Till death do us part

Sophie. Sophie, wake up.

Sophie strained to hear the distant, pleading voice. It was familiar and soothing, and one she hadn’t heard in far too long.

Sophie, please, don’t leave us like this.

She wanted so badly to tell the voice that she didn’t want to go, but for some reason no sound came out of her throat.

“Sophie.” There was a firm hand on her shoulder, shaking her demandingly. Sophie groaned and groggily rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “Come on, wake up. Get your ticket ready, the conductor will be by soon.” She knew that blunt knife of a voice. She blinked slowly, pushing herself upright off the seat she must’ve fallen asleep on, and peered around her with all the orientation of a newborn baby foal. Which is to say she had to lean heavily against the wall and back of the chair for support as the rhythmic lilting sway of the ground below her made her half-asleep head spin.

Du-dun du-dun, clacked the distinctive sound of train wheels passing over rail joints. Her head bounced against the vibrating wall, and she did her best to concentrate over the consistent low rumbling noise of the train’s movements. Du-dun du-dun, went the train, as Sophie looked around their small private compartment. It must be a very old train, for its vintage interior showed its many years of wear in the threadbare patches on the once luxuriously upholstered velvet seats, in the many scuffs and scratches that marred the wooden floor, and in the light - nestled within a wrought iron fixture overhead - that flickered dramatically every time the train went over a small bump. Intricately carved wooden panels decorated the roof and walls, and through a dust-covered window to her left, Sophie watched as dark, indistinct shapes flashed by, illuminated against the last of the receding sunlight. The door to the compartment was closed, and had a small peephole for peering out into a long and narrow hallway.

Du-dun, du-dun. Across from Sophie sat a slim man with runner’s legs that bounced impatiently, and thick eyebrows that furrowed into a sullen scowl. Sophie knew that expression well - the certain tightness to his lips, the firm set in his jaw, the lightning flashing behind his blue eyes where they were shadowed beneath his dark brows. He was irritated by something, and by the way he kept glancing out the window and toward the door, Sophie could tell that for once it wasn’t her.

She rifled through her pockets for the ticket. She supposed she’d better find it and avoid making things worse. But as she turned her pockets inside out one by one, an unsettling realisation began to creep its way out of her stomach and up her back.

“Um...” she said uneasily.

Caleb glanced her way briefly. “Did you find it?”

“No, I think I must have lost it,” Sophie said. “But, um... What are we doing here? I don’t remember how we got here.”

Caleb’s brows furrowed further, and suddenly his full attention was focused on her. “You don’t remember?” he asked incredulously.

“I don’t. I’m a little freaked out, to be honest.”

“Okay,” Caleb said, sucking in a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Just going to point out, this is exactly why I told you to stay away from alcohol. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Sophie’s lips twisted to the side. She didn’t remember drinking, and she certainly didn’t feel like she’d just woken up after consuming enough alcohol to get blackout drunk. She just felt... tired, stretched, like there was some part of her snagged on a hook somewhere back at the station and the train was pulling her thinner and thinner as it travelled further away. But she supposed Caleb must remember what had happened better than she did. “I... remember rushing to pack a suitcase, and getting in the car,” she said uncertainly.

“Anything after that?”

Sophie ran her hand through her hair, thinking hard. “...No, that’s it,” she said.

Caleb crossed his arms. “Do you remember why you got in the car?”

Sophie’s eyes scrunched tight, as though squinting would help her see the memory more clearly. “I was... leaving...”

“Yeah. We were leaving,” Caleb said, “For our trip. Remember? We’re going to Vegas this weekend, for my business.”

Sophie tucked a stray strand of light hair behind her ears. That did sound familiar, but... she was sure there were some details missing. She hadn’t wanted to go to Las Vegas, after all. She’d wanted to go to her sister’s wedding. But then Caleb had already gone and booked the tickets for the both of them, and Sophie felt as though she was talking to a brick wall when she tried asking him to cancel or refund hers.

“...I thought you booked plane tickets...?” she asked slowly.

Caleb looked at her strangely and rolled his eyes. “No, I booked train tickets. Train. Honestly. And you say I’m the one that doesn’t listen.” He sighed heavily, breath laden with disappointment, and shook his head. “Make sure to stay away from alcohol this weekend,” he said. “You just get worse every time you drink. I thought your friends were the problem, but it seems you really are on the path to becoming an alcoholic.”

Sophie stared at Caleb in slack-jawed disbelief. “Can we not do this right now? My head’s still fuzzy.”

“Yeah, I wonder why that is,” Caleb said, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, but I’m not missing this chance to feel vindicated. All you do is deny and complain that I’m nagging you whenever I bring this up.”

Sophie bit her lip to stop herself from retorting with the same clockwork response she’d used the last time they’d had this argument, and the time before that, and the time before that. She was too tired to rehearse this play with him again right now, too drained to partake in the conversational equivalent of smashing her head against a brick wall. So instead she curled up in her corner of the compartment with her back against the wall, and looked blankly at the jeans fabric covering her knees, silently tracing the diagonal pattern of the weave with a finger.

“Well, it can’t be helped,” Caleb said, with a ring of triumph in his voice and a slight smirk on his face. “I’ll just have to go look for your ticket. It’s probably in the bathroom where you threw up.” He stood abruptly, and handed Sophie a small rectangle of thin yellowing card. “You take mine in the meantime. Show it to the conductor if they come through before I’m back.”

“What if you can’t find it?” Sophie asked, inspecting the ticket. The ink was too blotched and patchy to make out most of the words, but Sophie was able to read First Class printed right above a big black blob that was probably supposed to represent the train’s origin and destination. A red ticket number was printed along the top of the card, but it was so long it got cut off in the middle of a 3 and had to start looping down the side instead.

Caleb shrugged. “I’ll just have to talk to the conductor. I should be back soon, you stay here.” He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. It closed behind him with a small click.

Suddenly the only passengers in the compartment were Sophie and her uneasiness, and the only sounds the clacking and rattling of the train as it moved.

Sophie stared expressionlessly in the general direction of the small train ticket, eyes unfocused. Had she really drunk enough to black out? It didn’t make any sense. She never went out of her way to drink unless she was having fun with her friends, and that was true before she met Caleb. She certainly didn’t feel hungover, or like she’d thrown up - there was no strange taste in her mouth nor a burn in her throat. Sophie sniffed the cotton fabric of her shirt. It smelt the same as when she had put it on that morning - a faint scent of old perfume and her citrusy laundry detergent, with not a single whiff of alcohol or bile.

She bit her lip and drew her knees close to her chest. So he’d probably lied again. But why? She scrunched her eyes closed and rested her head against the back of the chair. Why does he treat me like this? Her fingers dug into her legs unconsciously, hard enough to pinch her skin. She didn’t really notice. She was too busy trying to answer the same questions she’d failed to answer for the last year and a half, the same questions that had kept her up at night and worn her spirit ragged and thin.

Sophie sighed. She wondered how her sister was doing. She hadn’t had many chances to see her since she and Caleb had started dating. She really, really wished she could have been there for her.

“...Ticket, please,” said an unfamiliar voice, jarring Sophie from her unpleasant reverie. A man with amber eyes and rust red wavy hair stood in the doorway, dressed head to toe in a white and gold conductor’s uniform.

“Oh,” Sophie said, realising she hadn’t even heard him open the door, “Uh, here.”

The conductor politely took the ticket from Sophie’s outstretched hand, frowning slightly as he briefly examined it. His eyes flicked back and forth between the illegible ticket and Sophie. “This isn’t your ticket,” he said simply.

Sophie’s eyes narrowed sceptically. How can he tell? “That’s my boyfriend’s ticket. I... lost mine.” She paused, wondering just how much of Caleb’s story had been a lie.

The conductor raised an eyebrow. “You lost yours?”

“Um, actually” Sophie corrected. “I... don’t remember how I got here. I’m not sure I have a ticket.”

The conductor nodded. “I see. Well, you can’t be on board without a ticket, I’m afraid - I can either issue you one, or send you home. Which would you prefer?”

“Home,” Sophie said without a second thought. “I’d like to go home.”

“Then I shall get things prepared for your departure,” The conductor said with a well-mannered smile, as he tucked Caleb’s ticket into his front pocket. “Please wait here until my return.” He gave a slight bow and left, and the door once again shut with a small click. Suddenly the only passengers in the compartment were Sophie and her abundance of incredibly mixed feelings, and the only sounds the clacking and rattling of the train as it moved.

She ran her fingers through her hair and chewed on her thumb as she thought of what Caleb would think of her sudden decision to go home. He’d be furious, surely. What if I don’t tell him? But he’d bought her ticket for this trip, it was only right that she told him she suddenly wasn’t going. But I never wanted to go on this stupid trip in the first place. And he knew that. He knew my sister’s wedding was this weekend. But he pretended I’d never told him.

She buried her face in her hands. Why am I even here in the first place? I wasn’t going to go. I told him I wasn’t going to go. But all that surfaced from her fractured memories of this morning were distant sounds of a routine argument where nothing she said was heard because he was too busy listening to the sound of his own voice. I’m certain he bought plane tickets. She remembered him printing them out last night, folding them up and putting them inside his wallet.

Sophie peeked through her fingers at the seat opposite her own, where Caleb’s jacket lay in a neat bundle to the side. He usually kept his wallet in his jeans pocket, but... She glanced towards the door as she finally uncoiled herself from her corner, and shuffled closer to it. She swiftly cracked the door open, peered both ways down the long, empty corridor of the train carriage, and shut it. It was now or never.

Her hands shook slightly as she unfolded the black leather bomber jacket. It absolutely reeked of the cologne he liked to use, a scent so overpowering it made Sophie feel lightheaded. She patted down the jacket, her fingers feeling for anything out of place.

There was a wallet-sized lump, but no corresponding outside pocket. Sophie reached inside the jacket and pulled out Caleb’s worn black leather bifold wallet from within a well-hidden opening along the jacket lining. It was stuffed full with various cards. She opened it and checked the pocket Caleb usually used for cash.

Folded white papers stood out against the black lining fabric, right where she remembered they would be. She took the papers and returned the wallet to its place, straightening and scanning them as she sat back down.

Plane tickets, for her and Caleb, just as she’d thought. Yet here they were on a train.

Click. Sophie instinctively hid the tickets behind her, and resumed her huddled position in the corner. She watched the door closely, hoping it’d be the conductor - but alas, it was Caleb.

He walked in with a storm on his face and flopped onto his chair, straight into the position of a sulk - arms crossed and brows furrowed, eyes staring distantly at the floor by his feet. “Did the conductor come by?” he asked after a few moments of silence, his voice flat and dull.

“Yeah,” Sophie said. “He knew it wasn’t my ticket, though.”

Caleb’s eyes snapped to hers suspiciously. “How was he even able to tell the difference?”

Sophie shrugged. “I honestly have no idea.”

“You told him, didn’t you?”

“Seriously, he just knew.”

Caleb grunted distrustfully and returned to glaring at the floorboards. Sophie watched his every movement, his every breath, like a hawk.

“So?” he said angrily. “What’d he do when he found out you’d gone and lost your ticket?”

“He was very polite,” Sophie said lightly. “He said he could either issue me a new one or send me home.”

Caleb’s shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Let’s get you a new ticket, then. I won’t have the money I’ve spent on this trip wasted.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Sophie shrugged, “I actually ended up finding my ticket.”

“Seriously? Where?” There was that incredulous look again, but this time with a hint of a smirk around his lips.

Sophie smiled thinly. “In your wallet, believe it or not,” she said, holding the printed plane tickets out to him. “I thought you might have decided to keep my ticket safe for me.”

Caleb’s face, usually the pale colour of milk, turned sour. “You went through my wallet.”

“You lied to me-”

“You went through my wallet!”

“Because you lied!”

“No, because you don’t trust me.” He glared at her down a nose wrinkled in contempt, his lips pulled back in preparation for what was coming next. “You’ve never trusted me. You’re always accusing me of lying or misrepresenting things.” The words hit Sophie’s skull with a familiar dull thud, like a hammer on an anvil. She opened her mouth to protest, but she was cut off before she could even get out a syllable. “So what if I fudged the truth a little? There’s no point in telling you the truth anyways, since you never believe a word I say. And frankly, I’m sick of having my every motive doubted and every word scrutinised-” He went on and on, and Sophie retreated silently into the corner, silently inside her mind. What was even the point of trying to fight back when he never intended to listen in the first place? So instead she did her best to shut out the same words he’d thrown at her last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. They hit her again and again and again, never a moment to breathe, too loud for her to hear her own thoughts. They thudded against her skull, a familiar and rhythmic sensation. Sophie’s eyes were open, but she could see nothing. She wanted to speak, but her voice died in her throat. She could only sit there and stew in her own scattered thoughts until he finally decided to shutup.

“...So really, I think you owe me an apology,” he finished, looking down at her expectantly with triumphant, glaring eyes. Du-dun du-dun, went the train, and Sophie sucked in a deep and desperate breath. Never did she think she’d be so relieved to hear the rattling, rumbling sounds of a train, but anything was better than Caleb’s vindictive voice.

“Why am I on this train?” she asked, after taking a moment to collect her thoughts.

Caleb scoffed. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I asked this first, when I woke up.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “And I answered after you asked. And what do you have to say to everything I brought up just now?”

Sophie’s eyes darkened. “Your answer doesn’t make any sense. I never wanted to go on this trip, I was supposed to go to my sister’s wedding. So why am I here?”

Caleb scowled at her uncomfortably. “Ask yourself that. You’re the one that decided to come along.”

“Did I?” Sophie said uncertainly, her eyes glazing over as she tried to remember.

“Sophie, come on. We’ve already been over this.”

“We had an argument this morning,” Sophie said, “I think it was about the trip. Because I said I wasn’t going to go.”

“Clearly, I won the argument.”

Sophie gazed emptily in the direction of the door. “I threw my suitcase-”

“-Into my car, yes, because we had to leave for the trip.”

“-Into my car. Because I was leaving you. Again.” Sophie narrowed her eyes. “And you followed me in your car while spamming the hell out of my phone. Again.”

“Sophie-”

“I never went on this trip, Caleb. I left you for good and went to go see my family. So why am I here?”

“Sophie, please-”

“What did you do to me, Caleb?” Sophie’s voice cracked as she asked that question, her muscles stiff and petrified.

“Please, Sophie, I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh dear,” said a now familiar voice. The conductor stood in the open doorway, glancing between Sophie who was huddled frozen in her corner, and Caleb whose entire demeanour had changed to become pleading and placating. “Am I interrupting?”

“No-” said Sophie.

“-Yes,” interrupted Caleb.

The conductor smiled considerately at Sophie. “To answer your question, miss, what he did to you in this specific instance was crash his car at high-speed into your own, because he was too preoccupied with his phone to realise you had stopped at a light. Incidentally, that is also the answer to your earlier question of ‘Why am I here?’”

Sophie felt numb and nauseous. Caleb was kneeling before her, apologising and pleading for her to understand, but she couldn’t bear to look at him. “So I - we’re dead?”

“This man here most certainly is,” said the conductor, gesturing towards Caleb. “But you, miss, came aboard without a ticket. Which means not quite.” He held his hand out toward her. “I’ve completed the preparations, miss. I can send you home if that’s still what you would like.”

Sophie stared at the conductor’s white gloved, outstretched hand. She took it in a daze. “I should like that very much.”

“Wait,” Caleb said desperately, as the conductor helped Sophie to her feet. “She has a ticket. I’m the one without a ticket.”

Sophie’s fists clenched hard enough for her nails to dig into her palms, and the conductor looked at Caleb in mild bewilderment. “Ah, yes, sir. That does remind me...” The conductor pulled Caleb’s ticket from his front pocket, holding it out politely for Caleb to take. “You really ought to be more careful, sir. You wouldn’t want to lose your ticket, now, would you?” The ticket fell from the conductor’s fingers and fluttered gently to the floor. Caleb silently watched its descent.

The conductor straightened. “Now, miss, we really must be going. If you could please follow me...”

Sophie and the conductor stepped out into the hallway, and the door shut behind them with a small click. There was another small click as the conductor turned a key in the lock. Suddenly Sophie was free from the compartment, and the clacking, rattling sounds of the train as it moved drowned out Caleb’s pleas for her to stay. She would leave him for good this time, and he couldn’t follow.