(A short story by Irene B.)
Eva stepped onto the train, already scanning for her seat and ready to claim her territory. She spotted her four-seater in business class, blissfully unoccupied; an internal “Yes!” erupted. Eva dropped her laptop bag on the table, her stuffed tote bag across one seat, and, keeping her crossbody closest, plopped down in the window spot with a relieved sigh. She’d move things if someone legit showed up. Otherwise, this quadrant sanctuary was all hers.
Across from her, in another four-seater, sat a man already there when she boarded. Smartly dressed in a business suit jacket that looked on-trend and expensive, but in that easy-going and confident way. He looked up and gave her a smooth nod hello. She nodded back, clocking his full face, clean-shaven and definitely nice looking. He returned to his book with a subtle smile, seemingly in no rush. The train unexpectedly lurched forward, catching her and the man off guard. They made eye contact again, and his raised brows mirrored hers, then went right back to his pages. After a few seconds of smooth sailing, it happened again, and this time raised comments came from the other passengers, also not used to this unusual behavior. But this next jerk rocked Eva’s tote out of its set place, slamming it against the table’s edge, and spilling crumpled papers rolling onto the table. Eva groaned. Of course, this happens now, she thought. She steadied herself while attempting to snatch them up quickly, before a third surprise bump occurred that could send her ass to the train floor instead. The man didn’t look up this time, locked in on words that incited shock over his face. His body swaying willingly with the carriage’s movement. She resumed the recovery of her destroyed presentation printouts. Cover sheets she’d been ready to toss but couldn’t in the crowd of big bosses and clients that surrounded her most of the morning, and the ones Gavin Ward had all the audacity to add his name to. Goddamn Gavin, who said all of a handful of sentences in that entire 4-hour meeting. She’d planned to introduce him verbally, so he could speak to his bullshit in that way, and somehow, he’d gotten a digital copy of her presentation and added his name as a contributor. His name on the deck she’d spent weeks on got him the same rounds of ‘thank-you’ and ‘great-job’ praise, as she did. And to top it off, the asshole showed zero shame in his work-thief behavior, beaming at her like they were a team. Eva shoved the papers deep into her bag, irritated all over again, watching them slowly work to puff their way to the top. She exhaled, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes briefly.
The steadier rhythm of the train took over when suddenly she blinked awake, startled, and realizing she must have nodded off for a bit. Scanning her belongings, she was relieved to find all her stuff still there. Nothing stolen. Nothing spilled. She glanced across the aisle and saw the man was gone, but his book was still there, resting on the table. The ruffled pages facing her and with a clear dent where he’d folded down a page corner like a bookmark. Nothing else was in sight. Not his coffee or jacket, just the book. The moving train was the only source of noise in the otherwise quiet cabin, and as no one could easily see each other, her curiosity started creeping in. Maybe she’d just flip the book over to see the cover. That way she could Google it later or dive into the reviews on Goodreads to see if it was worth her time. Eva leaned forward, but someone was approaching.
A woman entered the space. Her blunt black bob skimmed her linen blazer, and she only had one small leather bag versus Eva’s three. The woman looked around with purpose, surveying the section, almost passing Eva’s row, but then she stopped when she saw the book. Without another thought, the woman slid right into the seat the man once held, picked up the book and scanned the back cover, her smile growing as she did. Eva waited for an acknowledgement from the woman. After all, it was only the two of them in the small space. Instead, the woman glanced at her like she was part of the curved train wall, and flipped straight to the dog-eared, bookmarked page and began reading. Eva tried not to stare. Who starts reading from the middle of a book? Yet, there it was again, that look. The book clearly had something. It hooked the woman just as it had the man before. Somehow the woman sunk deeper into the seat, as if she was at home, and snuggled into a more cushioned sofa. Her eyes were steady on the page she was reading, like the world had fallen away.
Fifteen minutes later, the woman stood up and stretched, still oblivious to Eva cautiously watching her. The woman refolded the same page corner, but left the book on the window seat and not the table where she’d found it. She got her purse and disappeared down the corridor she came from.
Eva’s stop was coming up. She started gathering her bags quickly. At the last second, as one hand held onto the seat top to secure her balance, she snatched the book, tossed it into her bag like it had been hers all along, and headed for the sliding doors. As she paused to allow a seriously tall man to pass her, she nearly dropped everything. The tall man’s wide frame had blocked her entire view until he moved, and there he was. The book owner. He was on his phone, and looked to have been for a while, pacing just past the door and near the out-of-order toilet. The man hadn’t left the train like she’d thought. He’d just been on a call. He’d been courteous enough, maybe to know taking a call with her asleep would be rude, or maybe he was thinking about everyone in that section of the train. And also reappearing out of nowhere was the blunt-bob woman, also on her phone in a separate conversation.
The man looked up at Eva, mid-sentence, and smiled, more familiar than before.
“Leaving already?” he said jokingly.
Eva could only manage a tight, awkward nod. As she shuffled closer toward the exit, two more people brushed past her, but this time they bumped her bag off her shoulder. She caught it in time, and nothing fell out. Her heart, however, was a different story entirely, that was at her feet. As the train finally stopped, blunt-bob woman, ignoring her again, turned and began walking back toward the seats before the crowd of newcomers could claim them. Eva, now in the doorway, got swept up by the tide of commuters aggressively storming on to the train. Spying a bench, Eva took some time on the platform to adjust herself. The train hadn’t pulled off yet, and a compulsion drove Eva to look back to the window of her old seat. She locked eyes with the blunt-bob woman who was glaring at her, making a clear “What the hell?” motion with her hands. An uncomfortable heat was rising in Eva, but all she could do was blink, hoping it was conveying back confusion. And then the man appeared and took the seat opposite the woman, obvious now that she’d been saving for him when she moved her purse off it. As he sat, he made some odd shifts and began looking under the table.
Leave Eva, girl, just go. But Eva remained rooted to the spot. The man retrieved something. A piece of paper. A balled-up piece of paper. Eva’s eyes and mouth widened as he began to unravel it. Her paper. One she’d missed or maybe hadn’t shoved deep enough into the tote earlier. With her company logo, her full name, title, and business contact info. Through the dirty glass, his gaze met hers, and a wicked yet alluring laugh escaped his lips. The train began to move, but Eva stood frozen on the platform. The stolen book in her bag and her dignity lost, as he continued laughing, and waving a ‘see you soon’ from the moving window.
Practicing Out Loud
Sharing some of my writing, these fiction bits as part of my creative reps, flaws and all. Keep going with your “thing,” too. Small consistent steps, even imperfect ones, make big moves forward.
