You Need Directions?

She had came back to visit us. While she was away we had moved to a different location. I’ve lived here for my entire fifteen years of life. In fact, I was born in my house. It was my job to give her directions to home.
Where are you? I asked her.
30th st. station. What do I do? She asked. I sensed the slight tremor in her voice.

Stand in the middle of the station. I told her. There are two sides to choose from. 30th St. is the door to go through. When you go through pass the long line of advertising cars waiting for someone just like you. On the left you will see a huge stone building. Across the street is a pub. There are men in hardhats with drills and neon clothing. Pass them. There you’ll see a payphone. Look up there’s a sign on an arch that reads SEPTA. Walk down the steps. On the steps there’s black spots and bags or cups. Don’t scrunch up your face, keep going.

I’m going. The snobby tone in her voice did not edify well with me for I was taking my time to help her. Okay. I see people rushing forward for something. I’m standing here and people continue to turn their heads and give me insulting looks.
Follow the crowd. It’s what I always do. Through the phone I could hear the screeching of rubber against floor, clacking of heels and the swoosh sound as if someone ran right past her.

People are breaking off.

Don’t go to 69th.

Okay.

I listened more.

It’s coming. This must be why they run. Oh goodness, it smells so bad down here.

I didn’t respond to her criticism even though I knew it was true. It smelt of months and months of decaying trash. I didn’t think it was possible to even get a distinct smell from down there.

I heard the constant thumping and then the inhalation and exhalation of breath. Should I get on?

Yes.

Doors Open. The woman without a body and face said.

Sit down and put your bag on the seat next to you. If it’s crowding find any seat.

When do I get off? By the sound of her voice I would think she was uncomfortable.

The next stop.

She let out a big breath.

The lady without a face spoke in the distance. Next stop City Hall for Broad Street Line.

City Hall? You don’t live at City Hall do you? I wanted to laugh at the panic but I stopped myself.

No. You’ll have to catch another train.

Oh.

I waited in the quiet for her to reach her destination. City Hall.

Okay. I’m off.

Good. Now turn around until you see a sign that reads Broad Street Line. Go that way. Red, chipped steps will be in front of you. Go down there.

Excuse me. She said to a passerbyer. Southbound or northbound?

Northbound. The directions were making me tired and annoyed. A part of me really wanted to go find her. I never had any patience.

It’s here! There’s a sign on it that says…Express. Should I get on it?

Yes! Hurry up before it leaves.

Oh! Okay. I only hoped she made in it. After a few seconds the lady without a body and face said Doors closing. I released the sigh I had not realized I’d been holding in.

Okay. You may lose connection and it’s a very long time. I’ll hang up now. Get off on the last stop. You hear? Last stop. Fern Rock. Okay?

Last stop. Fern Rock. Understood. Bye. She clicked off on me and I removed the phone from my ear to stare at in astonishment.

I walked outside my house, the house that was chocolate but looked like it had honey poured over top it because it was so old. I passed the bush that needed chopping and walked down the steps. The sun sat behind the building but it still made me squint. I sat on the step far enough so the branch would block the bright light.

My brain did a tug-o-war for about fifteen minutes. Should I meet her at the train station or should she learn? The former won the argument so I waited until I heard the screech of the brakes of the wheels on what I assumed and hoped was the Express. Soon my phone vibrated in my hand and without looking at it I answered.

I’m here. And let me tell you, these are a lot of steps.

Yeah, well. Go through the revolving doors once you get up the steps. Through there you’ll more steps and parking lot. Please, don’t get hit.

Haha. Very funny. Why didn’t you meet me? I have a lot of stuff. I could use some help.

You’ve made it this far.

She didn’t respond.

Walk up the ramp when you see the small building with police cars in the lot turn that way. Keep walking until you pass the building without windows.

She huffed and puffed until I began to see her silhouette march along the pavement. Maybe I should have helped her.

Is that you?

Yes. It’s me. Be careful when walking across the street. Look both ways. I watched her not look both ways before crossing and jaywalk right over toward my house. She stopped in front of the little sloped garden and looked up at our honey-choco house.

Well, this is nice.

I hung up the phone and stared at her.

Her hair was longer that was for sure. Her face was makeup free, that was a relief and she looked too much like me and I wasn’t sure if I liked that.

She stared at me and then smiled, all the hatred emotion thrown away. Hey sis. She dropped her bags and threw her arms around me, squeezing tight.

I smiled in her shoulder and said, Welcome home.