie who struggled putting clients in their place, especially when they asked for a manager. Then she greeted her old crew, the ones who had been there just as long as she had but were never promoted, leaving them as underpaid experts in the insurance field. “Big boss is back!” shouted Sheila with a slightly sarcastic tone, another middle-aged woman who could’ve been doing Paula’s job but was instead stuck with the newbies who were younger than her children. “Happy to see you, Paula.” Marc added, not looking up from his computer screen. “It really is good to see you’re doing well,” Sue reassured as she elbowed Marc, “and if you need anything just let us know.” “Thank you, Sue. I appreciate that.” Paula glanced at their work stations, noticing Marc had failed to cover the gossip magazine they clearly saved since their boss was the main feature. The headline read, “Miracle on the Train? Lone Survivor in Devastating Crash”. Of course, Paula had already seen this paper and many others from the day after the crash happened. All the major news articles went into detail about the drunk truck driver who slammed into the train, causing it to derail. One interviewed the engineer’s wife who was assured he did everything he could before he perished. Most articles displayed the names and ages of all 73 passengers that died either on impact or from injuries. But this trashy columnist talked about Paula. Where she was from, what she did for a living, her failed marriage, her nasty divorce, her bankruptcy, her huge promotion at the insurance company only a few months before the crash. It even questioned what she was doing on the train that day. At first, she thought the author was making her out to be a villain. Like she crashed her own car into the train. Or she somehow could’ve saved someone. Her therapist told her this too was a ludicrous and dangerous way of thinking. Guilt was a heavy burden to bear, and Paula felt like she was carrying around an extra 73 pounds. You’re not alone. Why did you leave her? You’re not alone. echoed in Paula’s ears as if two people were whispering on both sides of her body. She snapped herself out of the negativity and hyper focused on the task at hand: managing the customer service claims floor. The whole time she was talking to Sheila, Marc, and Sue, she was also listening to a young woman on the other side of the room who she assumed was a new hire. The poor girl kept asking the clients to repeat themselves multiple times before she could get their information in the system. This would not do. Paula walked over to her station as the girl took another call. Leaning over her shoulder to see the screen more clearly, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Paula gasped at the reflection of herself and the older man with grey hair whose left side of his face was smashed in. “Are you alright, Paula?” the girl asked, spinning her chair around with dipped eyebrows and scrunched nose. “Fine, fine.” she responded, staring at her shaking hands and scurrying to the women’s bathroom. She splashed water on her face twice, then a third time for good measure, as she tried to get the image of the dead man’s body out of her mind. It had been almost a month since the father and daughter lay next to her dying. Paula thought she was ready to come back; maybe she was wrong. Was she hallucinating? She stared at her reflection and pulled at the bags under her drooping eyes. Her neck started twinging again. You’re not alone. Why did you leave her? swooshed into Paula’s ears again, like the saying held onto the air as it flew through the room. Paula quickly turned around to rush out of the bathroom but was met face to face with the dead man. His business suit was dirty and torn through his chest. The left side of his face caved in with blood and bone mashed together while the right side of his face was pleading with her. The man looked like he was screaming but no sounds came out as Paula steadied herself against the sink, trying to keep herself vertical. She examined the man’s lips, or at least the half that was able to move. He was mouthing the words that repeatedly hummed in Paula’s head: You’re not alone. Why did you leave her? This was the same man she recognized this morning in the cab and in the computer reflection. Paula realized she was the last person the man looked at before he died. As the bathroom door swung open, the dead man’s visage disappeared and Paula suddenly remembered to breathe. Huffing and holding her chest, the new girl rushed to her side, grabbed her forearm and asked, “Are you alright?” Paula nodded, unable to make a sound. “Let’s go get you some water, okay?” the woman suggested. Paula stared at her feet, feeling her blood pump through her body and into her broken leg so hard it thumped inside the boot. They finally reached the break room where Paula sat in a chair, slumped over, and accepted the water bottle and crackers the kind girl placed in front of her. She didn’t even know the girl’s name. Paula looked up, and said, “I’m so sorry, we haven’t actually been introduced. What’s your…” As she almost finished the sentence Paula took in all the details of the person in front of her. The long brown hair, the olive skin, delicate jawline, and the stunning baby blue eyes. “Not you!” stuttered Paula, refusing to take her eyes off the girl. “Yes, Paula, you’re not alone.” she calmly replied, sitting down in the opposite chair. “It can’t be, you died right in front of me!” she screamed, standing up in fear and anger. The girl bitterly smiled and asked through gritted teeth, “Why did you leave me?”