Her steps sent sharp splashes of water, dousing everyone she ran by. She herself was thoroughly soaked, her clothing clinging to her like a second skin and hampering her movements. Yet she maintained her desperate pace, barely registering the plaintive protests of the people she raced by. He could not leave. She could not let him leave.
Shoving her way through the doors of Penn Station, she barely skidded to a stop to avoid tumbling bodily down the stairs and had to grip the handrail tightly to steady herself. Ignoring the bemused gazes of the crowd around her, she made her way to the timetable that hung in the center of the station. It took a few agonizing seconds -- desperation and hopelessness destroying her concentration -- but she found his train.
Chicago. 4:15pm. Track 2.
Shivering, she rubbed her drenched arms uselessly to try to incite warmth and willed her body into a brisk run. Only ten minutes to catch him. Fleeting thoughts of futility spun through her head as she briefly considered how she would even find him, what she would even say.
Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she nearly ran face-first into the station official standing in front of platform two. For a moment they mirrored the impatient gaze of the other until the man cleared his throat.
"Ticket?"
She gasped slightly, hands moving automatically to each of her pockets to search for a ticket she knew did not exist. "Oh yeah. Um," she bit her lip, sneaking a quick peek past him to confirm that the train had not left. "I-I..." So close! "I don't..." she choked, frustration beginning to show in the tears that, held back for so long, were now threatening to spill onto her cheeks. After a moment's hesitation, she shook her head.
The official again mirrored her movement, shaking his head. "I can't let you pass," he said, not unkindly. "I'm sorry."
She remained standing there for a moment longer, considering. Was there nothing she could do? He pursed his lips, shaking his head and apologizing once more. Finally, she nodded, her face reddening as she backed away. How embarrassing -- to run all the way here ultimately for no reason. She knew it was too late, that there was no point. She grimaced. But at least she tried, right?
She surveyed the station briefly before heading to the exit, cutting a dejected figure with her head bowed and shoulders slightly hunched over. It was over, really over. This wasn't anything new, of course, but she would be lying if she said she never hoped for a reconciliation. She swallowed, taking a deep breath to ease the lump that had formed in her throat.
Maybe if she had told the station official, maybe if she explained -- maybe he might have let her through? She shook her head. Destructive thinking, let it go. Let him go. Maybe this was better anyway. What was it that they say? Out of sight, out of --
"Emma?"
She froze, her heart jumping immediately back into her throat. He wasn't on the train? "Jesse?" She felt her mouth go dry as she slowly turned and she discovered that she should have rehearsed this reunion -- suddenly she didn't know what to say.
He stood there, duffel bag in hand, staring at her with a mixture of curiosity, amusement and -- her heart dropped -- not a little hostility. She had to avert her gaze. "What are you doing here?"
"I... couldn't let you leave."
"As if you had any say in that."
"No - I mean, I just wanted to talk.” She raised her eyes, pleading. "I didn't want to leave it like it was."
He shook his head but his voice softened. "What else is there to say?"
She shut her eyes, turning her head away to hide the sudden tears that now escaped them as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "I don't... I don't know..." He had to still care. Didn't this hurt him too?
"Look -- we tried the friend thing, but it's not working. It will be better for both of us to just..." He sighed. "Emma, we tried."
"But..." Emma crumpled into herself, trailing into silence. What else WAS there to say?
"It's not going to change."
"Why not?"
"We can't be friends. You're not okay with being just friends. It hurts you even when you say it doesn't." He strode over to her, setting his bag down to hold her by the shoulders - but still at arms-length. "You need to move on.”
"..." She wanted to scream at him, but instead released more of her tears. “I meant nothing to you, huh?” she said, almost inaudibly.
He shook his head with a sigh, pulling her to him. "Emma, that’s not…."
"Don't touch me!" She stepped back, shaking her head. "You’re giving up, you're letting go. How was I at all important to you?"
"Emma, be reasonable-"
"How could it have meant anything?"
"It meant - you do mean something to me."
“But you’re leaving. We will never talk again.” She lifted her eyes to his, challenging him to deny her words.
"Emma…" he swallowed, turning his gaze away. He couldn’t deny it. He bit his lip as she began crying, softly to herself this time. "Oh, come on! How many times are we going to do this?." He threw his arms up in the air, shifting his weight impatiently. “It never changes. It’s never going to change! What do you think is going to change?”
She moaned, only sobbing harder. At a loss for anything more to say, Jesse stood there in silence, awkwardly watching her cry.
After a few moments, he shuffled his feet sheepishly, hesitantly going to retrieve his bag. "Emma?" he ventured gently. "I have to go, my train is leaving in fifteen minutes." She didn't even look up at him, dropping her face into her hands. He hesitated briefly before turning away. "Goodbye." When his steps started fading, Emma finally lifted her gaze to watch him walk away from her until he disappeared amongst the throngs of people who were also taking the trip from NYC to Chicago.
She didn't dare to voice the farewell that tightened her chest and turned her stomach. Instead, she too turned away, grappling with a deep sense of loss as she escaped out the door to go back home.
