by R. R. Banks
"That is not a road trip. That is the world's longest pro bono Uber ride. Besides, I wouldn't have time to bring you all the way there and get all the way back here before I need to catch the flight to my grandmother's house that I responsibly booked several weeks ago."
"So, what am I supposed to do?"
"There is one option."
Vera leaned over me and typed something into the computer. I looked at the screen, up at her incredulously, and then back at the screen.
"You can't be serious."
"I don't really think that you have any other choice. If you want to get to your anti-Christmas cruise, this is how you are going to have to get there." She patted me on my back. "Just think of it as your very own Polar Express."
I let out a long exhalation.
"Great."
The train.
Chapter Two
Graham
"You can't be serious, Brandy."
"I'm very serious, Graham."
I paced around my office with steps so hard that I was sure I was burrowing a hole in the carpet. I dug my fingers back through my hair in exasperation.
"You were supposed to be here in two days. You were supposed to bring Charlie here to spend the holidays with me."
"And my plans changed. I won't be able to make it out there. You're just going to have to wait to see him."
"I'm not waiting any longer to see my son. The agreement was that you got to have primary custody of him, but I got visitation, and when you decided that you were going to move him all the way across the country you were going to make sure that we could continue seeing each other. He's supposed to come out here once a month."
"I'm well aware of the terms of our custody agreement. I really don't need you to reiterate them for me."
"Well, apparently you do because in the seven months since you moved, I've seen him once. You know full well that I'm supposed to be able to have him for two weeks around Christmas. I bought you the plane tickets, just like I have every other month."
"There's really nothing that you can do about it. I told you that I don't have the time to go out there. Now if you want me to put Charlie on the plane by himself…"
"He's five years old!"
"So? Children travel by themselves all the time. That's why they have a whole section about unaccompanied minors on the airline website. Really, Graham. You need to let it go. He's not a baby anymore."
Really, really, really. It was one of Brandy's favorite words. It had been since I met her, and had always been one of the things about her that annoyed me the most.
"I don't want to have to get the lawyers involved, Brandy. This is a court order, not just a suggestion."
"Don't threaten me. If you really wanted to do anything about it, you would have already."
I took a breath, trying to calm myself down, trying to remind myself of why I wanted them to come out here and why I hadn't gone to the lawyers already. I knew that that would cause too much stress for Charlie and hurt him even more than the divorce already had. I didn't want to put him through that, and I didn't want to do anything that would lessen my chances of being able to get my family back together.
"I really want to see Charlie. I want to see both of you. It's Christmas, Brandy. Can't you put off whatever it is that came up so that we can celebrate together?"
Brandy let out a burdened sigh and I could just see her wide brown eyes rolling up to the top of her head, her hip cocking in the way that it always did when she was feeling exasperated.
"Fine. Fine. I can't change my plans, but if it's so important to you to see Charlie, then you can come out here." I was starting to respond, but she made a scolding sound to quiet me. "You can come to the town. Not to my house. You'll have to find somewhere else to stay."
I smiled.
"That's fine. I'll be there in a few days. Tell Charlie that I love him, and I can't wait to see him."
I hung up and sat down at my desk, grabbing my tablet so I could book my trip. As I finished, my assistant walked into the office.
"Hey," I said, glancing up at him. "I'm going to be taking off the rest of the day for my vacation."
"Is Charlie coming in early?" Bryan asked.
I shook my head.
"He's not going to be able to make it, so I'm going to him."
"Not going to be able to make it? Is he OK?"
"He's fine. Brandy just said that she had something come up and won't be able to make it here."
"What is it with this woman?" he asked. "She didn't seem to want much to do with Charlie at all, then she suddenly decides that she's going to up and move him away and not even bother to bring him on his court-ordered visits."
I had known Bryan since we were just kids and brought him right along with me as I climbed through the business world and found my success. Calling him my assistant was mostly a formality. He was the only one who could deal with me when I was stressed and knew how to take care of things around the office without me even having to ask. This also meant that he had been there through my entire relationship with Brandy and its dissolution two years before, and he had never pulled punches when it came to how he felt about her.
"You make it sound like she's a horrible mother," I said. "She loves Charlie. If she didn't, the courts wouldn't have approved her custody, or her move. It doesn't matter, though. She'll be back here before long."
I grabbed a few files out of my desk and my jacket from the coat rack.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Bryan asked.
I swept past him out of the office and started down the hall.
"Oh, no, Graham. Seriously. Don't tell me that you're back on this. You are not getting back together with Brandy."
"We're a family, Bryan," I said, pressing the button next to the elevator. "We're supposed to be together."
"No. You're a divorced couple. You stopped being a family when you found her gambling away all your money."
"Let's be honest," I said as I stepped into the elevator. "It would be pretty hard for her to gamble away all of my money."
"Fine. She was gambling away a massive chunk of change and quite possibly spending a lot of it on other guys as well."
"Bryan, I appreciate your concern about me. I do. As always. But I've decided to put all of that behind me. I overreacted. I don't want to be forty and divorced and a part-time father to my son. I dealt with enough of that shit with my own father and I always promised that I wasn't going to do the same thing if I ever had a child."
"Just because you divorced the miserable woman who got her claws into you in college and popped out a baby for you doesn't mean that you have to be a part-time father."
"That was classy," I said, getting off the elevator at the parking deck and walking toward where my driver was waiting.
"It's the truth," he said. "And it's also the truth that you don't have to be married to her to be a good father. You have the money to be able to give him everything he needs. There are plenty of children who --"
I had heard this rant before and I wasn't interested in hearing it again.
"Charlie deserves to have both of his parents. He deserves to have a life with a mother and a father. It doesn't matter how much money I have. There are things that all the money in the world can't buy, and he deserves them."
"Don't you remember how miserable you were?" Bryan asked, sounding both frustrated and sad. "The two of you never stopped fighting. You were always at each other's throats. Either she was mad at you or you were mad at her and then you would be mad at her for being mad at you for something stupid, and then she would be mad at you for being mad at her. It got really hard to even tell when one of your arguments ended and the next one started."
"I know," I said, stopping beside my car and turning to put my hands on Bryan's shoulders. "There were some rough times. I know. But there were also some really amazing times, too. There were times when we were so happy. I should have thought more about those ti
mes before I ended everything. That was my fault."
"It wasn't your fault. She made it so that it was impossible to keep living with her."
"No. She dealt with me. No one can deal with me. Well, I mean, you can, but not that you're not awesome or anything, but you aren't exactly my type, so I don't think that marrying you would work out any better."
"Ha ha."
I smiled at Bryan and gave him a genial shake.
"It's going to be different this time. I'm going to make sure that it's different this time. Keep an eye on the office for me. Make sure that Leeann doesn't drink too much at the party again this year. Or if she does, just keep her out of the copy room."
Bryan nodded, but didn't smile. He took a step back as I climbed into the car.
"Have a good trip," he said, sounding deflated. "Tell Charlie I say hi."
"I will."
I was feeling hopeful as I shut the door and felt the car start rolling out of the parking deck. I had been disappointed when I first heard that Brandy wasn't going to fly out with Charlie as we had been planning for weeks, but now that I thought it through, maybe it was better this way. If I was able to convince her that she and Charlie should come back to our hometown so that we could work on being a family again, this would give me the opportunity to help them get ready for the move. Maybe seeing me in their new environment would show them how out of place they were now that they had moved, and that they wanted to come back.
Now all I had to do was pack up Charlie's gifts and mail them ahead, get my bags ready, and be on my way.
Two days later I stepped onto the train and took a deep breath of the familiar smell. This had always been my transportation of choice as an adult and I had taken so many trips on the train that there were times when I felt more comfortable on the rails than on wheels. I made my way back toward the sleeper cars, ready to put down my carry-on bag and go to the bar car. It was one of my traditions. I couldn't remember why I did it, but now I felt like if I didn't I would somehow be setting the trip up for failure. And I didn't get to where I was in my professional life by just setting things up for failure all willy-nilly.
Or by throwing around phrases like 'willy-nilly'. I really need to stop reverting to conversations with my grandmother when my mind had too much time to wander.
I got to my sleeper car and did my usual checks over it to make sure that everything was the way that I expected it. The car looked clean and there was the distinct smell of fresh linens hanging in the air, which gave me confidence that when I unfolded the bed later that night I wouldn't have to worry that I was sharing it with the remnants of a passenger from a previous trip. I took a glimpse into the bathroom and immediately pressed the call button that would bring a steward to my car.
"Yes, Mr. Castle?" a young man asked when he arrived at my door within seconds of my call.
"What's your name?"
"I'm Adam, sir."
"Hi, Adam. I just got here."
"Welcome aboard."
"Yes. Thank you. But here's the thing. There's only half a roll of toilet paper and an open container of soap in the bathroom. How could that be if I just got here?"
Adam looked horrified.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice sounding slightly stammering. "I wasn't responsible for cleaning..."
I shook my head.
"No, Adam, I don't blame you. I know that you're not the one who should be worried about this. Someone else dropped the ball. But I would appreciate if you could take care of it for me." I reached into my pocket and withdrew a few bills. "Thank you."
He looked both relieved and thrilled as he accepted the tip and slipped out of the car. I tucked my bag into the small closet and left, heading to the bar. I had only gotten two cars down when I heard the train whistle blow and felt the floor lurch beneath my feet.
Shit. The train's moving and I don't have my drink yet.
Holly
The train at Christmas. It should be sweet and nostalgic and get me in the holiday spirit.
Screw that.
It's hot and crowded and loud and packed with people who are probably no happier to be on the train than I am to have them on it.
I turned my bag sideways as I tried to fight my way down the ridiculously narrow aisle toward the two empty seats that I saw at the end of the car. It had been years since I had been on a train and I was remembering why more clearly with every compressed step down the aisle. I had nearly made it to the seats when another passenger burst through the door on the other end of the car and swooped down into the seat that was facing forward. I felt an irrational surge of anger and stepped up beside the seat, glaring down at the man who had stolen it. He looked up at me, unmoved by my plight.
"I was going to take that seat," I said.
"Well, it looks like I got to it first."
"Because you snuck up on it," I snapped. "You came through the back door. Everyone knows that you start at the front of a car and make your way down. You don't swoop in from the back and grab a seat because the people from the front can't fight their way down the aisle."
"Actually, it seems to me that people not being able to fight their way down the aisle makes coming in from the back of the car the perfect tactic."
"There are other people who need seats, too."
He pointed to the seat directly across from him.
"There's a seat right there."
I looked at the seat and then back at him.
"You can't be serious. Get up."
"No. Why would I get up?"
"Because that's my seat. Get up."
"No. There's a seat right there. Sit down there."
"Not only am I not going to spend the entire trip staring at you, but I'm also not going to spend the entire trip going backwards. I get motion sickness and I am not going to start my vacation nauseous."
"Nauseated."
"What?"
"You wouldn't start your trip nauseous. You would start your trip nauseated."
"What?"
"When you feel sick, you are nauseated. Nauseous describes the thing that made you feel nauseated."
I blinked at him a few times, then flailed at him.
"What the fuck ever, just get up."
"No. This is my seat."
"Ma'am?"
"What?" I snapped, looking over my shoulder.
A conductor was approaching, shoving the people behind me even harder up against the seats on either side of the aisle.
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to move ahead. The train is getting ready to start and everyone needs to be in a seat."
"I was trying to be in a seat, but this man stole it."
"We don't have reserved seats in our cars, ma'am. The only reserved spaces are the sleeper cabins. Did you reserve one of them?"
I narrowed my eyes at the conductor.
"If I had reserved a sleeper cabin, would I be standing here in the middle of the aisle fighting with the man who stole my seat?"
"There are no reserved seats, ma'am," the conductor said, his voice taking on a stiffer tone. "You will need to move on."
"But he came in from the back! He flagrantly ignored the rules of train boarding etiquette."
"There are no rules, ma'am. Any passenger is able to select any available seat."
"There should be rules."
"Ma'am, if you don't move along and find an available seat, I am going to have to have you escorted from the train."
"No, no. That won't be necessary. I have a cruise to get to." I struggled my bags in front of me and made my way through the passage that connected the car to the one ahead of it. Just before I got all the way through, I poked my head back around toward the man. "May you buy a cup of coffee that sloshes all over you and get a cramp in your neck from sleeping at an awkward angle."
Before the conductor could call in security, I pushed my way through into the next car and struggled my way to an empty seat in the middle
. Shoving my bags into the overhead compartment, I plopped down into the seat and glared at each person that passed, noting that most averted their eyes as though it was completely normal to see a total meltdown when boarding a train.
I had only been sitting for a few seconds when I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom. Apparently, the showdown over the seat had been enough to keep me distracted and not thinking about it, but now I realized that I was in a somewhat dire situation. I waited until the stream of passengers had lessened and got up, pulling one bag down and shoving it into my chair as a visual dibs. I made my way down the aisle, noting that it was much easier now that I wasn't carrying anything, and paused in between the restrooms wedged at the end of the aisle. Both had red 'occupied' indicators. I could have waited, but that would have required another episode of blocking the aisle for the people behind me, so I journeyed on, passing through the next car to reach the next set of restrooms. The same red indicators greeted me, as they did at the next bathroom, and the one beyond that. The train was moving beneath my feet and the shaking was doing nothing for my current situation. I was getting ready to turn around to try the ones behind me again, but then I noticed the door ahead of me that noted the private sleeping cabins lay beyond.
I remembered what the conductor had said about the reserved cars and a thought came into my mind. If people were reserving those cabins, that meant that they intended to sleep in them, which meant that they were probably intending on spending more than a couple of hours in them, which meant…
I glanced over my shoulder casually. Noting that no one seemed to be looking at me, I pressed the release on the door and slipped through, closing it behind me as fast as I could so that no one could sense that I didn't belong and snatch me back out. I spied an open door halfway down the aisle and walked toward it, going past so that I could glance into it out of the corner of my eye, and then backing up to go inside. Just as I hoped, there was a private bathroom tucked into the corner. I couldn't help but be impressed when I stepped inside. This wasn't the stark, often swaying bathroom that I remembered from my last train trip. This actually felt almost comfortable, and even had a shower in it. I was tempted to barricade the door and spend the next few hours sitting in a hot shower to pregame for the tropical week ahead.