Page 31 of The Christmas Express
‘Hello again,’ I say. She’s at the front of the carriage, the best seats in the house, and she rests her arm on the seat behind her to look back at me.
‘Hey, you.’
Something about that phrase from her lips sounds intimate, familiar, welcoming. It’s a warmth I haven’t felt since leaving Cornwall, and despite my instinct to keep my distance, to sit on the opposite end of the celestial carriage, I head towards her, taking a seat across the aisle from hers.
‘You couldn’t sleep either?’ I ask her.
‘Actually, this is just my favourite time to come up here.’ Her honey smile is framed by the glass that separates us from the stars. ‘Nobody else around.’
Oh. ‘I’ll leave you to it—’
‘No.’ She laughs, a cute chuckle that sounds like sprinkles of stardust. ‘Present company excluded. I’m Alex.’
‘Hi, Alex. I’m Ember.’
‘Ember . . .’ She tests my name out in her mouth, like she’s thinking about it for a moment. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Alex’s voice is salted caramel, smooth with a hint of scratch, and her accent gives away that she’s Canadian. ‘You’ve taken this train before?’ I ask her.
‘I actually work on this train, I’m a chief attendant.’
‘Oh, you’re working?’
‘Not right now,’ she says. ‘No, this is a personal trip. How’s your journey going?’
‘Good,’ I say. That’s not a total lie.
I feel her eyes studying me. ‘But you can’t sleep?’
‘It’s not that I’m uncomfortable . . . I think I just have a lot on my mind. And probably a little jet lagged.’
When I don’t elaborate, she nods and settles back in her seat, sinking down so the back of her head rests against the back and she’s facing up into the night sky. I do the same. Ahhhh. That’s my universe.
‘I’m a good listener, if you want to tell me what’s on your mind. Although I think I can guess it’s something to do with the argument between you and your friends earlier.’
I roll my head to the side and find her watching me. ‘No, it’s not them. They aren’t actually my friends; we aren’t travelling together. They’re just . . . old acquaintances.’
‘Oh. That’s a coincidence.’
‘Mmm . . . It’s not so much a coincidence as complicated.’
‘Alright.’
We slip back into silence, which I’d usually feel compelled to fill, but in this low light, under the stars, with the white noise of the train trundling in the darkness, it feels easy to settle into it.
‘So, if you’re not with them, where is it you’re going?’ Alex asks me, after a while.
Where am I going?
‘There’s a wedding,’ I start, glancing over and holding her gaze. Shall I just tell her? It might be nice to get a little unbiased perspective.
‘In Vancouver.’ Alex nods.
‘But I’m not technically invited.’ What is she going to think of me? Maybe it doesn’t matter what she thinks, because she’s a stranger, impartial. She’s listening.
Alex is still watching me, her face lit up by the white glow of the starlight, the tree tops rushing past, dark against the ink of the sky. A small frown is on her brow while she waits for me to say more.
‘Don’t judge me,’ I begin. Always a solid way to begin a story.
