Page 37 of Leaving the Station
FIND SOMEONE WHO’S NEVER RIDDEN THE TRAIN
FIND THE OLDEST PERSON ON THE TRAIN (OAKLEY)
FIND THE YOUNGEST PERSON ON THE TRAIN (ZOE)
“That’s not much of a scavenger hunt,” I tell her, looking at the list.
“Sounds like loser mentality to me.”
“Fine,” I tell her, not backing down from the challenge. “I’m in.”
“All right, should we say... thirty minutes?” Oakley pulls up the clock app on her phone and hands me a piece of paper and a pen.
“You’re on.”
She counts down from ten, and as she says one, we push past each other and sprint out of her sleeper compartment. The first place I go is the nearest coach car, hoping that the woman with the fresh baby came on this train too.
Luckily, she’s there, breastfeeding while watching a movie on her laptop.
“Excuse me?” I whisper, not wanting to bother her, but she doesn’t hear me, so I say it louder.
At that, the baby turns with their big eyes to look at me, but the mom doesn’t react.
“She sleeps with her eyes open,” the person across the aisle says. “Thought she was dead at first, but she’s fine.”
The man looks like a stretched-out piece of taffy. Even his mouth is long, and he’s using it to smile at me.
“I know this is going to sound weird,” I start, then check the note Oakley wrote for me. “But are you from another country and/or is this your first time taking this train?”
“You’re in luck.” He’s grinning now. “I’m from Canada.”
I smile back at him and write his name—Mike—on the piece of paper. We talk for a minute, and I tell him that I’ve only ever been to British Columbia, but that I’d like to visit more of Canada.
“Try the Canadian National Railway,” he says. “I took a cross-country train trip with them a few years ago, so I figured I’d try the US next.”
I tell him that if I ever have a reason to take a four-day train trip again, he’ll be the first person I call.
Then I turn to the woman with the fresh baby, and she snores loudly.
The sound wakes her up, and though her eyes were already open, the life jumps back into them.
“Hi,” I say carefully. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”It’s not the entire truth, but it’s not a lie either.
She purses her lips, and her baby stretches their balled fists in the air. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Then the baby starts screaming.
Everyone around us looks over, clearly done with this infant and their many loud noises.
“Shh, shh,” the mom coos, bouncing the baby over her shoulder while staring daggers at me.
But then the baby looks me dead in the eyes and immediately stops crying. They have the most perfect face I’ve ever seen, even though it’s splotchy with tears.
The mom’s eyes are nearly as wide as her child’s as she turns to me. “Can you take him?” she whispers.
“I don’t know if that’s a great—”
But my protestations don’t stop her from shoving the small thing into my arms. I cradle him like he’s made of glass. I’ve never held a baby before, but this one’s warm and wriggly, and I immediately know I’d do anything to protect him.
