On the train

Stephan did something for Naval Intelligence, though what it was exactly none of us were ever sure. He came out of the Navy as an officer, in need of a job and looking after. Somebody, I think it was Paulie, got him a job on the railroad. So for a million years now he’s been a conductor, working late runs.

I saw him the other night, late coming out of Hoboken. He looked more like a ghost than he’s ever looked, which is saying something.

He took my ticket and didn’t acknowledge me. It wasn’t like the train was full of people or anything, but that’s Stephan.

Twenty minutes later he came back and sat down next to me.

“Train hit a deer last night,” he said, without any prelude. “Took the head right off. Still by the tracks. If you look carefully just after Mahwah, you’ll see it.”

“How you been, Stephan?” I asked.

“Mmmm,” he said, and got up.

I looked, but never saw the deer.