The days number themselves two since my last writing. The previous weekend saw many a thing occur. It is perfectly remembered now, yet I am aware that three weeks will strip this memory from me. At last, it was done. I left Harry. I boarded a train, thoughtfully lonesome, like some vagabond and jail nearly had me also. I will begin this tumultuous tale at its conception.
It was the seventy-sixth day of my writing in this journal, July fourteenth, a Friday evening. The day’s events was finished its recording and Harry was hunting. The fire was started, he returned, the hare was eaten, we spake unto each, and then slumbered. The day was normal. However, while I was slept, a dream came to me. I awoke, knowing I dreamt but forgetful of its contents. But with a name did I also awaken. It felt not like a plain word; it felt like a memory. Evelyn. The name was apparent in my mind, but whenever it was thought of, nothing more came. I saw a coin in a fountain, a wishing well, and that coin is Evelyn. On the sixty-fourth day of my journaling, when children, we would reach into fountains to steal coins, Harry told me. And now, with that idea in my mind, I reach into the water to remember Evelyn. Yet, the pennies are shinning around. The forgetting did this. And Evelyn was not remembered.
I asked it of Harry, “Who is Evelyn?” Yet, a horrible, bad idea that was.
“So y’remember her?” He said after a long pause.
I jogged up to him. “I knew her?” I asked.
“Yes… You knew her.” The response given by Harry lacked tone.
“Well, who was she? Was she my lady-friend?” Excitement gripped me.
At that question’s asking, he stopped. “Not sure she would’a put it that way,” he slowly said.
Silence radiated from him with coldness. “She told me y’two had… Interactions.” The word was the largest said by him I have heard.
“Of what sorts were these interactions? My brother, I still have not the knowledge of whether she were my wife or my mother!” My voice was raised louder than I have yet. I was ever close to that coin, that memory, but it felt as if the water deepened.
“That’s enough o’the questions, Mack!” Harry’s retort was brittle.
“Harry!” My shouting was as loud as it could be. My rage made me hot. “I can’t remember anything!” I wept as if I were a child. “You know nothing of what is likened to this! Please, tell me anything!”
“No, Mack, you’ve asked too much this time. We’r done.”
“Who is Evelyn?” I screamed.
“Your lover!” Harry’s voice was loud and masculine. It startled me. Our feet were gazed at until he continued. “An’ she was m…” He was stopped. I could see him tremble. I was silent. I would not dare risk ending this talk. I had pried him open and I was about to see what was inside. “An’ she was some-man else’s wife.”
I stared at him, a blankness on my face. He met my eyes’ gaze and I suppose it enraged him. Harry hit me. Despite remembering recent events, the moments before my body met the ground were dark. I remember looking up at Harry, through blurred vision and limpsey, walking away. A mouth of blood I spat to the ground. But soon all sights were in darkness.
The next day was a Saturday, July fifteenth. The blow to my head and my exhaustion made me slumber all day and night, I suppose. The sound of an approaching train awoke me. It was barely dawn-time. I looked up past the hedge of bush we encamped behind and saw the train billowing smoke. It was not travelling speedily. Harry was seen lying on the ground, I was not sure if he was asleep or not. The train began to pass and that is when my fogged mind let my body do the acting. I was absent and not in control of what was being done. Which was running toward the moving train in fact. Once I had caught up to the train, it was found a ladder leading to the roof as I ran beside.
My ears heard Harry yell, “Mack!” from behind me.
A ladder rung was grabbed and I let my body loose. Once my feet were off the ground, one brought itself to the bottom rung and I was on. I could not find the strength to climb or shift so I clung to that ladder until the train stopped, which I know not of the time that passed before it did but it was midday or late morning.
“Mack!” I heard again. Harry had followed me. The ladder was climbed down before I saw Harry coming toward me in sprint. And then, like a bandit, he was toppled to the ground by some uniform-wearing man. My surroundings then revealed we were on a platform: a station. Another man in a uniform approached me and, grabbing my arm, he said to come with him.
A room had us sitting next to each other with the uniformed men. It was made apparent the law had not been observed by us boarding and riding without documentation. The fury I had on Harry subsided by replacing itself with fear. Not much of what was happening was understood by myself. Interestingly, because my brother was there to endure it with me, I was glad.
“I am sorry, Harry,” I whispered to him.
“I want’a trust y’with the truth, Mack. But if y’keep doin’ stuff like this…” He paused. “I don’t know if it’s right for me to tell you.” This was spoken rather properly.
“Okay, Harry,” I began, “once we are done here, can we take the train to New York and be done travelling?” I asked, it being realized, for what felt close to the one-hundredth time; the future simply being focused on and not the past was what was required of me.
“Your description matches a wanted poster from Portland, Oregon,” one of the officers stated unto Harry and me.
“We’re contacting the Portland authorities to make things clear. Once we’re done, I’m willing to let you two be on your way. Purchasing a ticket next time you take a train is all I ask for.” It was said by him in a very friendly manner.
Something was ignited in Harry by this comment. He leapt from his seat and swung his fists at the men in the room.
“Come on, Mack!” he yelled at me, grabbing my arm and leading us out of the room.
The train we had arrived on was beginning to leave the station. And we were soon on it again.
The seats were rushed to by people and the storage was quick to be filled with bags and such so this made ease for Harry and me to happen unnoticed. Harry seemed to know the men would be shortly behind us. A closet hid us until we could feel the train moving.
“Promise me y’never goin’ t’do that again?” Harry whispered.
“I promise.” My reply was quiet and true.
The closet door was slowly opened and Harry peered out, his hands stiff. He stepped forward and gestured for me to follow. The cabin was half-full of people. We found an empty set of seats and took them. No one seemed to notice us.