So my friends I finally have continued my story ! I got so much amazing and wonderful and lovely feedback on my last post which you can find here, I would recommend reading that first before reading this one because well the story wont make sense ahah.
So here it is ! I hope you guys like it:
I was on the train for one stop, about ten minutes, before the phone calls began to ring in. The first was my mother. She wasn’t in Paris; she wouldn’t have known that I even left. When I saw her name I felt a small sting, so no one in Paris has noticed my absence yet. I told her that I was heading for Vienna, she laughed and told me to have a good trip. The next call was from Madame Mimiex, I had left too much money for the rent. I told her to keep it. Finally, a call came. It was from Hugo.
Hugo was my only regret for leaving Paris. He had become a close friend, closer than any of my friends really. He asked if I was okay, why I wasn’t home and why all of my belongings were gone. He isn’t stupid.
“Hugo, you’re not stupid. You know why my belongings are gone.” I laugh over the phone.
After a conversation filled with banter and empty happiness I hung up. He promised to visit. We both knew that he wouldn’t visit.
I sat for what seemed like a lifetime. Just looking out the window. Looking. Looking at the little cottage towns, the crispy orange ends of green leaves – a sign that summer was fading into cooler nights, orange tones and frosty mornings.
I thought about the whole concept of seasons. Why is it that our routines, habits, change with the weather? I mean, yea some things are obvious – you wear more clothes in the colder months, and maybe you spend more time looking at the sea rather than swimming in it. But, why do the colours, moods, emotions, and little habits change. During cold months, my mum would have the habit of curling up on the sofa at 4 in the afternoon with a book. In summer she would be dancing around the house barefoot. In summer my high school friends and I would giggle about summer flings. During the holidays we wanted true love.
And the worst thing is, this is a cycle that just continues – again, again, again. Like a child asking you to throw them in the air again. It’s like we forget what it was like last year, so we must ah repeat it.
This is something that I struggle with – routine. It just seems silly to me – that you would want to repeat the same thing every day. When you move around a lot you can change the routine, stay in the same place too long and the habits become carved into you.
As you can see a lot of thinking, pondering and wondering occurred in between the first stop and the second. When the train pulled into the next platform things began to, change.
I sat there waiting, waiting for the train to pick up passengers and drop off individuals, waiting for the train to continue on its journey. When you travel – there is a lot of waiting.
The door to my carriage opened and in the frame stood a tall, dark haired, olive skinned boy, or uh man? He smiled at me – a goofy smile, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Would I be able to sit here? All the other carriages are full, or hmm occupied by people I would rather not spend the next few hours with.”
I just nodded and shrugged.
He was handsome – most definitely handsome. And he carried himself in such a manner that I had never seen before – so careless, yet careful at the same time. I can’t explain it. The only thing in his possession was a large leather suitcase, with gold buckles. It looked old, expensive and valuable.
“Nice suitcase.” Damn, it just came out – nice one Rosie.
“Ahaha thanks, it’s part of the family.”
“It looks very old and uh expensive and well valuable.” Really Rosie, really????
“Yea,” he smiled that goofy smile again, “It is all of those things.”
I smiled and went quiet, best to not say anything at all, just look out the window and stop embarrassing yourself.
After a nice length of awkward silence he spoke again.
“I’m Nicholas, nice to meet you.”
Dear lord I hate myself. Lets just crawl into a hole now.
“Well, pleased to make your acquaintance Rosie.”
I frowned, and teased him, “Acquaintance???”
“I’m a very traditional man – all the men in my family are.”
I laughed, he smiled. Then more silence
“So, where are you headed?”
“Well, looks like we are going to be neighbours,” he smiled again, damn stop smiling I feel like I might melt.
“You’re headed for Vienna as well?”
“Yes, I’ve been dying to see the city, and I have some family there that I am required to see. Why are you headed there? Travels? Work? Boyfriend?” The last one took me by surprise, the word just hung there in the air; I could almost see it floating around like an awkward intrusive balloon.
“Well, does one have to have a reason?”
“A gypsy huh?”
“No, well, god I, I don’t know – I’ve never thought of myself as, well, um,” dear lord Rosie please please try and string a sentence together.
The thing was, I had never had to explain to someone my reason for being in a certain place at a certain time. The truth is I had never even given myself a reason for being in the places that I had lived in. Yea there was something that drew me to the city that made me think it would be a good place for my next home base, but there was never any real reason. I wandered. I just got on a plane or a train or a boat or in a car and I would just go. No purpose, no reason, no real drive or incentive – just a need to keep moving.
I guess the question just took me off guard.