It was late October when he first noticed her. There was something about her grey-blue eyes and blond hair with gentle curls that haunted him.
Pete Hutchinson was an I.T. Specialist on the graveyard shift for a law firm in Manhattan. There weren't that many New Jersey Transit Trains coming and going at the hours he traveled. He guessed she must also have a midnight-shift job and that's why he saw her so often.
The first time he'd seen her, she'd been a couple of seats down facing the opposite direction. They'd played a game of eye tag as he liked to call it. He'd look at her, they'd catch eyes, 'tag you're it' and he'd look away. Lather, rinse, repeat. When the train had pulled into Penn Station, she'd melted his heart with a shy smile as she left the train.
They weren't always on the same car, but he would see her through the windows one or two cars down...and they shared the same stop, Rahway. There was usually a man with her when she got on the train, but he couldn't figure out their relationship. They never kissed, and barely even spoke. He had an imposing, angry presence that made Pete nervous just from looking at him.
Pete grew bold one evening, walking through the train until he found her. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage and sat down in the seat next to her.
She looked up and noticed him, then blushed and looked back down again.
"Hello," he said.
"No English," she said in a thick accent.
"Russian?"
"Yes."
He tried a couple of times, but her English was incredibly limited. Through international fumbling sign language he was able to communicate to her that he did something with computers. She unbuttoned her coat enough to show him a polyester blue uniform dress and made washing motions, letting him know she had a cleaning job. That exhausted their ability to communicate and they sat there for several minutes in awkward silence.
Pete eventually pulled out his iPod and was about to listen to it when he got an idea. Taking one earbud and offering it to her, she smiled and accepted it. He started playing the music and they spent the rest of the ride in listening to tunes. She observed her reactions to the songs and made a mental note of the ones she seemed to like the most.
As the train pulled into the station, they looked at each other regretfully.
"Pete," he said, indicating himself.
"Ludmila," she said, smiling. Then a fearful look crossed her features. She looked outside to the platform fearfully then grabbed her things, pushing past him. "Good bye." She rushed off the train, holding up a warning finger not to follow her. She dashed down the platform and was soon out of sight.
That morning, Pete watched the 7:09 outbound train leave and sat patiently in the station waiting for her to appear. As the time for the 7:45 run approached he grew nervous, not wanting to wait another half hour to get home. He looked up with relief as he saw her approaching. He started to walk toward her, but she caught his eye and shook her head almost imperceptibly, indicating the large man walking near her. Pete looked away from her and kept walking past. Once clear, he stepped quickly into a car on the train and watched through the windows where he could go unnoticed.
The large man escorted Ludmila to a car and glared her ominously until the doors closed. Pete waited until the train had pulled out of the station then walked between the cars to reach her. Once again, he sat beside her without asking. She looked up at him with sad, exhausted eyes, but seemed to welcome his presence.
"Music?" she said, awkwardly, pointing to her ear. Pete pulled out his iPod and they listened once again. She smiled as he cued up a song she had liked. Soon, he saw her eyes drifting closed. Slowly, she slid against his shoulder and his heart raced at the feel of her head resting there. He didn't move a muscle for the next half hour, not until the Linden stop, just before theirs. He gently nudged her with his shoulder and she opened her eyes, sitting upright abruptly. He pointed to the signs outside the window and she quickly got her bearings. She took out the ear bud and handed it to him sadly.
"Thank you," she said as he walked to the other end of the car.
Once again, he tried to be circumspect as the doors opened at their station. On the platform, he stepped to the side to watch as she was met by the man he always saw with her. When Ludmila got near him, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. Pete watched with concern as the man kept his hand there, gripped around her as they walked toward a car in the parking lot. As she got into the car, she cast one backward glance and again shook her head 'no' toward him and he stepped out of sight.
His mind was burning with questions.
Who were these men? What were they doing with her?
Yet he couldn't ask her anything, not with the complete language barrier between them. He resolved to do all he could to change that.
That night, he again found his way to her and sat beside her.
"Music?" she said, warmly.
"No," he replied. "Words."
"Words?" She looked confused.
"Seat," he said, pointing to the padded cushion across from them. "Window," he tapped on the glass. "Coat," he pulled on his jacket.
She looked at him in surprise. A curious joy shone in her eyes as she recognized what he was doing. With no hesitation, she dove right in.
"Seat. Weendow. Coat," she said, indicating each item.
The rest of the trip was an English lesson. As they neared Penn Station, she said thank you and moved away from him.
Over the next few weeks they developed a regular routine. He would board, she would wait, the train would pull out, he would find her.
"Hello, it is good to see you," she said, formally. It was mid-November and her English was coming along surprisingly well.
"Very good, Milyushka," said Pete. He'd been doing research of his own and had found her Russian nickname. Her blush was all the response he needed to know she didn't mind him calling her that.
"What we learn today?" she asked.
"Today, we talk. We'll learn that way."
"Oh good," she said, grinning. "I like talk. I like talk with you."
They had adjusted the seats so they could face each other. The attraction between them was palpable, though neither of them had acted on it yet.
"What we talk about?" she asked.
He reached forward and took both of her hands in his, looking sincerely into her eyes. "Ludmila, who are these men? Who are the men who meet you at the stations?"
She blanched, pulling her hands back from his and placing them firmly in her lap.
"Those men. In New York, he is with job. The man at Rahway he is…how you say?" She held her hands to her head, pointing her fingers outward.
"The devil?" said Pete.
"Yes! The Devil. He is devil. You…you should never go by them. Stay away. For many reasons. I ask you this strong like."
"Alright," said Pete.
"I mean this Petrov," she entreated. "Bad, bad men."
"I understand," said Pete. "Let's just talk now. Where are you from? Where in Russia?"
"I lived in small town, outside city of Ukhta," said Ludmila.
"What brought you here?" asked Pete.
Ludmila looked off into the distance, not meeting his eyes. It was clear this was a very uncomfortable subject for her.
"I was in University," she said flatly. "I was uh… tell stories with words."
"A writer?" prompted Pete.
"Yes. A writer. I was good. Perhaps no Dostoyevsky, but they say I do good. My father, work in petrol fields. He have accident. My mother, she drive too…uh…strong, fast to get to hospital. They die in rooms next to each other."
She shrugged, trying to make it seem casual.
"I have younger brother. Michael. Misha. I leave university. Get job. Money not so good. This…this thing in America comes. I take it. Misha is in school you sleep at."
"boarding school?" prompted Pete.
"Boarding school, yes," said Ludmila. "I pay for that. Is good."
It didn't seem like it was all good to Pete. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but still she looked out the window impassively. She steeled herself, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve.
"Now you, Pete," she said smiling. "Where you from?"
