Page 27 of The Christmas Express
Every one of them now looks as uncomfortable as I feel, so that’s something. Drinks are covering lips, eyes are blinking rapidly, seats are creaking as they’re shuffled in, the grate of forks on plates is the only sound over the rail lines.
Okay, I’m clearly on the right path and something’s amiss. I wonder what happened.
Our main course of pasta arrives, which gives us all a reason to not feel weird about not speaking.
Until Cali swallows a massive forkful of linguine and splurts out, ‘What’s your girlfriend’s name?’
We all look at Luke.
‘Barbara,’ he replies, concentrating on his pasta.
‘How long have you two been an item?’
‘A couple of years.’
‘Ember, how’s your seat?’ Joss halts the conversation just as it’s getting juicy by bending around Cali to look at me.
‘It’s fine.’ Why does she suddenly care?
‘Are you going to be alright sleeping there?’ Cali asks, all concerned, and it twists in my tummy a little. Where was that concern when I suddenly lost all the friends I had? Where was that concern when my parents passed away only months later? At least Bryn sent flowers, but Cali and the rest of them just ignored it . . .
I don’t know. Sometimes I can talk myself out of these feelings, tell myself I’m being selfish, entitled, centred on myself, but other times it flares up like a red wine blush.
‘I’ll sleep fine.’ I nod.
Joss pipes up again, her voice both low and just-loud-enough at the same time. ‘Course she will, she can escape into her deluded little Bryn-themed dreamland.’
‘Christ, Joss. When did—’ Cali stops herself, which makes me look at her, and she presses her lips together.
‘When did what?’ Joss snaps.
‘Just . . . when did you get so mean?’
‘I’m not mean. She’s on her way to ruin our friend’s wedding. And any minute now you’ll no doubt be offering her a bed that Bryn herself paid for. I’m not mean, I’m just loyal. Where’s your loyalty?’
Sara chuckles and mutters, ‘Friend.’ I don’t know why, but she keeps an amused smirk on her face as she slips down her shades and sips on her wine.
‘I am loyal!’ Cali’s voice raises a notch and at the end of the restaurant car I see the server look over.
Joss scoffs and shakes her head.
‘What was that for?’
‘You know.’
‘Oh my God . . .’
‘Excuse me,’ I cut in, addressing Joss, but also the whole group. ‘I don’t need your loyalty, I don’t need any of you to do anything for me, or to be my friends again. Just do whatever you want to do, and I’ll do me.’
Enough of this bullshit. I stand and edge out past Cali, giving her a small smile as I go. At least she’s being civil.
Out in the aisle I straighten my sweatshirt, my eyes down, and when they lift, there’s somebody blocking my way.
‘Hi,’ the woman says, a smile melting out over her face like pooled honey, revealing neat teeth, dimples, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.
‘Hi,’ I reply, our eyes meeting for a second. She glances down at the two tables, where the rest of them are seated in that thick, heated stillness that comes after an argument. As her head turns, her ear constellation glitters under the overhead lights like the snow outside the train.
In those seconds, I scan my eyes over her face, before clearing my throat and pointing past her. ‘Excuse me, I’m just . . .’
