The man, who entered the train-carriage I was in on Saturday, was not my ex-boyfriend - my ex-boyfriend being someone I would not want to encounter again. But the man, who placed himself just a few feet from where I was standing, looked a hell of a lot like him. There was enough of a resemblance to cause some adrenaline to flow into existence. With my back to him, and with some degree of sun-glasses enhanced anonymity, I was able to study his reflection in the glass of the train door. Visually and methodically, I assessed the man's exterior, then I searched my memory for my ex's salient features and attempted to age them 12 years. I compared my imaginary photofit with the train-man:
The train-man is somewhat heavier and grey-haired than my ex was the last time I saw him, but time and mid-4os will allow for such changes. Apart from some extra lines, his face seems almost unchanged. Perhaps his mouth is shaped a little differently, his nose slightly longer, and he seems taller than I remember - but these alterations are not so great that they can't be explained by the inconsistencies and subjectivity of memory. But it is his eyes which raise my dread (it's always the eyes!). My ex's eyes - which, at times, emitted warmth, and at other times, menace - were pale blue-grey, with distinctive, slightly hooded eye-lids. Train-man has the same eyes!
So I kept the man in my sight. Until either he or I alighted from the train, he would be subject to my surveillance. Thankfully, he didn't notice me. Like many train travellers, he had entered the 'zone-out' mode - identifiable by the 'absent gaze' - wherein the person is either day-dreaming, engaged in gentle thinking, or semi-conscious. I couldn't tell which was applicable in the case of the train-man, but the more I studied him, the more it became apparent that he seemed pretty chilled. Chilled???
Hmm...'chilled' doesn't easily fit with how I'd imagined my ex would be 12 years after we broke up. At age 33 he was paranoid, controlling, and fairly angry and cynical at the world. As much as I had empathy for why he was the way he was - a pretty rough childhood - I couldn't be his partner; he was too dangerous. I thought that by his mid-40s he would either be in gaol or dead. I would've found it hard, back then, to believe that 12 years later he could have such a relaxed gaze, as well as such healthy-looking skin (he was a heavy-ish smoker whose skin had already begun to look a little sallow). And an internal calm. I was beginning to doubt that the train-man was my ex.
Finally, the train arrived at Flinders Street Station, where both the man and myself exited, along with almost everyone else on the train. The man was in front of me, so I was able to observe him as he headed east, towards the Flinders Street exit. I headed west, towards the Elizabeth Street exit. With some relief, my surveillance had ended.
I'm mostly convinced, now, upon reflection, that the man wasn't my ex. If it was him, it was an incredible transformation. I want to believe that it was him, though - to know that he was able to get himself together after all this time would be cause for some happiness. I think this is why I don't want to say for sure that it wasn't him, for that would still leave open the possiblity that my ex is either in gaol or dead.
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