Once she had settled into her bird poop- and gum-free spot, it occurred to Tess that the child was no longer crying. Instead, the girl was sending her pigtails bopping with every hop in front of and behind the yellow line.

The yellow line was intended as a safety measure: passengers were not intended to get closer to the tracks than that. Tess grew a little nervous watching Pigtails jump back and forth over the line, even though no trains were around. She wondered if Mom even knew that was happening.

Tess dared a glance at the mother. Completely engrossed in her phone, the woman was unfazed by her daughter’s actions. The woman’s hair had fallen to the side of her face, blocking her view of Tess. Taking advantage of her invisibility, Tess studied her a little longer than she might have otherwise.

It was while Tess was distracted that it happened: movement in her peripheral vision that drew Tess’ gaze back toward the tracks, to where Pigtails had been just a moment before and no longer was.

Trying not to seem too invested in the child, Tess looked subtly left and right without spinning in circles and checking under the bench like she wanted to. She only needed to look for about a half second before the all-too-known screaming started up again. And it was coming from the tracks.

That’s when Mom finally looked up and removed wireless earbuds Tess hadn’t noticed before.

Up on her Louboutin’s, Mom clutched her phone, throwing the earbuds in her purse as she click-clacked to the yellow line that had been her child’s playmate. Leaning over the edge of the platform, she looked down at the tracks. Tess’ heart rate increased. With Mom’s back to her, she finally spun like she had wanted to earlier, this time in search of any oncoming trains. She saw none.

Turning back to the tracks, Tess wondered if she should help the mom. She stood up, then felt as if she should wait for some reason.

Lifting her hands up and dropping them back to her sides in agitation, the mom popped one hip to the side and yelled downward, “Why do you always do this to me? You’re always causing so much damn trouble.”

The cries increased, coupled with a new, drawn out, plea for help in the form of one word: “Mommy”.

“No! You know what? Get yourself out of there. Maybe then you’ll finally learn your lesson.”

The cries turned to sobs and the mom turned around to head back to the bench. As she took her first step, she saw Tess, standing still while she watched from a couple benches away. The mom froze. Tess didn’t know if she recognized her, but she could immediately tell that the mom hadn’t known Tess was there until that very moment.

They stood there like two of Medusa’s victims, making eye contact that impressed Tess by making her even more uncomfortable than their last bout of eye contact, with Pigtails screaming in the background. Then, as the screams broke for Pigtails to breathe in, the only sound worse than her cries: the horn of an oncoming train.

Tess and mother broke eye contact as their heads swiveled to the train approaching on the tracks where Pigtails lay. It was coming in fairly slowly, but only slowly enough if they both acted now.

By the time Tess reached the edge of the platform, the mother had already searched her surroundings for stairs or a magically appearing ladder. Neither were present.

In a timeliness that surprised Tess, the mother was on her butt on the edge of the platform in her soon-to-no-longer-be-spotless slacks, from where she jumped onto the ground next to her daughter. Immediately understanding the mom’s intentions, Tess dropped to her belly and reached down.

If Pigtails was still crying, no one noticed. There was only the train horn, its nearing headlight, and everyone’s quickened pulse.

With Mom lifting her daughter just above her head, Tess was able to get a sufficient grip around Pigtails’ waist. Rolling to her side, she hoisted the child to the platform, looked her square in the eye and said, “Go sit on the bench and wait.” Tess watched only for the first two steps of mini winter boots in the correct direction before turning back onto her stomach.

Glancing at the train, Tess saw no conductor in the front window, no one to stop the train, no one to give them more time.

And no one to witness.

Thinking back on it later, Tess would be surprised at how many thoughts she had been able to have in that one second.

No one would know. That was Tess’ first thought as she laid there, considering these unreal events as they unfolded.

No conductor, no security cameras, and no other passengers on the platform except a five year old who was too far away to see and too young to know what was best for her.

The second thought was wishing Chance were here. Not for his comfort or his help or even advice, but for the law. She wanted to know how the law could potentially hurt or help her in this situation. She wanted to know what would happen to Pigtails with no mother.

Looking back down beneath her, she watched the mom struggle with a few footholds in her heels. The mom looked up, reached out her hand, and then they made their worst eye contact of all.

Human communication is incredible. So little of it is the communication we’re directly taught: language and words and writing. So much of it is facial expressions and gestures, or even that something else, that gut instinct, that feeling you get when someone says they’re okay, but you know they’re not.

Then there are the eyes, always the eyes. The windows to the soul, betrayers of secrets, allies of honesty, and mirror of our own shortcomings.

In the mirror of Tess’ eyes, the mother saw herself as Tess saw her: an excuse of a parent, undeserving of second chances. She saw Tess calculating, and realized the lens through which the next moments, and her life, were being considered. In return, Tess saw herself in the mother’s eyes, in the despair that could only be caused by a monster of equal terror.

Tess clasped the mom’s forearm in a two hand grip. Between Tess’ support and the foothold, the mother launched herself high enough to reach the top of the platform with her other hand. Glancing once more at the train, Tess’ heart sank at how close it all of a sudden was. Fear that her momentary hesitation was about to make an orphan of Pigtails shot through her as she grabbed the mom’s coat. Together, they pulled her up onto the platform at the moment the train came whooshing by. A sickening crunch folded Tess’ stomach as she desperately searched Mom’s face for a clue of pain. The mother revealed nothing of the sort, but instead sat on the yellow line, catching her breath, staring at her feet, one of which wore a dirty heel and the other of which was bare.

As the train finally began to slow, Pigtails came running over to her mother, embracing her neck. Mom allowed it.

The train doors opened like an escape vehicle right in front of the three survivors. Tess and the mother got to their feet. The mother held Pigtails’ hand as they followed Tess onto the train.

Tess stayed standing, holding onto the pole in the middle of the floor, while Pigtails and the mom took a seat. A few other seats were taken around the car, but no one else was standing.

The mom took off her one shoe and held it in both her hands, staring at it. Tess watched, subtly pouring over every inch of both of them, making sure they were both okay. She was in the middle of visually checking every single one of Pigtails’ fingers on her left hand when she noticed the mom look away from the lonely Louboutin and up to Tess for one more moment of eye contact.

A man sitting directly behind the mom burst into laughter at something on his phone. Still a little jumpy, the mom checked behind her, then slowly brought her eyes back to Tess. She searched Tess’ eyes for answers Tess didn’t have. Then she searched for them on the floor.

The first stop came. The doors opened. Taking one hand off the shoe in her lap, the mom reached for Pigtails’ hand.

“Let’s go.”

Mom and Pigtails exited the train. Tess watched as the doors closed behind them, realizing that Pigtails was no longer in danger of dying, but still needed to be saved. They walked towards the stairs of the platform and Tess gripped the pole as the train lurched forward. Pigtails looked back at Tess and Tess looked at her for the split second she was still in sight, fighting the reality that she couldn’t do anything else to help her.

As Tess’ view changed to cement walls covered in graffiti inside a tunnel, she took a breath and started checking herself for dirt or injuries. Her torso felt a little raw where she had pressed against the platform while pulling two people off the train tracks. She wiped the dirt off her pants and sat down. She took out her phone and pulled up her text conversation with Chance.

Unsure what to tell him, her mind spiraled, wondering if she had not saved Pigtails at all, but only condemned her to a longer, crueler suffering. Then the worst realization of all came to her: she would never know.

No one would know. That was Tess’ thought as she sat there, considering this child’s future, which she had just altered. No one could ever know whether Pigtails would be alright or if it would have been better for her to be run over by a train at the age of five or if she would have fared better losing her mother and going into the system.

She thought about the mountains then, wishing she were there now. She imagined a trickling creek and green ferns and marveled at the purity of the dirt, unsoiled by greed or resentment. In her imagination, she heard the clear chirp of birds in spring and felt the cold breeze drifting down from the still-frozen summit. She basked in the warmth of the sun whose light was unconditional, a creation incapable of abandonment.

Focusing back on the present, she directed her attention to her phone. She typed out the foremost thought in her head. She proofread it, then read it again. She pressed, “Send”. The message popped up in her current conversation thread with Chance and she reread it once more.

Thinking about how we both want one kid… maybe we should consider adoption.

She couldn’t save Pigtails, but maybe she could save someone else.