Why I Like Travelling By Train

WILTBT Part 4

By late afternoon on the Sunday, an indefinable sense of anxiety had settled between us. We were wandering through a small park on the way to the station from Kat's flat. We hadn't come this way on Friday, as it was dark, but now the milky Autumn sun washed the different shades of brown and auburn and green, and glittered on the pond. It was so pretty, and I sighed. I really wanted to hold hands with her, but there were people about. Our arms and bodies brushed lightly as we walked, but each touch only made it feel more and more like there was a gap opening up between us. We'd got to know each other so well this weekend and things felt easy and comfortable. And this closeness was whole, both emotional and physical: we'd come as close as two people could - taken the long, dark, intimate hours of the past two nights to get to know every inch of each other. I knew each gently beautiful curve of her body better than anyone else's, even my own, and now I was being ripped away from her. With every conversation, I felt we connected and understood each other so well. Even as I felt the desire for her stir quietly inside me again, a sharp pang of disappointment cut through it at the thought of having to part from her.

My train home left far too soon.

She bent and picked up a pebble from the gravel path. I quietly admired the twist of her body as she turned and tried half-heartedly to skim it across the surface of the pond. It plopped sadly into the water in the middle. I made a mental note to teach her how to skim pebbles one day, and took a deep breath. 'I really don't want to go home, Kat,' I said to the back of her head. Her hair was tucked into her scarf and the collar of her coat, yet another riot of auburn to mix with the autumnal trees in the park. I'd discovered I loved the smell of her hair, and the soft feel of it on my skin. I felt a little shiver of arousal. I felt another one as she turned back and grinned at me.

'Don't, then.' Then she was serious for a moment. 'I want you to stay here so much, it hurts.' Her gaze searched my face, and I shivered again in the warmth of her wide eyes. 'Can you come again next weekend?'

There was a tiny pause, as the unintentional double entendre registered with us both, then she smirked. I blushed and felt a smile twitch my lips too. 'What, like I did this morning?'

She brushed a stray strand of her hair away from her eyes. 'I was thinking of that time last night actually.' She shrugged. 'But, hey, whatever...'

I pretended to think. There'd been a few times last night as well as this morning, and each one had been very special. 'Oh, ok...yes, well...' I bit a nail and ran my eyes over her quickly. 'With a bit of help...if you want me to...'

'Oh, I want you to. And I will do anything you want to help. Oh yes.' She came and pressed close for a split second. There was another of those moments when nothing in the world existed apart from our locked gaze.

She broke it. 'Come on, babes, or we'll miss your train.' She linked her arm though mine, and we set off again.

*****

What with dawdling in the park, and being generally reluctant to let go of the weekend together, we only just made it onto the platform in time – the train was already getting ready to leave. She bundled me in the nearest open carriage door. I leant out and we kissed quickly on the cheek. Then the doors hissed closed, and I started to roll out of the station, away from her. For a second, I thought I was going to start crying, but I swallowed it down, bit my lip and went to find a seat.

The train wasn't particularly busy as I walked through a couple of carriages. A young family on their way home; a smattering of people working on laptops – maybe commuting to London for the week or something; a few studenty types travelling back from a weekend away. I wondered how many of them – the commuters and the students – had parted from someone special when they set off tonight. How many of them felt like I did, as if half of their soul had been left behind elsewhere, leaving a heavy loneliness to be carried around in its place?