. . . a surprise sleeper
‘Are you excited?’ Noah asks, tugging the zip of my suitcase.
I wiggle as I sit on top of it, hoping it will help. He pulls at the zip harder and it budges ever so slightly. The two of us grin at each other in success.
After the colossal mind-ruining run of dates that was Lina and then Johann, I chose to actively take a few days off from dating.
I planned to use them to reset, take walks and catch up on articles, but I ended up stuck in my bed, watching movies on my phone.
Noah would pop in to check on me and bring me food, but it quickly became clear that I needed to be alone.
It’s been almost two months of non-stop movement, late nights and more emotional tax than I can bear .
. . I think I’m entitled to four days of bed rotting just this once.
Now, after an embarrassingly needed shower, I feel like an entirely new woman. Between the recharged social battery and the promise of a big move, I’m ready to attack this trip with all I have.
‘I’ve never been on a sleeper train before,’ I say to Noah.
‘Me neither, but I’m excited. I sleep great on trains,’ he says, bragging.
‘I know. You snore great too,’ I say teasingly.
He shakes his head at me, hands still on my suitcase. ‘I can leave this, you know. And then good luck getting it to close on your own.’
‘I take it back – you sleep like an angel,’ I say, much to his amusement.
My four days of wallowing worried Noah exponentially and he never stopped trying new ways to bring me out of it.
After various meals, invites out and movie-night suggestions, he brought out the big guns with an escape plan.
He marched into my room brainstorming our next destination, and insisted we move countries entirely.
After throwing around options and researching accommodation, we settled on a foray into Italy.
The journey from Vienna to Rome is, unsurprisingly, very long, and since I refuse to waste another full day on a train Noah suggested that we take a sleeper.
I was extremely on board, more out of curiosity than anything else.
It feels like the kind of experience you should have on a trip like this and I reckon it could make quite a cute pic for socials.
He took care of the tickets and the schedule for the day, and all I’ve really had to do is pack my case and show up.
Which is great, because the way this week has gone it’s all I’ve had the energy to do.
We make it to the station in good time so we can grab French fries for dinner before boarding our bedroom for the night.
Then I follow as he pulls my suitcase through the train, watching the sides of it knock against the narrow hallway.
I just know that he’s biting his tongue to stop himself from once again stressing that I should have brought a duffle bag, but I respect his efforts to keep it contained.
He’s been a little sweeter towards me since the whole Johann debacle.
He scans each door as we walk past, mouthing the numbers to himself and continuously checking the number on our tickets. Soon he comes to a halt outside one of the doors, looking back at me with a smile.
‘Our room for the night,’ he says, gesturing proudly to the door.
‘Thrilling,’ I respond sarcastically.
He laughs, shaking his head as he tugs at the lever and the door starts to slide open.
‘Come on, Am, this is the height of luxury! How can you deny the . . . oh.’
His whole body freezes. He pauses in the doorframe, blocking me from view so all I can see is his shocked and, if I’m not mistaken, incredibly embarrassed face.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, pulse quickening.
‘Well, I . . . well, they . . . I . . . erm . . .’
He reaches for his phone, frantically scrolling through emails.
I’ve not seen him this flustered before and it starts to make me feel sick. My mind runs through a list of possible scenarios, each worse than the last.
‘What? Wrong train? Wrong day? Are we illegal hitchhikers?’ My panic is shrill enough it seems to pull him out of his own. He glances over, notes my face and pauses to take a breath.
‘No, sorry. I shouldn’t have panicked you like that. It’s not even that big of a deal, it’s just . . .’ He pauses. ‘The website didn’t have English translations, and I guess I interpreted it wrong and . . .’
A mild rosy hue rolls up his face.
‘You’re scaring me. What did you do?’ I ask.
I try to peek around his shoulder, but it’s no use thanks to the obscenely narrow hallway.
‘I’m really sorry, Amorie.’ He nervously bites his lip before continuing. ‘I just, seem to have booked a double room instead of a twin . . . There’s only one bed.’