Train

Stranger was fascinating. I spent an hour getting him to elaborate what he meant when he said that he would go anywhere. He didn’t have a family to go home to over Christmas break because he came from California, and he was strapped for cash so a plane ticket was out of the question. But he wanted to go on an adventure, and just ordered the first train ticket he could out of Montreal. He said he was going to travel until he got bored and then when he did, he would just come back to residence and look for something else to do. But after a while, I stopped calling him Stranger and settled on S, because it was short and didn’t sound as creepy.

I could only imagine what it would be like to know that you couldn’t go home for Christmas, to have to stay in a tiny little room cooped up all by yourself while everyone else was with their families. But the University kicked everyone out by December 21st, and if you weren’t gone it was because you already turned in a notice to say that you were sticking around but that mostly only applied to the overseas students. And S wasn’t that far away, but was still a good distance from the University. He had to leave though, so he decided to go wherever the train took him, and then hop on another one to do some exploring.

“Where are you going to stay?” I asked, crossing my arms on the table in front of me. “You can’t keep train-hopping. You’ll run out of money eventually. Isn’t there anyone that you can stay with for a bit?”

He lifted a shoulder, unconcerned. “Someone,” he said, locking eyes with me. “Tell me more about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you’re willing to share.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m weird,” I replied, taking a sip of my iced tea. A man had come around our car and asked us if we wanted anything to eat or drink but it was just S and me in our section because no one had paid tickets for the seats beside us. So we had gotten ourselves drinks and even though neither of us was hungry, they brought us a basket of bread anyway. “You’ll catch on. I’m an oddball.”

“You’re not that odd.”

“That’s because this is the first time you’ve talked to me,” I said, raising my eyebrows smartly. “How come you can know my name but I can’t know yours? Like you said, names turn you vulnerable. A gentleman would make things even and return the girl with his own name.”

“Then I guess I’m not a gentleman,” he smiled. “I’m probably never going to see you again past this. You’re going to see your parents and I’m taking another trip somewhere else. The only other time we will talk is maybe saying hello when we pass each other back at University but by then, you probably will have forgotten me. I’m a stranger after all.”

“S,” I said, catching his attention when he started to turn his head away. “You’re telling me everything about yourself but your name. Would it be such a crime?”

“I know your name, but nothing about you,” he returned. “We’re even, aren’t we?”

“Technically, no. You know my name, which makes it easy for you to find out anything you want but if you just say things about yourself and don’t tell me what they call you, then really I don’t know a single thing about you.” I sat back, pleased.

S looked impressed. “Smart girl.”

“I know.”

He leaned forward and said, “Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”

“She told me not to talk to stalkers. I’ve always been different,” I said matter-of-factly.

S smirked. “And what do you say to people as goodbye?” he asked. I shot him a look of confusion. “If you’re an oddball, then you’ve got to be different than a majority of people at a lot of things. Usually the weird ones have unique ways of saying hello or goodbye.”

“I usually just say hello,” I replied. “But I like quoting people from the fifties. So I sometimes say I’ll catch someone on the flip side, or something else that tends to make people smile.”

S threw his head back and laughed. “And you say I’m interesting.”

“Intelligence is a turn-on.”

“Hm.” He grinned at me. “What’s your family like? Where did you get your sense of humor? It makes sitting with you a lot more remarkable.”

“Probably my dad. He likes to think he’s younger than he is. His body’s in its fifties but his mind is still thirty years old. He’s one of those people that you can just kind of guess will break a leg or something from doing this big crazy thing.”

“Like sky-diving.”

“Is it possible to break a leg jumping out of a plane?”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

“Well then sure. I was going more for jumping off a bridge but that works too,” I nodded.

S smiled. “I like you,” he said. “You’re entertaining.”

“I’ve been told. I should write this shit down,” I said, standing up to go into my bag and grab my notebook.

“Are you actually going to write the stuff you say down?” S asked, laughing so hard he was bent over to the side, holding his side.

“Why not? It’s a good keepsake. This is the most interesting ride home I’ve ever had,” I replied, sitting back down and opening up the pad to a blank page.

“It’s the only ride home you’ve had.”

“Touché,” I agreed, pointing my pencil at him.

S smiled at me. “Who do you have to go home to?” he asked.

“My mom and dad, and my two younger siblings,” I replied. “Fraternal twins. They’re a pain in the butt but I love them anyway. You know how it is.”

He nodded. “I actually do. I have twin sisters,” he laughed.

“Really? Wow, that’s . . . weird.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I feel so bad,” I said, folding my hands on the table, my shoulders falling forward. “You don’t even get to see your family. That must be hard. Have you had to do this every year?”

“Pretty much. I mean, at first it was to get used to it but then it became constant because we were struggling. I didn’t really mind all that much though; it helped me work on separation since I’ll have to live the rest of my life that way and it also gave me freedom. It’s like practice because you can’t be with your family your entire life, you know?” S shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I miss them so much. But I’m not going to demand they drop thousands of dollars just for me to come home on top of what they’re paying for my education. I’m helping out as much as I can. I just don’t want them to feel like they’re bad parents.”

“Where have you stayed past Christmases?” I asked, eyes wide with attention and curiosity.

“Friends houses mostly,” he replied.

“I take it these friends know your name,” I joked.

He laughed. “Yeah, they do.”

“And this year you’re just going to wander around without direction for a month?”

“Well I’ll stop here and there. I’ve got some people to see along the way,” he replied.

“Come visit me,” I said and he shot me a doubtful look. I put my hands up. “I know, ‘don’t talk to strangers’.” I rolled my eyes and he smiled. “I just don’t want you to be alone for Christmas. It’s not fair.”

“You hardly know me,” he pointed out.

I smiled back. “That doesn’t mean I can’t.”

He sat back and rubbed his hands on his navy jeans. “I’ve got plenty of things to do over Christmas break,” he said. “My parents said they can try and drive up so I can meet with them somewhere if I want, they just can’t take the plane.”

“Wouldn’t it basically cost the same amount to drive from California to Toronto as it would to take a plane?” I put in.

“No, I don’t think so. But money isn’t the problem for driving, it’s time. I don’t know where I’ll be when they get here. I want to explore.”

“Do you have a girlfriend to visit?” I asked, gripping the edge of the table. “Or at least someone who is special to you that you think would want your company?” S lifted his head, moved his bangs out of his eyes. “Anyone, S.”

He only nodded and said, “Someone.”