After my father left I stared at the phone, finding reasons not to return Krista's call. I fought the temptation to hop into my car and drive. Where, I hadn't an idea. As much as the idea appealed to me, I couldn't, whatever remained of my family needed me. I was oblivious that the exact opposite was true.
I retreated to my room. I avoided looking over Shannie's yard and Fernwood. I was tired of life at this dead end. Eyes closed, I pulled my window shades shut. I climbed into bed. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't sleep. My mind raced back to the accident.
"It's definitely them," Steve told Bradigan after identifying the bodies. "The Driver's name is Genise Gray. The passenger's name is Shannie Ortolan."
"Any idea of next of kin for Ms. Gray?" Bradigan asked.
"She has a brother," I broke my silence. I was leaning against the back of the police car. "If it helps, his name's Calvin Gray. Used to be in the Army, 101st Airborne."
"That'll help," Bradigan said.
Turning my head away from the cop, I noticed Russell standing on the steps of JD's, towering above those on the sidewalk, his facial features obscured by a cloud of cigar smoke. I imagined him peering through his sunglasses, studying the scene. I scratched the idea of approaching him and breaking the news that his butterfly lay broken on the far side of the tracks. I overheard a shaken voice identify himself as the train's engineer. I turned towards the owner of the voice.
A combination of rage, compassion and pity struck me as my eyes fell upon him. Whatever I expected an engineer to look like, he wasn't it. How could someone so frail operate such a powerful beast? In the years Shannie and I dodged freights, I've always harbored images of engineers being big, burley men -worthy of operating something so powerful. This man was suited for operating a card-catalogue at the public library. His haggard face was framed by small oval glasses, like my grandfather used to wear. Unlike my grandfather's meaty, round face, the engineer's face was thin and sickly, an oval with pencil marks for nose and lips, his eyes no more than slits topped by eyebrows as thick as forsythia. He looked incapable of accidentally killing an ant let alone someone as vital as Shannie.
"What did you see?" Bradigan asked.
The engineer paused, exhaling a long breath before speaking. "As we approached the crossing, the car pulled around the gate and stopped on the tracks. I've seen it before, you know, drunks playing chicken. Hell, I've had pedestrians at this very crossing stand in front of me, waiting till the last second before dodging me; damn imbeciles. I don't know what possess them. Anyway, the car stops, I lay on the horn. It wasn't till the passenger door opened and the blonde jumps out that I figured this one wasn't playing. I immediately laid on the emergency breaks, but you know as well as anyone there's no way the train was going to stop in time. The passenger, the blond, I could see her in the headlights, she paused for a second, looking at the train, I swear she was studying it. She ran around to the driver's side. I could see her yanking on the door, pounding on the window. She looked up at us again; I could see the fear on her face. I started to yell, screaming to her to clear the crossing, like she'd hear me. Instead she jumped over the hood, leaned into the car, across the driver and opened the door from the inside."