A Bench near the edge

May 18th, 2001.South Station, Boston, Train side, early evening. A woman appeared at the end of the platform as promised. She wore a gray rain coat, big black dark sun glasses and red lipstick. Slender legs peaked out from the folds of the coat as she walked. She carried a little blue suitcase and wheeled a larger bag behind her. She looked Mediterranean, perhaps Spanish or Portuguese. She stopped in front of me and reached into her pocket. She took out a nickel plated flask and sipped, and patted her mouth dry with her sleeve. I stepped towards her.  She was French, of course.
The platform shook like a little earthquake as a train arrived. Paper trash fluttered off the track and back down. The train hissed.
I looked at her and watched her drink " I miss doing that" I said
She wiped her mouth this time with her hand. Her fingernails were polished. She held the flask out to me and smiled "been a while for you has it?" If I ever had any doubt as to whether or not I loved her it was settled at that moment. I did not.
Then she said the strangest thing I think I have ever heard. "What if I told you that fear isn't real?" The old familiar odor emanated from the flask's silver spout. I looked up at the clouds. Droplets of rain sprinkled my forehead.
" A man without fear is a man without hope." I said
" Nietzsche or Freud?" she asked
I laughed at myself. I looked at her face to face now, and she was beautiful.
"Father Everett" I answered.
She inched her hand along my arm and into my hand.
"Just be here and now. Forget about the past." she said softly, soothingly.
I reached and took off her black sun glasses. I was reminded of the day we met.
" I once spent a year in Philadelphia; I think it was on a Sunday"
"Groucho?" she guessed?
"Close" I said, "W.C. Fields"
" Philadelphia was a long time ago" She said and eased her body snugly under my arm. We walked to a bench and sat there near the edge. She placed her blue suit case down and opened an umbrella. She handed the umbrella to me and I held it above us. It was a complicated operation: umbrella, flask and french girl. Water beaded on the rails then spilled onto the gravel rocks between the tracks.
"How is he?" I asked
She rested her head on my shoulder and sighed.
" He is distant, distracted, self centered, gambles and spends time at Japanese massage parlors, and thinks that I don't know, and....he is my husband now" She said
"Glad to know some things haven't changed" I said
"And you, how have been your last 2 years?" She asked
She opened her blue suit case. Inside I viewed lace panties, and a full bottle which she used to refill the flask.
"I don't know how my last 2 years have been but judging by what's in your bag my next 2 hours are looking promising."
"She paused and said, "my train is leaving in 20 minutes"
"Then, maybe not"
"Why the Move to New York?"
"There is a position he took, entry level at a Firm" She said...."You should call him there, he'd like that..I'd like that."
"We haven't talked since Atlantic City, but maybe I will. Good for him, I'm glad for him, really...His dreams are coming true..what is the name of the firm? Have I heard of them?" She rested her head against my shoulder and then turned and kissed my cheek. "It has an Irish name like the Gatsby writer." She said..two names..I thought for a moment ...."Cantor-Fitzgerald?" ...."Oui. That's is the one." She pecked my cheek as we watched people board. "I will miss you, she said..and you know, he will too." "Perhaps." I said