July 30, 2002 | 2:49 PM

Here�s a story. Pre-SAGA

So way back when.

Spring of 1996.

On the train to Rochester, me a starry silly eighteen year old with a mouth like a sailor and a drinking habit to match.

It was after midnight. I was playing 500 rummy with a terminal alcoholic in the lounge car. I gave him cigarettes and he bought me whiskey. It was a fair trade.

His hands shook and he was tearing up as he spoke about losing custody of his daughter.

She was right to do it. I was a drunk. A stinkin� goddamn drunk and I wasn�t any kinda good father.

He slurred and slurped his drink. I nodded sympathetically and squeezed his hand.

He in turn reached under the table and squeezed my knee.

Swatting him away, I pulled an ace from the pile and added it to his three already spread across the table.

I gulped my shot triumphantly and slammed the glass on the formica table between us.

I�m out. I won.

He nodded and his eyes closed. He was passing out.

I didn�t want to spend the rest of the night staring at some poor pervert codger snoozing away. I wanted to be entertained. Amused. I promised myself I�d check up on Sir Snores-A-Lot every once in awhile to make sure he was OK

I stood up to see if there was anyone else around who might be worth talking to. My eyes surfed a sea of cigarette smoke and washed up on the face of a serious, sad looking man.

He was tall and skinny as a rail with sandy brown hair and two days worth of stubble. His face was at once delicate and sharp with more angles than the hope diamond.

And his eyes were cobalt blue.

He caught my gaze and anticipation rippled up my spine.

Then he turned away.

Too bad. I thought to myself as I watched him wander over to the bar.

Everyone else in the lounge car was either old and gray, or young and fratty. I felt distinctly out of place and was about to gather my bags and return to my regular seat.

When I glanced up who was standing above me but the man with the diamond face and the blazing blue eyes. He had a drink in each hand.

What�s your poison? he asked, nodding toward my shot glass.

My throat was scratchy and my voice suddenly horse.

Scotch.

He set one of the drinks down in front of me.

Well, now you�re drinking a gin and tonic.

I didn�t argue. I picked up the glass with both hands and gulped even though I�ve never liked gin.

I made a face and the man laughed. He sat down next to me and we stared at each other for a moment.

My name�s Charlie.

My name�s Anna.

Charlie gestured over to the old drunk snoring across from me.

Who�s Sleeping Beauty? Your dad?

I snorted.

He�s not my dad. And I don�t know his name.

Charlie leaned in towards me.

Well how would your dad feel about you drinking with an old coot like that?

I was annoyed.

I don�t know. He�s dead.

Who? That guy? Or your dad?

I stared at my dirty fingernails.

My dad.

Charlie sipped his drink casually.

I�m sorry to hear that. How old were you when he died?

Twelve.

He nodded.

I was thirteen when my mom died. Cancer.

We stared at each other for a beat.

I�m sorry about your mother.

Yeah, well. Them�s the breaks, right?

We drank silently.

He bought another round. And another.

I felt my cheeks flush and my head swim. I giggled lazily as Charlie eyed me.

So you were twelve when your dad died. How old are you now?

Guess.

I�m bad at guessing ages. Plus, what if I�m wrong and you get mad? Just tell me.

I�m eighteen.

Charlie raised a brow and said sarcastically,

So I am aiding and abetting the drunkenness of someone below the legal age?

Apparently.

Charlie snorted.

Well, I�ll be.

I cocked my head and smirked.

So, Charlie. How old are you?

A smiled crawled across his face.

I, my dear, am much older than eighteen. I can�t even remember eighteen. But then again, who can?

My speech had grown sloppy and my words ran into each other like chalk drawings in the rain.

But how much older than eighteen are you Charlie? Why don�t you wanna tell me. Afraid I won�t sleep with you if I know the truth?

Charlie threw back his head and laughed.

I�m thirty-five.

I feigned disbelief.

You�re serious?

As a heart attack.

I stirred the remaining ice in my glass.

So Charlie. Tell me all about yourself. Tell me what you do

What I do?

Yeah. Tell me what you do.

Oh, you mean for a living, right? Like what�s my job?

Yeah, I guess.

He opened his mouth to speak and I interrupted.

Wait. Don�t tell me if it�s boring. If it�s boring, make something up.

Charlie smiled.

I�m a captain.

Of a space ship?

No. Of industry.

I giggled.

And what about you, Anna-belle-lee?

That�s Poe, right?

Well done.

I paused, wondering what to tell him.

I�m on my way home for break. I�m in college.

Really? How shocking.

I rolled my eyes.

Oh shut up.

Let me get us another drink, OK?

That, Charlie is the best idea I�ve ever heard.

Charlie walked over to the bar and I stared at the sad old man passed out across from me. He'd mentioned a daughter and I wondered how old she was, when the last time he�d seen her had been.

When Charlie arrived back with our cocktails, he set them on the table before whispering in my ear,

So. Here�s the question of the day Anna. Now that you know how old I am, do you still want to sleep with me?

I threw back my head and rocked with laughter.

Just give me my god damned drink, Charlie.

He slid it over and it disappeared beyond my lips.

We looked at each other for a long time, waiting to see who would blink first.

Stay tuned for tomorrow�s exciting conclusion...