The Christmas Pudding Lie

by P. B. Phillips

As the train passes San Pablo Bay and the Carquinez Straits, on its journey into the great central valley, the produce capital of the world, she decides to explore the layout of the train. She enters the glass domed sightseer lounge car. It features deep cushion club chairs, love seats and booths. Walking nonchalantly, Anna heads for the snack area. A porter dressed in burgundy and gold hands out menus with prices. Also he announces the movie schedule. She makes a mental inventory of the edible delights. The lounge car buzzes with excitement, as passengers feel compelled to point out the many attractions outside. Anna sinks into one of the upholstered wing chairs and takes in the passing sights and conversations of the other passengers. For the most part, they are like Anna, seniors.

  She muses, ‘Rail travel must be too expensive for families. Or maybe kids can’t take being cooped up in a moving box too long. I’m not sure that I can for that matter.’

  As the train leaves the Sacramento area, Anna spies someone approaching. An elderly gent, near her age, sporting a white silver moustache, a navy blue Armani blazer, blue silk dress shirt with brown tie with blue polka dots, cocoa brown dress slacks and a pair of Cole Haan sandals with no socks sidles up beside her.

  ‘Jack Sprat’s got nothing on him,’ she jests silently while looking over the intruder.

  “Beautiful country!” he remarks looking directly into her dark brown eyes.

  Alarm bells go off immediately in her head. The debate begins whether or not to get into a conversation. ‘Ignore him. Maybe he will go away. He looks like a neocon. No socks, no way. He’s probably a used car salesman. He could be a spook. Nah, none of the above, his duds are too chic. Say something! He’s still standing there. He’s not going away!’

  Despite paranoia’s clamoring, she manages a reserved, “It is.”

  She attempts to get out of the club chair to make an escape. However, this simple task proves to be daunting. She gives up and plops back down. Embarrassed, she comments,

  “Drat, I forget that gravity’s force grows in direct relationship to one’s age.”

  “Yes, it’s physics,” the stranger answers.

  “Did you want this seat? I’m going to see about lunch. It looks like we have a train full on this trip.” Anna tries again to exit.

  “Thank you. I thought that I might make use of the seat opposite yours, if that’s all right? And may I suggest the later lunch. It offers spectacular views of Tahoe. If it suits you, maybe, you will join me. My name is Sid. Are you going back home for the Christmas?”

  “I’m Doc B. Can you believe it Christmas is just around the corner?”

  She settles back in her seat. The hours fly by, as the stranger called Sid delights Anna with stories about the natural wonders before them. Good fortune brings a geologist to pass the time and keep her amused. Around 7 PM, the train stops in Winnemucca, Nevada.

  “This is a good time to return to the dining car,” Sid suggests. “You can take in your first Nevada sunset as we make our way into Utah territory.”

  “Do you work for Amtrak?” Anna poses.

  “I have a passion,” is all Sid offers.

  After dinner, Anna returns to the cubby of a room. Seeing that the porter has made up the bed, she settles in for the night but finds it hard to sleep. “Sleepless on Amtrak, so what else is new?”

  Anna whines as the train enters the next station. “For heaven’s sake do they have to announce every stop?”

  Through every junket and with every switch of the track the nightrider whistles. Soon however she settles in and falls asleep to the sound of the silver bullet’s symphony. There is the clang, clang, clang of the guard gates closing and the deep bass horns of other passing trains.

  Come four-thirty, Anna wakes. She knows that there is no going back to sleep.

  “Maybe I can catch the first light in Salt Lake in the glass domed touring car. It’s probably the only time the lounge is quiet.”

  The narrow corridors lined in cherry wood feature running lights to guide the traveler to and fro. The touring car is dressed in soft low light. A creature of habit, she chooses the same club chair. Before she can get comfortable a low voice mumbles,

  “Heeey Aaabbbott is that you?”

  Anna literally jumps out of the chair. “Jeepers Creepers!!! You scared the living daylight out of me.” Her eyes struggle to adjust to the light.

  “Oh sorry, Doc, I mistook you for the mummy. You are familiar with Bud and Lou? You are of that era? I couldn’t resist. I’m truly sorry. Forgive me?” Sid’s attempts at sincerity are thin, as he tries in vain to stifle his need to laugh out loud.

  With some composure, he offers yet another apology, “Sorry, I seem to be stuck on sorry. But even a stoic would break up seeing you jump over the moon like that.”

  “Oh so in the gloaming, you go from geologist to practical joker. I’m sure my heart just had a quadruple bypass,” Anna exclaims.

  “I didn’t expect to find a soul in here at this hour, let alone the ghost of Lou Costello.” Anna struggles to gain composure.

  Sid makes his excuses. “I see that we have something in common. We are the early birds. I just managed to get a coach seat, last minute and all. The seats in here are far more comfortable. And it is a lot quieter. I was about to strangle the next person who snored, cough, wheezed, sneeze or moaned. So I went in search of sanctuary. But not another word, I leave you in peace.” He prepares to exit.

  Anna embarrassed by her outburst offers, “Hey don’t go on my account. I promise not to snore, cough, wheeze, sneeze or moan.”

  “Thanks, but I’m on a mission!” says Sid.

  Anna tries to read the mystery that hides behind Sid’s sea mist eyes. He sees the puzzled look and quickly adds, “Coffee, Java, Joe?”

  “Oh, is the dining car open?” is the only intelligible response she can make.

  Sid salutes and says, “I have no shame. I am off to bribe the porter for the first cup of coffee.”

  The night begins to slowly shed its black shroud. A glimmer of gray light emerges. Anna peers out onto the distant flickering lights. Within minutes though, Sid returns with the night porter.

  “Coffee?” the porter not waiting for a reply pours piping hot black coffee from a sleek silver coffee service.

  “Oh bless you, thank you.” Anna accepts the offer and wonders if a tip is in order. Sid shakes the hand of the very distinguished looking elder porter. Anna spies a bit of green pass between them.

  Together, Sid and Anna sit quietly witnessing the dawn of another day just outside Provo.

  “Beautiful country,” Sid starts the next day’s travel log.

  This day offers the most dramatic vistas of the entire trip. Through the vast meadowlands of Rocky Mountain National Park, Sid talks excitedly about the remains of aboriginal people who lived nearby at Windy Gap around 3000 BC. He is literally beside himself describing the geothermal environment of Fraser Canyon.

  “They call this place the Icebox of America. Temperatures drop to minus 50 here. Get comfortable. If you need to use the loo, go now. We’ll soon be entering the Devil’s Thumb. It’s a six-mile trek through the darkest of tunnels. It’s a bit treacherous, so they ask that the travelers remain seated. It takes about a quarter of an hour” Sid wonders if his advice is over the top.

  Entering into the cavernous crevice, Anna chatters to fend off claustrophobia. "Do you think Neanderthal man walked upright back there in Fraser Canyon, Sid?”

  Sid quips, “What’s your interest? Do you suspect Neanderthals hanging from your family tree?”

  Anna continues with real curiosity, “Some of us are a bit of a throw back, I confess. But do you think Homo sapiens and Neanderthals mixed it up?”

  Sid’s eyebrows arch and a smile curls his lips. He proceeds, “By that, I assume that you are suggesting cross species breeding?”

  “Hmm, whatever…” Anna gives him latitude.

  He answers, “There is evidence that they overlapped. But there is no evidence to support commingling. DNA t
esting indicates that they are two distinct species. But you think otherwise?”

  Anna rushes in, “Indeed, I can point to hard evidence that Neanderthals walk upon this earth still. There is a large colony living on Capital Hill in DC.”

  Sid shakes his head and raises just his right eyebrow this time, “I guess that I walked right into that, Lou. But you make a very serious point.”

  He continues, “They may not share DNA but they sure as hell share a common culture.”

  Sid has her full attention. Her mouth hangs open ready to take in his every word.

  “Go on,” she says.

  “Simply put, Neanderthal Culture lives. The first union of men, Neanderthal or Homo sapiens, was a band of warriors. This remains the primary and predominant identification of the male species into the age of Homo sapiens. The Neanderthal Credo of kill or be killed has shaped and warped every civilization.

  But that’s enough of the ‘rocky horror picture show!’” Sid tries to change the subject.

  Anna has to have the last word. “Yet, you have to wonder if there is intelligent life on this planet.”

  Sid smiles. With his iridescent blue green stare he redirects her attention. She looks ahead where glimpses of daylight appear. Anna resumes a more normal breathing pattern as they exit the tunnel.

  She muses silently, ‘A Rocky Mountain high with a rock man,’

  As the sun sets over the mile high city, Sid and Anna sit quietly contemplating purple shadows. Shades of darkness prepare the cityscape for a night’s rest.

  Sid leans into her and whispers, “Tomorrow it’s the grand old state of Iowa, all day. I hope that you can get some shut-eye tonight. The last hours on the rails are the hardest on the derriere. You’ll be glad to set down at Union Station. When you disembark, walk straight ahead. Your connecting train is just steps away on platform 13. I’m going to keep a lookout on the midnight skies here in the touring car. I’m off at Omaha.”

  Anna, surprised by feelings of disappointment, replies, “Oh you are leaving? I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve enjoyed our time together. I hope that all your days are easy, Rider.”

  Sid salutes her again, “Likewise I’m sure. Maybe I catch you on the rebound. Have a good trip. Make it the first in many. Forget retirement. Keep safe.”

  “Ciao, Sid. Next light.” Anna returns to the sleeper car.

  Inside the sardine can of a compartment, Anna remarks, “That’s one smart dude! A ‘Company man...? Don’t go there. No more conspiring. Starting right now, I promise no more talk of spies. It freaks me out.”

  The train caterwauls as it passes the slower, plodding freight trains. Anna believes that the howling night train sounds very much like a coyote on the plains.

  Chapter Five

  Anna spirits soar again when after eighteen hours of non-adventure, the conductor announces, “New York City, Penn Station, Manhattan, five minutes.”

  With backpack in tow, Anna makes haste to exit. In the station, the crowd moves to and fro much like worker ants. She steps blithely into the undertow of crowded agitation. Wasting no time, she spies the nearest exit.

  A booming hiss over the public address system inside the train station grabs everyone’s attention. In a calm but firm manner, the order goes forth, “For your safety, we ask that you please evacuate the building at this time.”

  Before the last word echoes, a mob scene ensues. A frightened crowd surges and pushes her involuntarily out onto the street. Now in the throes of a riot and the raucous clamor of mid day traffic in mid town New York, Anna tries to keep her cool. She reminds herself that this is typical New Yorker behavior. Not to worry…

  She hails the next cab. Several people jostle Anna out of the way trying to hijack the cab. Fortunately for her, the driver locks the doors and indicates that the cab is for Anna. Suspicion calls but Anna has no choice. She tugs at the cab’s door. The lock pops and she jumps in. The locks reengage just as urgently. The driver pulls away from the curb without a word of direction. Anna is tossed back abruptly into the seat and she is not a bit concerned about where the taxi is heading. There is only one thing on her mind, she asks, “What’s going on?”

  The driver with one eye on the traffic struggles with the cab’s radio. With the other eye, he looks into the rear view mirror to answer Anna,

  “I’m trying to get it now. The street is calling it a bomb scare. But I don’t know where. Some are yelling that it’s al-Qaida again.”

  Anna tries to spin a more civil scenario, “Perhaps it’s a fire drill.” She clings to this level headed analysis and calls out to direct the driver.

  “Are we heading in the direction of the Midtown Terminal 12 and 55 please?”

  The cabby, a man of Middle Eastern origins, is glued to the radio. “Pier?” he asks.

  “Pier 8O something” Anna answers with heightened urgency.

  “I’m on it. It’s only blocks. I’ll get you close,” he replies. The driver calls dispatch to give his destination. He asks the operator what’s up.

  The operator replies, “Terrorists attacks in the London underground.”

  Anna can’t believe it. “What? This can’t be happening!”

  “Listen!” The cabby turns up the volume on CNN radio.

  The talk is fast, furious and filled with doomsday rhetoric. The cabby anticipating an imminent shut down flees the scene. He hops on the Westside Hwy and makes it to the terminal in record speed. Port Authority police, along with the NYPD with their bomb sniffing dogs, as well as the FDNY swarm the dock area.

  “Just ahead… you can’t miss it. Where you going?” the driver counts change for a twenty. “London, I think. Forget it. Keep the change. I’m just glad you got me here.”

  Anna tries to act nonchalantly and dismisses all misgivings about the taxi ride as good luck.

  As she attempts to enter the dock, one of New York’s finest raises a hand to halt,

  “Ticket please, and open your bag.”

  Anna’s heart is pounding. ‘What am I doing here?’ she wonders, while carefully lifting out the contents of the bag.

  The policeman then proceeds to do a body search. Satisfied that she is not a risk, he orders her, “Doc, you better get on board directly.”

  Anna takes heed and picks up the pace.

  ‘Where’s Ada? What if she’s not here? I wonder when the next plane leaves for the West Coast. Evacuation seems the order of the day. Suddenly I feel like Alice. The world looms large and I am shrinking, shrinking. This whole vibe is making me trippy.’

  Anna eyes the row of massive ocean liners. They tower some twelve and fifteen stories high. The girth of one spans more than a football field. Trying to ignore the apocalyptic news for a second, she focuses on the rows of cruise liners: the ‘Radisson Seven Seas,’ ‘Princess Cruise’, ‘Holland America,’ ‘Cunard,’ ‘Carnival,’ and ‘Norwegian Lines.’ Anna never heard of some; the ‘P& O Cruise Line,’ ‘Costa’ and ‘Crystal.’ Passing berth after berth, she frets that maybe the ship sailed already.

  “Where the hell is Pier 89?” She stops short with the realization that all the piers are even numbered. “Don’t tell me that I have the wrong number!”

  Anna takes out her cell phone to check Ada. It roams and roams searching for a connection.

  She thinks, “Yikes the phone is as lost as I am.”

  Anna is determined to meet destiny no matter what. People move quite steadily and quickly up and down the gangplanks of the monster ships. Out of the mêlée, she thinks she hears a familiar voice

  “Anna, over here!”

  It’s her Aunt Gemma decked out in a white suit with blue blouse and red kerchief.

  “Oh my Soul, Aunt Gemma is here. What is she doing here? ”

  Anna now sees Ada too.

  There is no chance of missing these two. They stand out in any crowd. They are the only two vibrant, ageless, classic beauties on the island of Manhattan. Ada and Gemma are, however, undoubtedly flustered. Wailing sirens make it hard to he
ar and focus. Gemma runs forward to embrace her niece and says,

  “Oh Anna look at you. I can’t believe that you are really here. But here you are. I’m so glad to see you. It’s been too, too long. Turn around. Let me look at you.”

  Gemma runs her long slim perfectly manicured fingers through Anna’s hair,

  “You’re all white now. But it suits you. You are ever so distinguished,”

  She embellishes her greeting with hugs and kisses.

  But in a flash she is back to the chaos about them, “Oh you poor thing. This attack on London could not have happen at a worst time.”

  Finally Anna replies, “Aunt Gemma, I’m so glad to see you too. And, Ada, I missed you. Look at the two of you. You are more beautiful than ever. I’m so glad you saw me. I was heading for the Hudson River. I got so lost in this melee. What’s really going on?”

  Ada is meticulously appointed. When she turned twenty-one she colored her hair blonde and remains so to this day. She sports the highly fashionable blunt cut. A pair of tight jeans accents her athletic but neat petite frame. She is wearing the Pelican Bay tee shirt Anna gave her the Christmas past. Anna’s first thought is that she looks like a real hayseed. She forgot what dressed for the occasion means here, just off Fifth Avenue.

  Then Anna notices that Ada has no luggage. She asks her sister, “Did you board already? How are the rooms? I’m so excited. We’ll have two whole weeks to catch up on the last thirty years. Are you coming too, Aunt? ”

  Ada with a grin as wide and bright as the New York skyline at night says “Let me give you a hug first. As for what’s going on, there is no cause for panic. Nothing is wrong here. It’s all in London. Bombs went off in four subway stations. A lot of people injured and thought dead. It’s too soon to say. I’m turning back. I can’t face that. ”

  Anna’s mind rewinds the last seventy-hours. “What? You’re not going. Well I’m not going either. This whole thing was about you and me.”