Page 26 of The Christmas Express

Ember

Oof. I rub the deep ache that’s settled into the right side of my neck while prising my eyes open one lid at a time. I unfurl my limbs. The last time I woke up feeling this disorientated was when my friends back home and I slept on the beach to watch the meteor shower.

Mmm. A shower would be good.

I hobble my body over to the communal bathroom and stand under the hot water, which bit by bit rinses away the brain fog.

In the steam I realise, it’s Christmas Eve.

Two more sleeps until I see Bryn. Wow, that is a strange, but exciting, thought. My heart bubbles along with the suds in the shower.

Last night was actually fun. Hanging out with Alex is fun.

The last thought brings a smile to face. Nothing happened, we just chatted over drinks, flirted a little, but God, it felt good to flirt.

Out of the shower, I apply a smudgy slick of my winged eyeliner thanks to the rocking of the train, and towel-dry my hair, scrunching it into beachy waves, and spot another bruise.

I peer at the small blue dot beside my elbow.

Honestly, I’m knocking into things left, right and centre on this train.

I don’t think I’m used to being in enclosed spaces for this long any more.

As I’ve been doing for the last few weeks, I navigate to Bryn’s social feed as I’m getting dressed, but today there’s nothing new. Perhaps she’s called off the wedding? Wishful thinking.

Back at my seat, Gwen is wide awake and playing Christmas music loudly from a tiny speaker she’s Bluetoothed to her phone. Around us, other passengers are waking up, some enjoying the unsolicited alarm clock, some not so much.

‘Happy Holidays, bunkmate!’ she says to me.

‘And to you. Wait, it’s still only Christmas Eve, right?’ I guess my brain is not quite awake yet to remember the exact day and exactly how long I’ve been on this train for.

‘It is, but today I’m leaving you.’

‘What?’

‘I’m getting off tonight, in Edmonton. Seeing family, surprising them for the holidays.’

‘What family?’

‘My sister and her kids. Haven’t seen her for six months or so and I can’t wait.’

Wow. I didn’t realise how attached I’d got to Gwen, but I guess when you sleep side by side with someone for two nights you can’t help but feel a fondness for them. ‘So, you’re just going to show up? At nine p.m. on Christmas Eve?’

‘Yep. They’re going to be psyched.’

That’s a good attitude. Positive thinking. ‘I’m surprising someone too, when we get to Vancouver the day after tomorrow.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘An ex-girlfriend. She’s getting married in a few days, but... it’s a long story.’

‘So, you’re just going to show up? Right before the wedding?’

I nod. ‘She’s going to be psyched.’

Gwen laughs. ‘Well tell me the story. We’ve got all day.’

I like talking with Gwen. She has a lovely life, travelling, living in the great outdoors for much of her time. And she’s a good listener. She reminds me of my mum, but younger, which both pangs and warms my heart in equal measures.

My parents had a long and happy marriage; they were lucky. I often wonder if my mum died more of heartbreak than anything else, passing away so soon after my dad.

Did I do my own heart a disservice by tearing it away from a happy relationship?

As Gwen and I munch breakfast croissants in our seats, talking over the logistics of me arriving in Vancouver and travelling out to Bryn’s and being able to speak to her without anyone else around just days before her wedding, I can tell the confidence is lessening in my voice, just a little.

Like an icicle melting, dripping from a roof.

I’m doing the right thing, right? If Bryn’s trying to reach out to me, which I’m still sure she is, I owe it to both of us to at least see what’s happening, and see if she and I are still meant to be an us. Right?

‘Alrighty,’ says Gwen, wiping crumbs from her mouth. ‘I got to get ready for the show.’

‘The show?’

‘The Christmas Eve show in the bar. You haven’t seen the posters?’

My blank look tells her that no, I haven’t seen any posters about a Christmas show. ‘Are you in it?’

‘Sure am. You can be too!’

‘Nooooo, no thank you, I am not a show... girl.’

‘Then come along at least. High noon. Be there or be wherever else you wanna be, it’s a free country.’

High noon rolls around, at least in our current time zone which is either Mountain Time or Central Standard Time and I’m not sure which, but here we are.

Since breakfast, I’ve located one of the mysterious posters, and it turns out the Christmas Eve show consists of a small band that boarded in Saskatoon and will be leaving us again in Edmonton, all to play a set of festive tunes in each of the bar carriages along the train.

And once their set is done, passengers (such as Gwen) are invited to stay in the bars and have their own jingle bell jam sessions.

‘I’m telling you,’ Gwen is saying, polishing a ukulele that she’d been storing who knows where since we first boarded. ‘If you’ve never heard “All I Want for Christmas Is You” on the uke, you haven’t lived.’

Strangely enough, I have actually. Tonia serenaded me last year when she wanted to find out if I thought posting a video of her doing exactly that on a dating app was a) cute as hell, or b) something that would go viral and end up on a BuzzFeed article about the most cringeworthy singletons at Christmastime.

I told her it was definitely ‘a’. And we ended up spending Christmas together anyway, so she got her wish, even if I wasn’t quite what she was hoping for.

I smile at the memory. I wonder what they’re all doing back home right now?

I’m about to text my bestie when the band starts up with a lively rendition of ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’ and I’m captivated.

I’ve not felt particularly in the seasonal spirit thus far on this trip, but there’s something about brass instruments gleaming under the spotlights of an old-fashioned train carriage, snow beyond the window, mulled wine in hand—

Wait, who put this mulled wine in my hand? Cali! She’s snuck in next to me, a glass in her own paw.

‘Even after all those brandies?’ I chuckle after we’ve clapped the band and they’re flipping the pages of their music. Quite the crowd is drawing in, and Cali and I have to lean into each other.

‘Hair of the dog?’ She laughs. ‘Actually, I meant to talk to you about something yesterday evening—’

The band start up again, this time with ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’, which takes on a new meaning when you’re actually rocking inside a train car and all the Christmas trees are outside the window.

I know what she was going to say though; it’s obvious, isn’t it?

So in the next song break I jump in quickly.

‘You know, I nearly got off the train in Winnipeg. Like, permanently.’

‘You did?’ She straightens her face back out. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so... gleeful. Are you thinking of changing your mind though, about the wedding? Or maybe not, since you’re still here?’

‘I just think you have to follow your heart, you know? No matter what other people think. No offence, but this is my life, not yours, or theirs, so I have to do what’s right for me.’

‘And this is right for you?’

Of course ‘Last Christmas’ has just started. Of course Gwen is sneakily trying to join in with her ukulele from behind the back of her seat, much to the annoyed glances of a woman on a trumpet.

I half nod, half shrug, and then add to her, in a whisper over the music, ‘You just do what’s right for you.’

I don’t know exactly how she interpreted that, but we watch the next sixty minutes of music in spiced, mulled silence, and when the open mic portion of the show comes on, Cali excuses herself, and on the way out she super-unsubtly unfurls a length of tinsel from around a picture and scampers off with it.

That girl is in her own, weird world. Shaking my head, I focus on Gwen. Who knew she was so good at mashing up ukulele Christmas songs with Tina Turner’s greatest hits?