Page 24 of The Christmas Express
‘I’m Gwen.’
‘Ember.’
‘From England?’
‘Ember from England,’ I confirm.
‘I’m from Arizona. Been backpacking for months now, can’t get enough of it. I’m beat though.’
‘I can imagine.’ I like the sound of that, and want to hear more about Gwen, but she’s already closed her eyes again.
Right, what do I want out of my backpack that would be worth keeping in the seat-back pocket . . . I pull out a few essentials and settle in, dropping a message to my friends at home to let them know I’m on my way.
As the train picks up speed, a gentle rhythmic chug running underfoot which sways me back and forth, I let my eyelids soften. We’ll be out of the city soon, making our way through the forests of Ontario, and one thing I know that’ll calm my soul is the sight of endless spruce and pine trees.
Not long after we’ve set off, at right about the time I’m wondering if I could switch seats because Gwen is at it again with the snoring, my phone vibrates with a message from Cali.
Will you join us for lunch? Restaurant car at 1pm?
They’re making an effort, at least Cali is, but I don’t know if I’d rather she didn’t at this point. Can’t we just see each other in Vancouver?
However. What if this does turn into a second chance for Bryn and me? Then her friends will probably become my friends again. I should make an effort.
But just to be dropped again if anything goes wrong? I don’t know if I can invest myself again in friendships that can all disappear overnight.
‘What are you deep in thought about?’ Gwen asks. Turns out, she’s stopped snoring and is now regarding me over the top of her blanket.
‘Whether to meet some people on the train for lunch.’
‘Friends?’
‘Not really. You wanna come?’
‘Not really,’ she replies. ‘But you should go.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s lunch. Food is good. Company is good. Just say yes.’
I’m not used to someone telling me what to do these days. I weirdly kind of like it. So, with a heart full of here-goes-nothing, I reply with a see you there.
The restaurant car has a delicious smell of rich gravy and red wine, and my stomach growls as it remembers I haven’t had a proper meal since my street snacks in Toronto last night.
Sara is on her own at one of the tables of four, and I dither on the spot. Should I wait for Cali? She’s the one who invited me, after all. And I don’t think the others are exactly thrilled to have me along for the ride. But she looks up, puts down her phone, and her eyes flick from me to the chair opposite her.
‘Hey,’ I say, sitting down.
‘Hi. Cali’s in the toilet. The others will be here in a minute, probably.’
I’m surprised they didn’t walk down the train together, but whatever. Her comment about Cali awakens a small memory in me, of Cali and Bryn doubled over with laughter about some dumb joke I told, Cali shrieking that she was going to wet herself any minute. Then I think she did a little bit. It was kind of funny.
Beyond the window, tall trees of rich, emerald green whoosh by, their branches frosted with fresh snow. I can’t tell if it’s warm in the carriage, if it’s an illusion caused by looking at the snow, or if I’m just physically uncomfortable since I can’t think of anything to say.
‘Hi, how’s your compartment?’ Cali reappears from behind me and slots in the seat next to mine. She’s chirpy, acting like there’s nothing strange about me being here, or perhaps she’s just plastering over the insanity of the situation the only way she knows how.
‘It’s, um, nice. I’m just in a recliner seat though. I’m next to a nice lady.’
‘Oh. Well, that sounds nice,’ she agrees, and I get that sense again that she’s thinking, Don’t poke the bear, everyone remain calm.
