I’m sitting on this train; the seat is old mohair, the waitress has a demure look upon her face as she offers me something to eat. I feel important in this worn red seat, in this car of a train, among people who are just like me, who all look like life has taken just a little too much out of them. Their faces pale, their eyes lack every thing but apathy. No, there is plenty of that to go around. But the carved wood that frames the interior, and the smell that is stuck in the carpet, the smell of many thousand tired feet over many thousand miles, all eager to get to their destination, it all runs together and gives me pleasure, because while I don’t have any one destination in mind right now, I still feel important in an out-dated mode of transportation.
Wednesday Night
I always thought that people gave off noise, no matter what. Your body just hummed no matter how quiet you were trying to be. Because, even when everyone is sleeping, the house is louder than if they were all gone. My mother was one of the loudest people I've ever met. She was small and gentle, but she filled every room she walked into. Even in the months leading up to before we had to leave her, my sister and I, she always pulled everyone together with the vivacity that poured from her. This woman that was behind me in the ticket line, looked just like her; her smile gave off a radiance that could cook like a convection oven, and her hair was messy, pulled into a pile on the back of her head. Maybe we will have a nice encounter. She looks like interesting company. And that's the point of traveling, right?
I only had one suitcase, so I kept it with me rather than storing it elsewhere. The woman seemed to have five or six, and was giving detailed instructions to the smaller of the two conductors at the station about how her luggage should be transported. Watching this made me giggle. On the train there were only twain handfuls of people, all shuffled about the seats, none of them wanting to be near anybody else. Being that it was well passed sunset, close to midnight nearly, the thin moonlight coming in from the windows didn't do much to light up their faces, and neither did the crude sconces that lined the inside of the passenger car. Walking through the tight corridor, I see that all the cabin doors are unmarked. My ticket just says "cabin"; there is no character to denounce which one has been assigned to me. "Excuse me, which cabin is mine?" I hand my ticket to a found conductor walking the aisles.
"Oh, whichever is open. It doesn' really matter. Just make sure to put the white card on the other doorknob.""For what?""So people know that it's occupied."
"Oh, yes. Thank you, then."His smile looks plastic-y and forced. He is one of those people that perfectly fits the job they are preforming. I look down at his name-tag, and it reads 'Kyle'. His name even fits his face, with the sputters of juvenile blonde hair that accent it. He walks away and his red coat is stuck over his bubble-butt. I'm not sure I like Kyle, and I hope he doesn't end up being apart of my trip.
I guess that I can pick any cabin, so I open each door, and try to find the one that smells the most pleasant. They all look the same inside; a loft bed, a couch that hangs on the opposite wall, and a door to a "bathroom", if you care to call it that. The third one from the end smells decent, dusty, like the binding of a thrift-store romance novel, and I trust that smell. The door clicks when I close it, and the springs in the couch against the wall give an angry squeak when I put my suitcase upon it. It's too quiet to sleep, so I crack the window to listen to the wind being sucked into the small room once the train is put into motion. My pants drop off my waist, and I strip of my shirt as well as my glasses, and set them all next to my suitcase. I find an alcove for my shoes to sleep in, and climb up to the bed, but slip and fall on my ass. I'm glad I'm not sharing the room with anyone. My second attempt is successful, but just as offensive as the first, with my butt in the air and my arms straining to pull up my body weight. Maybe in the morning I will find something to step on.
As I lie in the dark, I can't hear much but footsteps, with the exception of a voice. It's feminine, and I hope it's my woman. I wonder what cabin she picked, and what it smells like, and where she put her clothes or does she sleep in them? I get sweaty when I sleep in my clothes.
Thursday
The air coming in from the cracked window runs over the wall and on top of my feet. It tickled me awake, just in time to catch something to eat in the diner car. I look over the pillow to see that my clothes are still where I left them, as well as my shoes. Before I slip everything back on, I shut the window to stop anymore cold air from coming in, then leave my cabin to scavenge for something to eat. When I get to where I came in, it seems as though all the people sitting in seats are still there, like they haven't moved since last night. Kyle, as well as a darker looking version of Kyle, are walking around. Kyle looks vigilant, but his darker version looks bored and a little halfhearted with his un-buttoned conductor coat and uncombed hair. I like Darker Kyle.
The train is large, but I only have to walk through two cars to get to where the food is served. There are bagels and doughnuts adorned on a silver cart in the middle of all the tables, and I wriggle through all the empty chairs over to it. There is a cough from the back corner of the car that's emitting from the throat of an older gentleman in a suit coat, but no pants. Across from him is a portly woman in a dead looking fur coat. They are both reading a section from a newspaper probably a week old, and doing their best not to look at each other. I'm going to assume they have been long married. Besides them and myself, the dining car is empty. I look down at my watch and see both hands are lined up on the seven, which is upsetting. I could have gotten a couple more hours of sleep before I had to get up. Damn window. Though upset, something big and white catches my eye on the silver cart. It is a doughnut half the size of my head, and in the side there is a little hole with red around it. I can only assume this mark implies that this pastry has been stuffed full of red-flavoured jelly. I can't resist it, and take a seat by a wide window.
Halfway through my doughnut, "You have good taste, guy." It's Darker Kyle!"What makes you say that?""I was saving that for myself.""Oh! I'm sor--"
"It's fine, guy. We get a box or two every time we stop in Stratford. Don't sweat it." I'm charmed by Darker Kyle's face. His smile gives me the impression that even though he is a lowly conductor on a half-empty train, he is still plowing some chick at least twice a week. I wish I had thought to look at his name tag. I look down and the rest of my doughnut is gone. I must have shoved it into my mouth when I wasn't looking. My watch tells me it's eight on the nose now. I sit in the vinyl seat and think about what to do for the next fifteen hours awake on the train. I come to the conclusion that my only options are Read or Sleep, so I head back and dig through my suitcase for one of the books that I packed. Rabbit, Run falls into my hand, and I can't resist anything by Updike.
***
My feet are tickled again, and my face is met with a wet puddle of discarded spit when I roll over. The top half of me jumps up in recoil, but my eyes are met with another pair, and I lay back down as fast as gravity will let me. "Excuse me?"
"... Yeah?""There is a big group of people boarding the train now, and we have to double up in the cabins. I was in the one next door, and I thought maybe it would be easiest if we just shared. Is that okay? I'll sleep on the couch."
"Uh, yeah. That sounds good." It's the woman, and I'm not sure what just happened. I think she tickled me awake."So, I'm just going to grab my bags, and we'll figure out what to do from there. Yeah?"
"Yeah."And she is gone again in a rush. I expect her to pop around the corner right away, but she does not. She came and left so fast, I didn't have time to look at what she was wearing, or to study how her hair falls against her shoulders. The light coming in through the black framed window was tinted orange. I was upset that I had slept so long. It was almost ridiculous.
"Hi, again!" She was dragging four pieces of over-stuffed luggage behind her. They were all a misty shade of pink, except for one that was a beaten brown leather. It was held shut with wide straps that buckled near the handles. "The conductors at the station just would not understand how to store my luggage, and I thought I was making the instructions quite clear, but I," I was frightened that her mouth would never stop moving. I like how that complimented my distaste for conversation.
"What do the initials stand for?""Huh?""On that suitcase. LFR?""Oh, it was my great-grandfather's. After he died, my family went and picked through his house like goats. I was nine at the time, and when I came across this I figured it would have some kind of treasure in it or something."
"Was there?""Old train stubs and a sock, if that counts treasure." She had a subtle sense of humor. Her voice didn't match the way she looked at all, but it was easy to listen to. It had the same tones as a clarinet, and flowed just as smoothly. "So, I'll take the couch?"
"If you really want it.""I suppose it's better than the floor." I wanted to invite her to share the bed. It was bigger than a twin, so it wouldn't be crowded, but I feared that she would take it the wrong way, and find some other stranger to bunk with. "Do you want to catch something to eat? It's the perfect time for dinner."
"Yeah, that sounds delightful.""Delightful? I've never heard someone use that term to describe train food before.""Is that bad?""Not if you like train food, I guess."
When she whipped out of the room, her hair flew behind her. I would describe it as short, but it concealed the whole of her neck. The colour of it seemed to fit her personality a tad too well, and I wondered if she dyed it.
"So, what are you going to get?" Her nose was buried in the tiny plastic menu. "Nothing looks all that appetizing.""Soup?""On a train?"
"Good point." She always makes good points. "What about a sandwich? It's hard to screw up a sandwich.""You make a good argument, sir." Even after we had decided on food, she continued to glare at the options. Her eyes darted all over the place, not in flowing lines.
"Aw, here comes Kyle.""Hm?""You see that conductor over to the left, kind of behind me?" Kyle was pushing around the silver cart that holds all the food he is delivering. He looked like a proud new mother pushing a pram with the stupid grin carved into his high cheekbones and his gleeful posture. God, I hate, Kyle.
"Oh, him? I hate that kid." I'm glad she agrees!"We should make fun of him when he comes over here.""What do you mean?""Here, shush, just watch. He's coming over now."
"How are you two tonight?" Oh, the tone in his voice makes me want to punch a chicken."Just, fuckin' terrible!" His mouth was stuck open like a hyperventilating cat, searching his brain for a response.
"I-I'm sorry to hear that, sir. Have uh, h-have you decided on anything to eat?""How-""Do you have anything on that faggy cart of yours that doesn't fucking suck, Kyle?" She interrupted me with this. I have to say, I was proud of her.
"I-I'm just going to... leave this h-here, for you t-two, and come back later." And that's how we got rid of Kyle. He is smug and deserves it."How did you come up with that?"
"My gramma was senile before she passed, and whenever we went out to eat with her, the waiter always got a full serving of shit from her. I'm beginning to think she was faking it though. Screwing with people is a ton of fun."
"What kind of sandwich would you like?""Whatever you get is fine.""Does cake sound good too?""Yes, ma'm.""Should we take this back to the cabin?"
"I don't think we're allowed to do that.""I don't think we were allowed to fuck with Kyle.""You never make a bad point.""I know."
***
"You're getting crumbs everywhere!""Well, I'm sleeping on the couch, so it shouldn't matter to you.""What if I ride this train again, and pick this cabin, and there are mould spores everywhere because of your bread crumbs?"
"Then I guess you'll get very sick." God, she was witty and I loved talking with her. I wanted to smell her; get it stuck in my nose. Ask her about her life and watch her graceful hand gestures illustrate her stories. "Do you mind if I get my pajamas on?"
"No, go right ahead. You can use the closet.""You mean the bathroom?""It's really more of a closet.""You are so..." Oh, the tension is killing me. Pajama choice says so much about a person. Does she wear a nightgown? A full ensemble? I don't know. I was going to take this time to get into my own pajamas and try to get up into bed before she saw my ugly attempt at doing so. Her luggage is in the corner, but I don't want to step on it, and my one bag isn't going to help. I guess I just have to heave up there again.
"What are you doing?" My back stung as it hit the floor. She startled me so bad, I lost my grip on the bed frame."I'm trying to get up into the bed before you see.""Why don't you use the steps?" And low and behold, like magic, she pulled out a set of two metal steps that were attached to the underside of the bed.
"That's a good question. Hm, are you done eating?""Yeah, I think I'm going to lay down and read if you don't mind.""I was thinking of doing the same thing, actually." I wasn't. I had wanted to just talk with her. And actually, I just wanted her to listen. Nobody has ever really wanted to listen to me. I've been the background noise in everyone's live as long as I can remember. I suppose it's my own fault, not being assertive. I guess that's maybe why I turned to the written world, but not with her. She seemed caring, and attentive. Like a good listener. You have to be a good listener to be a good talker, right? Or however that goes. I don't know, but I do know I really like this woman. She is kind, and fun, and she reads! I wonder if she likes cats or not. I wonder where she lives, where she grew up, what her parents are like, all the stupid cliché things you want to know about a charming woman. Goodness, her pajamas. I almost forgot. She is wearing a light top that's the colour of a ripe peach, and navy shorts with two pockets that are sewn on the outside. She looks comfortable and beautiful and so lost in her book. I don't know how long I have been staring at her, but it's been at least good hour. The sun has set, and yellow light from the crude sconces outside are flooding in from under the door.
"I'm getting tired. Do you mind if I turn the light off now?""That's fine. We both should sleep now." Damn, I wish I was more assertive. I don't want to sleep! I want to know you as well as I know myself. I'm so frusterated with my lack of balls, I probably won't sleep much tonight anyway.
"Are you still awake?""Uh, yeah. Why?""Can I sleep with you? The couch-thing is a lot less comfortable than it looks.""... That's fine, yeah." Oh. I don't know what to do. I'm as dumbfounded as Kyle right now. "Do you need another blanket?"
"No, I'm fine. Thank you though." Her body is so warm. I can feel her heart beat through the mattress. Last time I slept even in the same room as a woman was with my sister when we were kids. Her presence, her right next to me is the most comforting thing I've experienced. I don't-- I don't even know her name.
"What's your name?""I go by Ellie." After she said this, she rolled over and put her head in the space under mine; pushed her hand across my chest, and fell asleep. Her breathing became very steady, her body stayed just as warm. I sat there for a couple minutes, and matched my breathing to hers. In and out. In and out. She smelled earthy, but clean. Like if you stay up all night to catch the sunrise. That's what it reminded me of. I hope it's stuck in my nose now.
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