(Note: This was originally posted in the Flash Fiction section of The Untitled Forum, and was so composed.)

Parallel Lines

"Is it a penny, or a nickel?" asked Toby, pulling on his boot where it had stuck in the mud of the swampy trail that lined the track.

"A penny, stupid. You don't want to waste a whole nickel." Isabella dug into her pocket and pulled out a small handful of change. "I've got a quarter, too."

"Where'd you get that?"

"Mom."

"She gave it to you?"

Isabella didn't answer, just smiled slyly and slipped the coins back into the pocket of her overalls. "Come on, it's almost time."

Suzanne sipped wine from a paper coffee cup and stared through the compartment window at the blur of scrub trees and rooftops. A flock of ducks rose suddenly from the edge of a pond, startled by the roar of the train, and sketched a sickle-shaped outline as they swooped up and around. She craned her head to see them glide back to the ground as the train passed. Harold was snoring. She took another sip and glanced at him, her eyes unfocused as they slowly readjusted to the interior gloom. He sputtered a little in his sleep, his head bent awkwardly against the edge of the seat. His suit was getting crumpled. Suzanne smiled slightly at the thought of the fastidious Harold waking to find the self-inflicted creases, his irritation that there wouldn't be time before the conference to have it ironed.

"I want to look for a nest," Toby whined.

"You'll never find one," said Isabella. "They hide them in the weeds, and cover them up with leaves and stuff. Come on!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the reeds. He stumbled after her, staring into the sky to watch a duck circle, trying to spot where it landed.

"Here." Isabella stood at the edge of the cinders, pointing to the silver curve of the rails. Toby caught up and followed her gaze down the long straight stretch of track that curved here to skirt a swath of lowland. "The train has to slow down right here so it won't derail."

"What?"

"Jump the track. Come on up with me." Toby hesitated.

"The train's not coming yet, is it?"

"No, stupid. Come on."

They climbed the slight embankment and squatted on either side of the rail. Isabella fished in her pocket and pulled out the coins again. She selected the penny and placed it in Toby's small, grubby hand.

"Hold this." She shoved the other coins back into her pocket, then plucked the penny from Toby's palm. "See, we just put it right here, right in the middle of the rail. When the train runs over it, it'll squash like a tin can. It'll be as big as the quarter!" Toby kneeled on the railroad tie and stared at the coin, seeming to sense the magic potential locked in its copper plating, the ancient heat of metallic transmutation. The coin seemed to vibrate where it sat perched dead center on the brake-shined steel. "Toby!" Isabella shrieked. He looked at her face, suddenly white against the green-brown jumble of the swamp, and followed her arm pointing down toward the long straightaway.

Suzanne let her hardcover bang open on the compartment tabletop, but Harold only stopped snoring for a moment and fidgeted. She didn't want him awake, anyway. They'd been having the same conversation for ten years, so what was the point? He would start it each time, unknowingly, leave her an opening through which she could tiptoe into that territory—a colleague griping about a PTA meeting, the incessant schleps to hockey practice, the exorbitance of braces, all the problems they didn't have—but he'd learned by now how to fend her off with promises and credit cards. She hardly ever ventured there anymore, let it sink uselessly within her like a swallowed coin that could never be used for a purchase.

Toby scrambled over the rail and tumbled down the embankment into Isabella's arms, knocking them both down in a protective embrace. They stared breathless as the train bore down and slapped them with a wall of air and sound, just as quickly gone. Isabella rushed up to the rail and started searching among the ties and cinders.

Suzanne watched the children race by through her window, a girl of eight or nine, she imagined, hugging a young boy who must be her brother. She felt a wall crack inside her, for a moment, then quickly wiped the unexpected tears with a napkin and kicked Harold on the foot, waking him up.

"I can't find it!" yelled Isabella. "Help me look." She turned to find Toby standing by the reeds with his hands behind his back, grinning like a carnival.

"Look," said Toby, bringing his hand around and opening his palm. "I found an egg!"

"Harold," said Suzanne. "I'm leaving you."

February 2005