The Train

Suzanne was really bad at being a good person. She knew what it meant to be kind, but it didn't come naturally to her.

For example, she knew it would be nice to travel from Prague to Vienna for her friend Andrew's birthday, but she didn't want to. She had to take the sleeper train in a cramped room lined with bunk beds. She wanted so badly to say "no," but then he'd get upset, and she'd be the villain. Suzanne didn't like being the villain, so she sat hunched over on the bottom bunk of a compartment that smelled of wet socks and sweat.

All around her, she heard the noises of people queuing up and trying to get into their cabins, laughing with their friends or grumbling to themselves about how cramped it all was. The noise, the bends of the train, the moon in its full light, it all reminded her of that night…

Suzanne tried to shake the memories of that night out of her head, but they kept coming.

The blasting music

A roaming hand on the small of her back

Mascara running down her face.

“Oh, it looks like we’ve got a flatmate!”

Suzanne snapped back and saw three young cabinmates.

The Brits were called Johnny, Tomi, and Louis. They were taking a gap year and travelling around Europe.

"Have you ever been to the UK?" Johnny asked her.

“No, I haven’t,” Suzanne said coldly.

"Oh, you should go! We're all from Surrey, it's quite nice." Tomi piped in.

"Have you ever been to Washington state?"

"No." Louis piped in. "What's to do there?"

Suzanne shrugged. "You can hike, go skiing, watch some live music, you can…" She looked up and noticed they were back on their phones. “Never mind then.”

Suzanne’s head was turned to the right as she watched the dirty train stations and flickering lamps pass by the giant window of their room. Tired of the sight, she looked outside the tiny window on the door. Every face that walked by was pale and tired, similar to the dead, grim faces of the commuters back home. They used to laugh and call them zombies. The memories were creeping up on her…

She looked up and saw Louis staring at her.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Alright.” He said, almost in a huff.

“Don’t be a moody prick.” Johnny leaned over and punched his shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t be a prick,” Tomi echoed Johnny.

Louis shrugged and turned away.

Johnny looked down at Suzanne and smiled. “Don’t mind him. He’s just mad he finished his A-levels a virgin.”

“Hah!” Tomi laughed.

“Fuck off.” Louis hit him. He looked at Suzanne one more time before turning over.

“Oh, boys.” Suzanne thought.

Suddenly, she got a text and put the book down again. It was from Andrew:

"By the way, Tiff will be at the party, hope that's okay!! love you xx!"

Her stomach dropped below the train. She could feel every twist and turn of the railway track.

There was no escaping it. The past hit her full force.

Suzanne couldn't respond to the message. Andrew knew what happened and didn't warn her. Her anger grew larger than the room, but she didn’t say anything.

"I'm going out," She said to the Brits, and only Johnny let out an acknowledging grunt.

Suzanne barely made it out of the door when the tears started coming. God, she hated herself. She hated that she hated herself. She hated that she couldn't hate herself in silence- why did she have to make it everyone else's damn problem? She wandered to a random compartment to catch a breath and was left alone with the quiet rumblings of the train, with nothing left to distract her from what was on the back of her mind

The music

The rumbling

The noise

The men looking

The dead faces

“The train’s here!” Tiffany called out.

They rushed up the stairs of the station for their night out in downtown Seattle.

They were just two girls pretending to be much older than they were. Tiffany had curled her long blond hair and then messed it up with her fingers to make her seem wild. Suzanne’s dark hair was tied up, and glitter covered her entire face. They had gotten fake IDs from Tiff’s older sister.

They hopped into one of the first bars they could find. It was half-empty and looked mostly sad, but Tiffany and Suzanne were just excited to be there.

Tiffany went up to the bartender and said, “I want a long one.”

He eyed her. “A long what?”

She froze up. “Uh, I don’t know. Anything?”

He rolled his eyes, probably used to teenagers sneaking in but not caring enough to call it out. He went away to prepare them something, and the girls tried to hide their giggles.

Suzzane smirked. “A long one?”

“God, I’m a dumbass.” Tiffany giggled

“Well, hopefully, we’ll get long ones tonight.” Suzanne winked and looked around the bar. Mostly older men, none of them cute.

“Your ‘long one’”. The bartender said and gave her the drink.

“Can we get vodkas?” Suzanne ordered, and Tiffany gave her a surprised look. “What? Let’s get hammered while we’re here!”

Between all the shots, they were told that two men were going to foot the bill. They were in their 30s in slightly unbuttoned white shirts. Suzanne found their slicked-back hair and whole demeanour kind of repulsive, but she entertained them nonetheless.

“So, what are you doing here?” He must have been twice her age. His eyes were hungry for her in a way that made her feel powerful.

“I grew up here. Well, up north, in Northgate. You?”

He set aside his glass. “I work in tech.”

Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Of course, you do. They all do. I bet you’re not even from here.”

He let out a laugh. “I’m from California.”

“Oh, of course you are! Damn transplant.”

He laughed at this as well.

“I’ll be gone one day, though,” Suzanne said, trying to appear nonchalant and mysterious as she sipped on her bitter-tasting drink.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” He rested his face on his hands, observing her with a look in his eyes that made her feel special. “Where to?”

Suzanne shrugged. “Somewhere in Europe. I’m going to be a writer.”

“Well, then! We have a creative in our midst!” He raised his drink and clinked hers.“Salud!”

“Salud!”

Suzanne told him all about her plans as he looked at her with his hungry eyes. She had all the confidence in the world at that moment, until…

“Hey, Suzy?”

She turned and saw Tiffany with mascara running down her cheeks. Suzanne turned to the stranger and asked him to give them a minute.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Suzanne asked, holding on to Tiffany as she whimpered. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Tiffany shook her head. “N…No, I just… Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should leave?”

“Why? Are you sure?” Suzanne touched her arm. She had never seen Tiffany like this. “Are you nervous?”

“Yeah, maybe… That’s it.”

“That’s it, then.” Suzanne looked at her and then back at the stranger, who was checking his watch with an irritable expression. She couldn’t let Tiffany go back alone; it was too late, but she also didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity. “I think I might go back to him.” Suzanne looked at Tiffany. “You’re ok with staying a little?”

Tiffany smiled through the tears. “Mhm! I’ll see you later.”

Suzanne smiled and hugged her friend. As they pulled apart, Suzanne said, “Look, you’re probably just a little nervous. I’m certain it’ll be fun! It’s what we came for, right?”

Tiffany didn’t say anything, just “mhm.”

A few hours later, the only thing Suzanne had to show for the night was a sloppy makeout session with the bad-breathed stranger whose name she never learned. She finally caught up with Tiffany, who was waiting outside in the dark.

“I think we should just take the light rail back if it’s still running.” Suzanne stopped and looked at her. Tiffany’s makeup was completely smeared, and her hair was a mess. “Tiff, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Mhmm.” Tiffany choked out. And that was all she said to her as they went home. And that’s all she said to her for a very long time.

Suzanne sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was time to go to bed and put this day to rest.

When Suzanne returned, the boys were chatting with each other and giggling.

“Aw, remember Amelie, the French girl?” Suzanne heard Tomi say.

“Yeah, her tits were massive,” Louis answered, almost mechanically.

Tomi let out a laugh, but Johnny lightly reprimanded him. “Come on, don’t say that, man.”

“What about you?” Louis asked. “Hey, you.”

Suzanne looked up and saw Louis staring at her. ‘Yes?”

“How many guys have you been with?”

“Louis!” Johnny exclaimed and thumped his shoulder.

“No, it’s okay,” Suzanne answered. “I’ve been with a lot of men.”

Tomi and Johnny exchanged glances, but Louis kept looking at her, intrigued. “Do you remember your first?”

Suzanne froze. Yes, she did remember her first. As much as she tried to forget him, he was at the back of her mind.

“No.” She answered coldly. “Do you?”

Tomi and Johnny snickered while Louis blushed.

“Hey, you deserved that. Leave her be.” Johnny said, then turned to Suzanne. “Sorry about him.” Johnny reached over to tousle Louis’ hair, but Louis didn’t look amused.

As the boys went to sleep, Suzanne couldn’t escape what had happened. She opened her Notes app and looked through her scattered writings, words she would never publish, and tried to recall how she was supposed to feel. The rumblings of the train seemed to grow and grow, launching her stomach back and forth as she read through it all.

He was 22…

…Picked me up after school…

I was the cutest girl he had ever seen…

Why…why did I…

I cried so much…. Mom asked me what happened when I came home…

I wore freshly washed pyjamas to bed that night…

I still slept with a teddy bear…

Was I no longer a girl? Was I a woman?

Was I nothing?

What the fuck

Did he see in a 12-year-old?

Suzanne wanted to throw her phone out of the window. There it was. The reason she could never fall in love. She wanted control back. It’s all she ever wanted, for everything to be in her control.

She wanted to be the one to set the scene. She wanted to say “yes”. She wanted them to beg for her, not take from her. She didn’t mind when their wrinkled hands touched her waist or inner thigh, because she had the power over them.

Some would say it was a game, but Suzanne didn’t like to think of it that way. It was just how she was. People teased her for it, for being a flirt. For being so cool and not caring about age.

It was just who she was, and it made her fun and so damn mature.

Taking one last look at the boys, Suzanne rolled over and fell asleep.

She heard some murmurings from a distance, like a warning bell, and immediately woke up. Suzanne could feel something cold touching her. Looking up, she saw a dark figure hovering over her. In her shock, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but then there he was…

Louis with his dark, wide eyes and unnerving smile.

One hand on her breast and the other just about to move down.

Suzanne didn’t know what to say or do. She shook herself out of her shock and jostled him with her leg. “Hey!” She whispered harshly.

He looked up at her, his wide eyes, once full of perverse excitement, were now terrified. He pulled back and whimpered. "I...I..." he was like a child caught stealing a cookie before lunch.

"Go back to bed."

He didn’t say a word as he moved back to his bed.

Suzanne turned her head to look at the other two boys, but they were fast asleep, looking like cherubs with their chubby cheeks and scrunched-up noses.

Did they know that he was like this?

She almost pitied them for having such a friend. But, then, a dark thought entered her mind:

Did every guy know what their friends were capable of?

Saying something probably wouldn’t change anything. They’d still be friends, and I’d just be a victim.

That’s how Suzanne justified her decision to leave the room and say nothing.

As she turned around to leave, she looked at Louis. He was in bed, his back turned to her. How easily he could move past what he had done.

You idiot. She shook her head at him, angry at him, before turning that anger inward. You damn idiot.

You lost control.

You let this little boy win.

She had lost the game; she didn’t want to admit she was playing.

Suzanne smoked a cigar in the smoking area. She recalled all the times she and Tiffany would walk bare-legged as teenagers in tank tops and a face full of makeup. All the men whistling at them, despite their age or because of it. She'd remember walking to a gas station in a hoodie and pyjama pants and getting the same whistles. There was something so sadistically terrifying about male attention.

Suzanne would eye the way Tiffany would blush. Why did she never tell her how much she hated it?

Why couldn’t Suzanne see it?

She remembered telling all her friends about finally moving to Prague after talking about it for years and trying to become a writer. Andrew was there, crying, telling her how much he would miss her and that he hoped to be in Europe too, so they could still see each other. Everyone said goodbye, except Tiffany.

“She’ll come around,” Andrew told her, “Just give her time.”

And she did. She gave her days and weeks and years. Sometimes they’d see each other at Andrew’s parties, but Tiffany never said a word to her. And the “I’m sorry” that Suzanne tried to say for so many years remained stuck in her throat until that phrase melted away, and its residue remained, tainting all the words Suzanne said.

She took another puff of her cigarette and watched the blue sky fill up the window. Sometimes, she’d think she wished it happened to her instead. It would be easier that way. It had already happened once; what was once more?

But it wasn’t true, she didn’t want it at all, and she hated herself for it even more.

Looking out at daybreak in Vienna, the city starting to come into view, Suzanne felt this urge to call Tiffany and tell her what happened.

She took out her phone and looked at it. Tiffany. Would she even recognise her voice? Suzanne felt the tears well up again, because she knew she'd recognise the back of Tiffany's head from a mile away, and it'd be like that until the day she died, no matter how hard she tried to forget.

No, she couldn't call Tiffany. She let the feeling fester and simmer and join all the anger that now lived inside her.

She went back to the room, where Johnny and Louis were collecting their things.

"It was lovely meeting you," Johnny said earnestly and nodded at her.

"You as well. Enjoy your gap year."

"Enjoy the birthday!"

He went out of the room and left her and Louis. As she approached him, Louis kept his eyes on the floor, like a reprimanded puppy. Suzanne roughly grabbed his shoulder, making him finally look at her.

And in his eyes, she could also see the 22-year-old who picked her up after school, and those men in their 30s at the bar that night, and all the men who had ever catcalled her and Tiffany.

"Be better." She said to all of them. “For the love of God. Be better.”

He nodded and rushed out of the room with his things, bumping into the door as he tried to escape what happened. She wanted to push him down the train steps, but knew that wouldn't solve anything. She could only hope he would learn, and there'd be one less man to bother one less woman.

On the train platform, she was greeted by the back of someone's head, now cut into a short blonde bob rather than down to the back of her knees like when they were young.

"Tiff?" Suzanne whispered, her voice blocked by every emotion trying to escape her. "Tiffany?!"

The blond bob turned around and revealed the face she had known since childhood. Suzanne could read all of Tiffany's emotions. That same anger and love and pain. It was as if they were reflecting each other.

"Suzanne," Tiffany said coldly.

There she was. After so many years, Tiffany was there in front of her. Suzanne always thought she’d remember Tiffany as a teenager, but standing in front of her, she could see her for the woman she was.

“Tiff…” Suzanne whispered, hardly audible. There were so many questions Suzanne wanted to ask, but she knew she didn't deserve to ask them. Instead, she asked, "Do you know how you're getting to your hotel?"

"It's nearby,” Tiffany said curtly, “I'm walking."

"Same." Suzanne looked away at the horizon. “I guess I’ll get going then.”

"Wait,” Tiffany called out as Suzanne started to walk away. “Do you want to walk together?" Tiffany asked, with a softness slowly coming out.

Trying to stay calm, Suzanne nodded and said, "Yes."

They walked together to their hotels in silence, with the only whistles coming from the trains around them.