Remember This

A story very loosely based on Daniel Ten

By Bob Freye

She had turned to hand the porter a few shillings for helping wrestle her trunk onto the train, and when she turned back, he was there, tall and dark, his jacket tossed casually over one shoulder, and his white shirt and old-school striped tie covered in dark oil stains.

“Hello, Winnie,” he said. “I got your note.”

“Derrek,” she said. “You came.”

She had often dreamed of seeing him again, but she had imagined a more perfect setting. Not this.

“Of course I came, Winnie. Wild horses couldn’t keep me from this meeting.”

“But Derrek,” she said, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice, “I sent that note weeks ago. Why didn’t you come sooner?”

“Yes, well,” he glanced down at his shoes, which were uncharacteristically scuffed and soiled. “I started out as soon as I got the letter, back on the third, I think it was.”

“It’s the twenty-fourth, Derrek. I had only three weeks for my vacation. I arrived here on the third.”

“That sounds right.” He nodded as he computed the dates in his head. “You sent the note a few days ahead of your trip, and in keeping with normal post office traffic, the postman delivered it to my door on the same day you arrived here. Something of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

Perhaps, she thought, but that wasn‘t the point. 

“And you started out the same day?” she asked, sounding unconvinced.

“The very same day,” he assured her.

“Then what in the world took you so long?”

“I told you,” he said, sounding somewhat wounded. “Wild horses! But the important thing is that they couldn’t keep me from this meeting.”

The porter returned to warn Winnifred that the train was about to leave. He asked Derrek if he would be traveling as well.

“Well, I don’t suppose I can,” Derrek answered. “I don’t have a ticket. I only came to see Winnie.”

“And now you’ve seen me,” she declared, adding with an imperious tone, “and now you don’t.”

She turned on her heels and stomped toward the passenger car.

“Wait!” Derrek called out. “I have something to tell you.”

She whirled around with fire in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you come and tell me when I had time to listen? If it was so important to tell me something, then why didn’t you come a week ago, or two weeks ago? You could have come a half hour ago, and it would have been better than this! But no! You had to—,” she shook with the effort of finding the right words, “you had to wrestle wild horses instead of spending time with me!”

“I didn’t actually wrestle them,” Derrek explained. “I just had to fix the car after I ran into one.”

She leaned toward him to ask what he meant, but thought better of it. Giving her head a shake, she waved off his explanation and turned again.

“It was quite a fender-bender,” Derrek called out. “Of course, the horse will be fine. Just a busted leg, but the vet put that right. I’m out a bit for the bill, but it was my fault, since I was hurrying to get here to see you. But no matter.”

The porter saw her turn back again. He wondered if he should pick her up and throw her onto the train, but that wasn’t exactly standard railroad practice. Instead he signaled the engineer to wait.

Winnie walked slowly back toward Derrek. “I don’t understand. You had to take care of a horse?”

“Well, not just me. The vet did most of the work. Then I was back in my car and on my way.” He held his breath for a moment, as if avoiding the next part of the story. “Except—”

“Except what?”

“Except the fool thing wouldn’t start.” He certainly sounded apologetic. “A little problem with the oil.”

When he didn’t offer more information, she prodded.

“A little problem?”

“A rather big problem, I’m afraid. There was no oil in the motor.”

Her expression grew dark.

“A hose was dislodged in the accident, or maybe it was a fitting. Apparently I’d forgotten to take the car in for service at the recommended intervals, and things had just deteriorated, mechanically speaking. Well, things have been busy at the farm, with the increasing demand for wool. And I’ve had to spend time with the solicitors, plotting business strategy, and all that.”

She had turned away from him again and was hurrying to the train.

“And of course, I was coming here to meet you!” he called out.

He rushed after her, but the train had started moving as soon as Winnifred’s feet lifted from the platform. Derrek walked along the car until he saw her fall heavily into a seat. Lucky for him that she sat on his side of the train.

“I have to tell you something,” he yelled up at the window.

She pulled the glass down and poked her head out.

“It was good seeing you,” she called down to him. “Think of me sometime, if you aren’t too busy running over livestock with your car.”

“I have to tell you something,” he repeated.

“It’s too late, Derrek,” she said.

“But that’s just it. It’s not too late.” He was walking beside the train, picking his way through the people that still lined the platform. As he walked, he yelled up to her, “Our story is for another time.”

“What?” she called back.

“Remember this,” he hollered, “it will be sometime in the future, after a month of sometimes, but I will be there for you. After a winter of sometimes, I will come to you.”

He nearly tripped over an old man who had stooped down to tie a shoe, but Derrek somehow regained his balance and ran to catch up.

“Other men may promise you the world, but give me just a handful of sometimes, and I will be there.”

The sight of him, running along, desperately trying to catch up to her, it was pitiful and wonderful at the same time. She could feel her heart begin to melt.

“Remember this, Winnie! Remember this!” He was slowing, and the train was beginning to pick up speed. “A handful of sometimes, and I will come to you!”

“You must, Derrek!” she shouted back. “You must!”

“And I promise, Winnie,” he shouted as her car pulled away, “that I will find a way to get my automobile on a program of regular maintenance.”

His legs finally gave out, and he slumped over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath as the train rumbled down the track.

Winnie closed the window and combed through her windblown hair with her fingers. What had he said at the last? Something about being irregular?

That couldn’t be good. But things would be different in the future. She knew that, now. A handful of sometimes, he had said. Give him a handful of sometimes, and they would be together.

Yes, she would wait for him. And she made a pledge, right then and there.

When that day came, she would make certain, every morning, that he would have the proper amount of fiber in his diet.

 

[-] © 2006