Nothing Else for Us

Chapter One

I was leaned up against the old brick wall of the Aspen train station as I glanced down at my cherry stilettos. They were a size too small, but I loved them too much to give them up. I started picking the nail polish off my finger, a bad habit of mine.

"All passengers taking E5 to Albany, please board," The speaker squealed, breaking out after each word. I reached down and grab my abundance of luggage and headed down the cracked, dirt stained cement floor. I knew I looked like an idiot, struggling to carry all my bags, but for once I didn't care. For a weekday, the station seemed fairly crowded, but what did I know. Soon enough, I spotted a man collecting tickets who was standing by a small sign reading E5. I made my way to the end of the line, noticing. As I walked towards the end of the line, I evaluated the passengers in front of me. There was a woman, clearly unfamiliar with Colorado's climate. She was wearing knee-high, fur winter boots, and a huge jacket that made her tiny frame one of a football player's. It was the middle of October, and this was nothing compared to the below zero days I'd suffered. The line quickly shortened, and soon enough I was next.

"Ticket please," The man stated. He was skinny and tall and looked like he was in his mid fifties.

"Sure," I said, setting down my bags to get my ticket out of my purse. Leave it to me to forget their ticket at the bottom of their purse. After lots of digging, I found my ticket and handed it to the now impatient man. I watched, as he quickly stamped the corner, ripped of a piece and handed it back to me. I smiled, and quickly gather my bags, clearly the way for the person behind me. A larger man asked if I needed help with my bags. I gladly said yes. He took all but one and dragged them up the steps, and headed down a hall. I would assume to the storage car.

"Hello!" A very friendly woman says, greeting me.

"Hi," I said in return, taking a big breath while yanking my bag up the stairs.

"Could I see your ticket please?" She asked, her name tag read Wendy. As I hand her my ticket, some asshole hits my arm as he walks by me. I turn around, half expecting him to apologize. Nothing.

"Your in room thirty-four, follow me," Wendy turns around and heads down the skinny hallway.

"Ok!" I said, quickly following her. She soon stops and slides open one of the compact doors. The car was painted a faded red color and smelt like bleach. Painted gold stripes ran along the ceiling and walls.

"Here's your room," She said to me, revealing a tiny little space. There was maybe a foot or so of space between the door and the couch. "To the left is the bathroom," She mumbled, pointing in that direction. I lean further into the room. There's a toilet, a sink, and I glance up to see a shower head right above the small toilet.

"Okay," I said. It would have to do. I make my way through the tiny door and enter the room.

"Well, I will let you get settled. The meal car is open from six in the morning until eleven at night,"

"Thank you very much!" I set my purse on the wooden bedside table. I scanned the room a bit more, trying to find something positive. As of now, I was drawing a blank. The clock on the wall read 5:52. I sat down on the squishy couch and took off my shoes. My feet felt so much better. I rubbed them while thinking about what to do next. I finally decide to pull out the couch, and make my bed. Whether I liked it or not, this would be my temporary home for the next couple of nights. I yank on the bed, and it opens with a loud, ear blasting screech. Tossing my shoes into the corner, I lay on the lumpy bed, which to my surprise, had already been made.

I pull my suitcase onto the bed and unzip it. I push all my folded clothing to the side as I dig for my clear makeup case. After finding it, I get off the bed and head towards the sink. I take a second to look at my face in the mirror. I was tired from the day and had bags under my eyes. I examined the small scar on my left cheek, one I'd had for years. I had never known what it was from, but it had become a permanent imprint for as long as I could remember. I pull out a tube of mascara and re-apply a little onto my top lashes. I was not one to wear a lot of makeup, but mascara was something I never skipped. I would occasionally apply eyeshadow, but today was not the one of those days. I smile a few times, trying to brighten my mood, but it wasn't working. Leaving the vinyl bag at the sink, I return to the congested so called room. Seeing the unorganized mess I'd already begun made me miss Kristina. She had been our housekeeper for years. She was someone who was there to offer advice, or a shoulder to cry on. To me, she was more than just someone who cleaned my sheets, she was a true friend. My mother on the other hand, did not agree. She would always try and remind me that Kristina was the help, and that I didn't need to take time to engage in conversation with her. It wasn't that my mom was ever mean to her, she just never took the time to get to know her is all.