Sapphire Seas

Even with my music blasting through my earphones I can still hear the other conversations being held by the other passengers. I had hoped for this to be a relaxing trip but my hopes had been dashed when I had seen the masses of people waiting at the railway station. Remembering all of my other trips when I would have found the conversation soothing rather than my own thoughts. But, the one time where quiet was preferred is the one where everyone and their brother decided to take a train ride. I guess more people in London used this mode of transportation than in small towns in the United States. Trying to calm myself from the prospect of sitting with about one hundred other passengers for a seven hour and fifty-five minute ride but so far it wasn’t working whatsoever. Pacing in front of the dirty window watching the empty tracks for a few moments before the train arrives was making it worse. 

It had begun to rain but that had been predicted by my weather app and usually I would welcome the smells and sights but today, it was the last thing I needed. Well besides all of the other passengers I guess. Taking a shaky breath and pressing the side of my face up against the glass to feel the coolness seep into my skin. The cold hushed the anxiety ebbing into my chest and I was finally able to take deep breaths, soon it was nothing more than a dull throb. My eyes swept across the passengers and ended up catching the eyes of a mother pursing her lips at me while her children hung off of her seemingly wants to put their faces on the glass too. Smiling to myself I remember doing the same thing to my mom when we would watch the planes take off from the vast window by the boarding gate. 

Now being in a better state of mind I am again able to be excited about the journey ahead no matter how many people there were going to be. Knocking me out of my reverie, the sound of the tracks clanging together notified me of the arrival of our train. I grab my duffel bag and power walk through the double doors and onto the platform before anyone else has the chance to. Hugging my jacket closer to my body and looking at my ticket trying to see what seat I had reserved. Even though I had checked so much in the last hour I could recite the entire ticket down to each tiny print number on the bottom.

“Mooooom! Why couldn’t we go on the plane with Grandma and Uncle Theo? Everyone will be there before us!”, an accented adolescent male voice cuts through the wind almost indignant.

“Calm down! You don’t need to be making such a big deal over nothing. We always take planes and I thought this was going to be nice to experience new things.”, the boys’ mother sighs.

Not waiting for the reply I continue to watch the tracks to the upcoming train. The wind whips my braid around my back loosening strands in the process so, instead of a nice neat braid I imagine I look like a crazed teenager. The commotion from the train tracks along with the vibrations under my feet grow and conversation on the platform becomes distorted under the noise. A few moments later the train pulls to a stop in front of us and the doors slide open letting out a small whoosh. Over the intercom we hear a deep voice letting passengers know which route this train is taking.

“Attention all commuters, the train from London to Dublin has arrived so you can now start boarding. Do not block the doors from closing and make sure you are seated as the train departs. Passengers have twenty minutes to board, be seated, and to situate luggage in the designated areas.”

This message is repeated once more in English then twice is Spanish after though it is translated to a few other languages that I can’t quite put my finger on. The sleek grey paint gleams against the lights from the building, the face of it slanted and long on the bottom with a rounded peak. Large rectangle windows line the side of the train placed beside every row and above the windows is a thin orange stripe outlining the black on top of the train. Walking over to one of the open entrances I am hit with a small wave of warm air which is an amazing contrast to the cool air outside. Scanning the headrests for the combined letter and number I had reserved while also talking in the rest of the interior. Happy to see that it looked exactly like it did  from the images on the website and not some run down outdated machine that I would have wasted my money on. The air carries a citrusy scent just like someone had peeled freshly picked oranges just a few moments ago and left the peels.

When you enter the train you have to turn to your right to see the seating arrangements. There are two groups of four seats on both sides of the train. The chairs on both sides facing each other with a table mounted onto the wall in between them. The cluster of seats on both sides have a decent window to look out of, letting in a natural light.  (XX - Seating Arrangements) Blue fabric covered the chairs with a black plastic headrest which had white letters and numbers in bold that should match with everyone’s individual ticket. In between the chairs on the first level made way for two small steps that lead to the second level where the rest of the seats were placed. Instead of groups of four they were now set into pairs in rows.

In the walkway it makes way for two small steps that guide passengers to the second level to the remaining seating area. It seems that the rest of the train has continued with the grouping of four seats throughout but with a bit less legroom than in the front. The white bolded A1 on my ticket also matches with the first level right cluster. Scurrying to put my duffle back in the overhead rack before sitting down I try to slide the door open but it seems to be stuck. 

“Ugh,”, groaning, I try to pull the handle with a bit more force, “please don’t do this now.”

As I continue my battle with the small door I miss the looming shadow behind me. Self loathing creeps into my chest cavity and a sheen of sweat settles onto my brow. Deciding that it isn’t worth the fight I pull the bag down and hold it against my chest.

“Would you like some help?”, the voice twists and turns into a beautiful melody carrying the Dublin accent. I turn around to face the owner of said voice but as I do my heart stutters a few times before it gets back on track. The girl who looks about my age is absolutely ethereal with caramel spotless skin with exotic dark eyes with flecks of cerulean. High cheekbones go right along her even sharper jaw and I am one hundred percent sure that it could cut glass. Her silky brown hair is pulled up into a high ponytail complimenting her double gold studded earrings. Wearing a casual pair of green combat and a beige sweater she looks like she just walked off of a runway even the worn hiking boots look amazing on her.

“Um, no thank you I will just keep my stu-ff in my lap.” My words crack and I want someone to strangle me. Gazing up at her to see expression and her eyes are lit up with laughter, the ends of her mouth curling up slightly. Trying to make myself look less like an idiot in front of this absolute goddess I begin to explain my issue.

“The door won’t open, I think something might be stuck on the track.” She nods then lifts her tickets and waves it in the air for a moment.

“Well, that might be a wee bit of an issue because I have a few carry ons.” There is a slight drawl in her voice that I didn’t notice before. I scan the three black suitcases by her feet and I guess from my drawn eyebrows she can see my confusion.

“A1 block. Seems we are going to be neighbors for our journey.”Putting her hand out this glamazon offers me her hand. “Sloane Walsh.” I return the gesture by taking her hand, “Lyra Quinn.”

Just hearing her name made me smile but, I didn’t know why. I can clearly see that she is alluring but there was no reason for my heart to skitter like it was currently doing. We smile at each other for a moment when she motions for me to step aside to make room for her to tinker with the luggage rack. Not having much room and my mind completely going blank so I step a few centimetres to the right towards the table and she squishes into the small space with me. When she begins the task of trying to fix the door we end up half pressed up against each other and the faint scent of her perfume reaches my nose. Cherry blossom was officially my favorite fragrance and I tried to keep it quiet that I was straight up sniffing a complete stranger. If she notices she keeps it to herself and I am so grateful for that, more than anyone could ever know. But that isn’t the only observation that I make, even though she is about 5’10 the rack is still a few inches taller than her so she has to tilt her head to see. But as she does this I make a note of how strong her jaw looks. I never really noted things like scents and chiseled jaw lines before but with Sloane it seems different.

I realized that I was blatantly staring at her and I looked around and became engrossed in the window on the opposite side of the train. Noticing that nobody was seated in the sets in the other block across from us and I can’t tell if that is good or really bad. Sloane’s body is moving back and forth with the adjusting of the door on the cargo hold but I do my best not to notice her body pressed against mine. With a small grunt I hear a clunk and then cold air hits me after I had gotten used to the warmth of another.

“Got it!”,The triumphant smile that stretches across her face is undeniably breathtaking. “You can put your bag in first and I can take the rest of the space.” Knowing that if I respond I will embarrass myself more so, I only nod. Hauling my duffel and pushing it as far back as I could manage to make room for Sloane. Turning back around to meet her eyes again I realize that she is so much taller than my 5’4 frame and honestly I love that fact. 

“Would you like me to put your things in here? Or I could move out of your way if - if that’s okay with you?” Mentally scolding myself I don’t pay attention to Sloane and her response to my question. 

“Actually that would really be helpful! But I do have to warn ya’ that they are a bit dense.” 

“That’s fine I grew up on a farm. I’m used to dealing with bales of hay.” Mouth kicking up into a wide smile she wheels the first case over to me and I grab the handle effectively yanking it into place next to mine. This one was the smallest so it wasn’t that heavy but the same cannot be said for the second one. When I tried to complete the same process for the second it didn’t even budge. Grunting, I try again to pick it up and this time at least it moves about three millimetres when my arm gives out.

“There is no way this is under the weight limit. How were you allowed to board?” Trying to lift her luggage actually had me sweating. But she doesn’t seem offended, quite the opposite she bursts out laughing, the lilting sounds warms my chest letting me relax. Seeing her amusement makes me want to smile right along with her and when I do it feels so foreign which makes me wonder what was the last time a smile played on my lips. 

“I might have used my foot to hold it up but, just a wee bit. But if you really want to think about it, I am just testing the train to see if it is as strong as in the adverts. Really though this is all in the name of safety, darlin’.” Chuckling, I stepped out of the small feet area so she could scoot in to put her bags up.

Grabbing the bag in one swift motion she slides the carry on into place almost gracefully and if I’m being honest I am a bit impressed. While she is arranging the third bag I hear passengers beginning to fill up the block next to us, B2. The group middle aged adults are boisterous, seeming to be good friends. As I get a better look at them I observe that each of them has a coat on with the same logo, a bird with its wings tucked into its side perched in a pair of cupped hands. Unite is written in cursive script under the image and I wonder if they are part of an animal welfare organization. Looking away from the group and ignoring their loud conversations I see that Sloane is closing the door with ease and I glare at the rack.

I ask, “Everything set now?”

“Ya’ thanks love for your help, glad I got a nice neighbor and not a wanker. One time I sat with this man and the whole time he muttered to himself about how inappropriate my trousers were with holes in them. He wanted to complain but he also liked the view of my chest,pervert. I swear to God if I had to spend more time with him I might have thrown him out of the window.” As she says this she waddles out of the small foot space and crosses to the other side across from my seat and sits down.

“Did you say anything to him about it?” The thought of some creep staring at her, making her uncomfortable makes my blood boil. I mean every woman that I know myself included had a story of a man acting like females owe them something just because they have a penis in between their chicken legs.

“Ah no I never did the chance but I did fake a call to tell my mother about some creepy prick who couldn’t keep his thoughts in his little pea brain.” This makes us laugh at the thought but doesn’t take away from the anger.

The topic changes and the mood lightens while we talk about weird experiences we’ve had at train stations and airports, the crazy people we have met on the way. As the conversation flows from thing to thing I don’t realize how the sun sets and the time passes. This trip was supposed to be about eight hours but it felt like thirty minutes spending time with this alluring woman, still not understanding how she would find me the least bit interesting next to her. I spare a glance out of the window and my eyes seem to tumble out of their sockets. I guess my face was very noticeable when she commented.

“Beautiful isn’t it? Dublin always did have the best cliffs. As a young lass I could watch the waves crash down below for hours. My mother used to scold me ‘cause I would lose track of time so much.” Her eyes seem wistful but my eyes are drawn out of the widow.

We were riding on the side of a mountain and were given a perfect seat to watch the surf beat against the base of the cliffs. Vibrant light hitting the water of all colors, the oranges and yellows in contrast to the purples and blues from the sun setting and the moon rising. The variance of these two pallets was magnificent. But overhead there were hills and slopes covered in sage grass so lively it almost seemed fake. Even at home in our fields we never had such healthy grass as I’ve seen here. The wind was blowing vigorously and the waves picked up and the collision of water was a wonder to behold. It was so crisp and clear, more than anything I was ever exposed to before. For seventeen years of my life I never knew that I was deprived of such striking terrain but now that I did I don’t think I could look at anything else and not compare it to this one sight.

The train was moving fast on the tracks towards our destination and the further we went the more of the vast ocean I was blessed to see. I looked into the horizon and it almost seemed like this water would never end. The sapphire blue of the sea was as salient as my next breath that would fill my lungs, my eyes trying to note everything that I see not wanting to miss a single thing. I don’t know if it was actually possible to miss something that was right in front of you, just the thought of forgetting a detail makes me want to weep. 

“How could you leave this behind?”Why would someone who had this leave I wonder.