They’d gone on much longer than she’d expected them to. A quick bite had turned to two courses, a drink had turned to five, and suddenly it was eleven and they both needed to be in the office bright and early tomorrow morning.
The station was largely deserted. Aside from a few pigeons, there was only Grace herself and a middle-aged gentleman in sight. He wore a long black trench coat which, with his slicked-back hair and platform boots, made him look like a time traveller—a visitor from a sci-fi metropolis.
‘The next train to arrive at platform ‘five a’ is the twenty-three fifty-two service to Birmingham International,’ came the announcement.
Grace waited until twin suns beamed from the end of the track, signalling the train’s arrival. She stood from the frozen metal bench and waited for it to dock before approaching it. Wholly robotic, she waited by the door until the button flashed. She pressed it. She wove through the seats, found herself a seat, and sat. Earphones in, phone plugged in, Grace’s very veins fused to the wires and cables—her blood pumping into the mains with each heartbeat.
A message came through with a buzz and a flash and Grace tapped it immediately. From Lailah, a lukewarm sentiment: Thank you for tonight. Let me know you get home safe. Her fingers moved across the keyboard as though newly oiled and expertly programmed, drafting all forms of thank you’s and me too’s. But suddenly she became unplugged, and her hinges turned to joints, and she decided to leave it a little while. She’d reply once the cocktails had settled in her stomach and the chill had thawed from her bones. Her eyes drifted upwards, to messages previously exchanged.
I’m parked. Meet you by the lions?
Of course, just leaving the station.
*****
They’d been meeting by the lions since their school days. Weekends spent with newfound freedom and their parents’ money flitted past her mind’s eye. Days out buying friendship bracelets and fake nails had turned into ‘maybe just a coffee ‘cause I’m broke after uni’. Now, here they were, almost ten years on, still meeting between the two huge lion statues that dominated the entrance of City Hall.
‘So, what else do you have to tell me? No. So, what do you have to tell me, because I have quite something to tell you.’
Grace was well aware she was acting crazy, talking to herself while stood outside in the cold. She waited at their meeting place, between lions who had been tamed into stone mid roar. Hopping from one suede boot to the other, she pulled her leather jacket tighter around her. She buried her chin, her lips, in the neck of it. Glancing up she saw Lailah’s signature red coat flitting through the square like a cardinal. Two arms strained forward, waving frantically as she made her approach. Grace always hated this part. This strange moving towards one another. She couldn’t run at her, that would be far too much of a fuss and she’d think her excitement ingenuine. She couldn’t just stand there and watch her approach, that felt predatory, as though she were lying in wait. As always, she settled on a fumbling with her jacket, pretending to fix something somewhere just to busy her hands and her mind, before making her way to Lailah.
Lailah was perfection. She had been since they were little. Big brown eyes dominated her face, masterfully outlined in thick black kohl. Warm pink blush complemented her dark skin, leaving a gentle wash of colour across her cheekbones. She flicked her braids behind her shoulder and held her arms out wide. Grace tumbled into her, winding her arms about her waist, and Lailah returned the ferocity of her embrace by burying her head in Grace’s choppy blonde bob. Just a moment too quick, Lailah pulled away slightly and beamed at her.
‘Okay, let’s get inside. I’m so cold.’
Grace laughed, ‘I know! It feels like it should be October, not July.’
Lailah laced her arm through Grace’s and headed to the east side of the city, where even on a Tuesday night tributaries of traffic flowed through the streets. The thing that always shocked Grace about being in the city was how alive it felt. She’d been taught that concrete couldn’t breathe, that neon lights didn’t have their own thoughts and aspirations, but she simply couldn’t believe it was true. Banks rose from the pavement like mountains, and the fountain replaced waterfalls. Who needs to see the stars when streetlamps light your way?
‘You remember Izzy? From school?’ Grace said, as they turned the corner away from the modern shops in great old buildings and towards the shopping centres.
‘Vaguely.’ Lailah furrowed her brow and stared down at the cobbled street. ‘Was she the one who brought vodka on the Belgium trip?’
‘Oh my God, yes,’ Grace cried. ‘I can’t believe I forgot about that, that was crazy.’
Lailah laughed and shook her head, ‘I know. Genuinely insane.’ Then, after a pause, ‘what about Izzy?’
‘Ah, well, I walked into work the other day and guess who’s sat in reception, behind the desk?’
‘No!’
‘Yes!’ Grace howled.
Entirely aghast, Lailah stopped dead in the street, ‘she’s working for your dad? Did she say anything to you?’
‘Not really,’ Grace said as they linked arms once more and continued their journey. ‘We just had this funny moment where we acknowledged each other and just… got on with it, I guess.’
Lailah giggled and shook her head until the heel of her orange stiletto slipped between the cobblestones, and she suddenly sobered up. Upon leaving the old town the cobbles became disjointed. They were less consciously orchestrated and more like pebbles strewn across a beach. It was only after meditating on this that Grace noticed Lailah had clutched her arm to stop herself from falling, and even though she was now righted she hadn’t let go. She looked down at the hands on her arm, terrified.
*****
‘Excuse me? I said, is someone sitting here?’
Lailah launched out of her reverie right as one train passed another, causing that awful wailing sound that echoes screeching banshees. She pulled her earphones out and looked up at the woman in front of her.
‘Uh, sorry, no. No like nobody’s sat here, not no you can’t sit here.’
The woman was elderly, with a long black cane which seemed to barely aid her movement. With some effort she managed to lower herself into the seat across the table from Grace. The wrinkles by her eyes were light, barely discernible even under the clinical lights of the train. All that really exposed her age was of course the cane, and her afro of warm grey. Grace looked down at her phone. A text from her mum.
On your way home?
A sudden, muffled voice sounded throughout the carriage, announcing some kind of arrival at some kind of place. Grace screwed her eyes up tight in an effort to hear better, but she could barely make out a single syllable until the final and crystal clear ‘Thank you.’
The woman across from her tutted. ‘Terrible, isn’t it? Isn’t it terrible?’
Grace managed a small smile and rubbed her eyes. ‘Quite.’
‘This isn’t your stop, I hope?’
‘No, no, I’m a little further—’
Her phone lay buzzing on the table, both her and the woman looking at it and then at each other and then back at the phone—at “ICE Mum” lighting up the screen. Grace sat staring at it as though she’d never received a call before.
The lady looked at her befuddled, as if wondering whether Grace was just going to let it ring.
The train came to a stop.
The doors opened.
Grace dismissed the call.
*****
‘So, what else do you have to tell me?’ Grace had said, espresso martini in hand, smiling from ear to ear. She’d finally relinquished the jacket and sat across the table from Lailah in the shirt and jeans she’d worn into the office that day. It was the same outfit that her dad had called unprofessional, and she’d defended as business casual. Somewhat absent-mindedly she scratched at the cool-toned red lipstick she’d printed onto the rim of her martini glass.
‘There is something, actually.’ Lailah said.
Grace giggled. ‘Oh?’
‘I had an interview last week,’ Lailah said.
Sitting back in her chair, Grace became aware of the hustle of the restaurant becoming a distant hum though she knew it was all just behind her. She put down her glass on the dark wood of the table. ‘Right…’ she said, confused as to why the mood seemed so serious.
Lailah sighed and began to fidget with her spoon, spinning it on its end like it was a ballerina en pointe. Grace opened her mouth to ask what, exactly, was so unnerving about this obvious rejection, but as she did so Lailah blurted ‘America.’
Grace was unfazed. ‘What about it?’
A deep breath, and then: ‘The interview was for our sister company.’ Lailah finally put down the spoon and looked her dead in the eye. ‘The sister company is in the states.’
It took Grace a moment to piece it all together—the fact that this was not a rejection, but an acceptance; the fact that Lailah had made these decisions without even letting her know. A deep blush seeped into her cheeks; she became overwhelmingly hot. ‘Congratulations,’ she whispered.
*****
The muffled voice once again invaded the carriage, interlaced with the soft snores of the elderly woman sat across the table. Having declined her mum’s call she decided to text her back.
I’m two stops away.
At the current stop, a group of students stumbled their way onto the carriage in an eruption of chatter permeated with screeches. Once they were seated and the train began to move, riotous laughter rang through the train. It was followed by a combination of don’t you dare’s and what are you doing’s, each yelled louder than the last. The elderly woman stirred for a moment, launching out of sleep before turning onto her side, cheek pressed into the cold plastic of the chair. Intrigued by the commotion, Grace poked her head into the aisle, and watched one of the group dance between the seats. Her mass of red curls bounced with each movement, swinging from the left to the right. Grace couldn’t hear any music, but the girl seemed to be mouthing the words to whatever it was she was dancing to. Mahogany lip liner had become smudged on the left side of her bottom lip. Upon spinning around, the girl caught Grace’s eye. She smiled at Grace and maintained eye contact while continuing to move.
Grace sat back in her seat and turned her phone volume up to max. She leant her head against the window and watched pitch-black nothingness roll by.
*****
They’d declared how much they’d miss one another, with Lailah promising video calls and constant updates. Grace had sat there motionless, becoming as statuesque as those lions they’d met at hours before. It seemed to Grace that if she stopped moving the world may stop right along with her. The warm lights had become too heavy, the small, dark table had suddenly become claustrophobic.
After dinner, they’d both walked out of the restaurant with their arms folded, half to shield themselves from the cold and half to shield themselves from each other. Grace glanced up at Lailah, who flashed her a half smile in return.
‘Well…’ Grace said.
Lailah sighed. ‘Well indeed.’
Braving the cold, she stuck out her hand towards Grace who took it in her own. The night seemed to have taken a turn with everyone in a hundred-mile radius coming into the city—migrating from their every day like rats from a sewer. They’d set up colonies here too. Not far from where they stood, groups of revellers were roaring with laughter, while someone somewhere was screeching in an argument only brought to the surface when liquor hit. Light shone in clusters, with the perimeter of the restaurant’s courtyard lit in sunset hues. But outside of the establishment, the street was dark. It seemed to Grace as though someone had drawn a shroud around it, as though she were confined to a stage, and she was being called for her final act. The script flowed from her like it had been rehearsed. ‘I’m just so happy for you.’
Lailah dropped her hand to pull on her red coat and attempted to shout over the cacophony of drunks and merrymakers. ‘You said that already.’
‘Well, I am,’ came the reply. ‘I am.’
Lailah threw her arms around her, holding her as tight as possible. ‘Goodbye, Grace,’ she’d said into her hair.
‘Goodbye, Lailah.’
Lailah pulled away and attempted a laugh. She held a hand to Grace’s face. ‘I’m gonna see you so soon, you won’t even know I’m gone.’ She pulled away. ‘You gonna be okay getting home?’
Not quite managing a smile, Grace nodded. ‘I’ll find my way.’
*****
The train doors shut behind Grace with a mechanical elegance. There was only a quiet click, a whirring, and it was off on its way. She stood on the platform and watched it go—watched it meander through the city on its rails and away from the silent vigil of the streetlamps until it was entirely out of sight.
She walked over to the shelter, on the walls of which bus routes and train lines sprawled out across the city like the roots of a tree underground.
Thank you for tonight. Let me know you got home safe.
Grace sighed and clicked the message. I just got in. Thank you too, I had such a fun time. Immediately after typing, she shut off her phone, wiped her eyes, and trudged on home.
