Page 13 of Changed Plan

We stand in front of the train doors, and it occurs to me that we are the only ones waiting on this pointless train between gates with no departures or arrivals. For a moment, I think it may not be running since all the planes are grounded, but then the train comes into view.

The doors open, and I step aside to let her enter first. There is no one else inside either. This seems dystopian at first glance, but then, like a gift when I realize I get to be completely alone with her for a little while with no background noise of an overcrowded airport, just the automated announcements at our unnecessary stops.

Who knows where all we might go before this night ends?

5

Darby

When in Rome

Teenagemedidnotride trains in airports for fun, but something about this feels very teenlike, nonetheless. As a rule, I don’t do whimsical. And it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything so alone with, and in such close proximity to, a complete stranger.

I’m probably making way too much out of two adults, who happen to enjoy each other’s company, just trying to stave off boredom. Teen me would be rolling her eyes so hard at how tame this is. But she had no reason not to be wild and spontaneous, nothing to lose.

Even back then, I knew I was going to be different someday. I knew I’d eventually settle down and take life seriously because I was determined to have something to lose, a life filled with things I loved—things I’d worked for and that were all mine.

I finally have that life, and now, it’s all on the line. My savings won’t last long. Things were just starting to feel comfortable. I need a job. I have to have a job.

When the train doors open, I walk in and stop next to a pole that I can hold on to. Zane goes to the back of the car and sits. “Why would you stand when there are seats available?” he asks. “All the seats are available.”

“Habit. I just stop at the first open spot, usually the one that’s closest to the door.”

“Step away from the door and come sit with me. After all, I booked this whole train just for us.”

“Are you saying you don’t own your own train?” I sit next to him.

“Not even a plane.”

“Oh, God. I didn’t know you were poor.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

“I guess I won’t be leaving Rome with any new jewelry.”

“Don’t worry. I’m an accomplished jewel thief.”

“You should know if you get arrested in Rome, I’m not good for bail money. I will leave you there.”

“Oh, I’d never expect you to get involved. I’ll break out and catch up to you.”

“Wow. No one has ever offered to bust out of prison for me before. That’s so romantic.” My stomach clenches immediately after I say romantic. I’m not looking for romance in the airport. Or anywhere else.

He stretches his long legs out in front of him and casually lays his arm across my shoulder like it’s no big deal. Like we’re a real couple.

My first instinct is to object, but he’s solid and steady, and being so close to him keeps my body from swaying with every dip or curve of the train. People who are just friends literally lean on each other all the time. It’s no big deal.

“Where all have you traveled?” he asks.

“I’ve never been anywhere that requires a passport.”

“Do you have one?”

“Yeah, but I just got it a few months ago. Haven’t had a chance to use it yet.” I always hate admitting that I haven’t traveled outside the US, but I don’t feel ashamed or insecure about having told him. Maybe it’s because we’re pretending about so much right now. Dropping that bit of honesty just sort of blends in. It could be my truth or part of my act, right?

“If you want tips about anywhere when you’re ready to break it in, I’m happy to share anything I know. Not that I’ve been everywhere.”

“But you’ve been a lot of places.”

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