Brief Encounter
by N Fourbois
I cannot deny the influence of the Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson film of the same name in writing this. Please, readers, do get in touch with me and all the writers on this site. We love feedback.
Even in the twenty-first century there remain great and romantic train journeys. On the 2 February 2004, the inaugural rail journey was made from Alice Springs to Darwin in Australia when the Ghan took its historic trip from Adelaide to Darwin connecting the north with the south of the continent by rail for the first time. Other journeys come to mind: the Trans-Siberian Express, the Orient Express, the journey through South Africa to Rhodesia and another from Peking to Hong Kong. Last summer I was lucky enough to make a journey on the 'Canadian', not the full length unfortunately from Vancouver, British Columbia, but joining the train at Edmonton, Alberta, and travelling the 2013 miles to Toronto, Ontario, with a break in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
Friends asked why I wanted to go to Winnipeg. 'The arsehole of Canada' more than one person described it to me and I wondered what the people who lived and worked there thought. To me Winnipeg was the only place to make a break on the 2000 mile journey to Toronto, nothing more, nothing less. It was simply a question of jumping off one train and catching the next, except the next train was three days later. Admittedly after three days there I was beginning to see the point. Round the Forks it was entertaining and there was a great atmosphere, but Canada was difficult without a car and as I was only sixteen I was not old enough for a driving licence, or for a driver's license.
The journey to Winnipeg could not be described as uneventful after a grain truck raced the train to a level crossing and lost. How the driver and his son escaped with their lives and no injuries, I'll never understand. For me the shock was not the accident, but seeing it about to happen. We arrived in Winnipeg some five hours late.
Sunday morning I arrived at the station in good time for the eastbound 'Canadian'. Via Rail have a system whereby you wait inside the station until the train is cleared for boarding. I was the first there and after handing in my luggage I sat waiting as I watched my fellow passengers arrive in dribs and drabs. And then it happened. There must have been a 'clunk' as my jaw hit the ground. Joining the queue was this youthful god dressed in blue among a sea of yellow and browns. I could not even bring myself to avert my eyes. How old was he? Fourteen probably, a young sixteen possibly. He certainly had the confidence and the detachment of a man much older, alone as he was and about to board a long distance train.
I was torn from my reverie by the boarding announcement. Building on previous experience I knew it was wise to get onboard as quickly as possible to secure a convenient seat for the scheduled thirty-two hours of rail travel. Amidst the scramble I completely forgot the Blue God of Youth.
The train was not as full as I expected. I claimed my seat and settled in, appreciating the air conditioning as the temperature outside soared to its August eighties. Having stowed in the overhead locker my rucksack with overnight essentials and a nosebag to tide me over until dinner that evening, I relaxed until that too familiar clunk sound of my jaw dropping again brought my heart to a race. The Blue God of Youth was sitting on my right across the aisle. He must have known I was staring. I could not stop myself experiencing as I was such turbulence in my chest and stomach. Fortunately the excitement had not yet reached my loins, although I suspected that was not far away. Out of the corner of my eye I could... I could nothing...! From staring full face I could take in every detail. He had black hair, straight, but neither long nor short, matched by black button-like eyes, set in a complexion of monumental alabaster which the summer sun had failed to darken. His slight body was clothed in a light blue polo shirt with which he wore dark blue shorts. Their material puzzled me. It might well have been nylon, but who wears nylon shorts these days, especially in this heat? And although designed on the basis of cargo shorts the cut and the close, but not tight fit was far superior to anything I had seen in England. My only disappointment was that his svelte body displayed no packet, but that would simply have taken me over the top. You always need something left to discover. From the short shorts extended two long and hairless legs which had begun to catch the sun, and his sandalled feet were remarkable not for their size, but for the length of the toes which matched the extraordinary length of his fingers. As the journey progressed I was to grow more and more fascinated by those almost double-jointed fingers. I was jogged back to reality by the conductor who was checking tickets.
I was naturally interested in where the Blue God of Youth was travelling to. The system on the 'Canadian' is that a card with your destination written on it is posted above your seat, which reserves it. I looked across the aisle hoping to see Toronto written on his reservation, but instead saw Minaki. I reached for my timetable booklet and there in small print spotted Minaki, Ontario, one hundred and fifteen miles and two and a half hours away. A hundred and fifty minutes to drink in this epitome of youthful masculine beauty which I dared not even speak to.
The journey continued for about an hour with occasional halts on loops to allow freight trains to pass onto otherwise single track. Thirty percent of Canada's freight is carried by rail, I learnt, and I had also heard the myth that the few passenger trains always had to give way to freight. However, a little observation proved that this defied logic for it was obvious with the large stretches of single track the first train to reach the passing loop was going to stop, whether passenger or freight.
An hour out of Winnipeg it became clear not only that the stop was longer than usual, but when the carriage lighting and air conditioning went off something more serious was wrong. Eventually the train staff told us that one of the locomotives had failed and by happy coincidence the west bound 'Canadian' which had halted on the passing loop would give us a loco while it managed with one to reach Winnipeg. During this time I had taken every not so surreptitious opportunity to study the visible parts of the Blue God of Youth's slender and fascinating body. He either didn't or pretended not to notice. Meanwhile he took his mobile phone out of his backpack and warned his mother of his late arrival and it was at this stage that I plucked up courage to speak to him. When he clicked off, I said
"Hi! Have you got far to go?"
"About another hour and a half once we get going again. I get out at Minaki." At that the power started up again, just as the temperature inside the carriage was becoming oppressive. "I'm Cody by the way." I introduced myself and we shook hands. 'Why are the English still so reticent, even in these days?' I asked myself. On this my first visit to Canada I was so impressed with the openness of the Canadians and how easy they were to get along with.
At that moment one of the train crew came through to announce that the shop and bar were open again. Shocked by my own boldness I said
"Hey, Cody! How about going for a Coke?" I could hardly believe I'd said that. Firstly it wasn't the nature of the beast, but secondly, while I knew my desire was easily aroused on seeing a beautiful boy, ever since I recognised I was gay, I had learnt to keep my emotions and actions under control for fear of being beaten up. I have no sense of gaydar, so I don't have that as a warning or encouragement signal. So nervous was I by nature about the subject, I had never even had a boyfriend and now began to wish al that could change.
We moved along the corridor, Cody in front. I just melted at the supple and self-confident way he moved. I admired his butt in those shorts and while we were the same height, why did his arms and legs appear to be so long? To steal a phrase from the Dukes of Hazzard he had legs that went all the way up to his armpits. At one stage the train jolted and I automatically held out my arms to steady him and as my hands caught him round the waist I felt myself harden up. We got our drinks, he a Dr Pepper and I a sparkling mineral water, and took our seats at a table facing one another.
"So what brings you to Canada?" asked Cody.
"Do you want the short or long answer?" I replied.
"I don't think we're be moving for a bit while they're shunting these trains around, so why not both?"
"The short answer's easy. To stay with a school friend in Alberta and my grandmother in Ontario."
"Why didn't you fly between the two?" Oddly this complete stranger I had the hots for was completely putting me at my ease. I suddenly felt as if I were talking to an old friend rather than the Blue God of Youth who was exercising my libido.
"Well, I love trains and I'd seen films about the Trans-Canada express. I can remember my father telling me about making the journey from New York to Vancouver and so it's in the blood."
"You can remember him telling you... That's sounds as if he's no longer alive?"
"That's right. I'm an orphan."
"I said I wanted hear the long answer. It sounds even more interesting now. Let's move on up to the observation car, then tell me all about it."
We walked through to the observation car and up the short flight of stairs. It was empty and the restored air conditioning was doing its work. We sat down side by side. Something about Cody was making me feel so at ease, as if I had known him for years rather than minutes.
"Well, here goes..." I said.
"I suppose the first thing I remember was when I was about four. My mother was rushed to hospital and she died. I was told when I was older that she was having a baby who was to be my brother, but she had to have a caesarian and something went horribly wrong with the anaesthetic. It killed my mother and my brother was delivered dead, though I have never found out whether he died before the operation or because of it. My father brought me up with the help of a maiden aunt. I remember the hospital business went on for a long time. It went to court and my father eventually received a large sum in compensation while the anaesthetist was struck off. My father was not particularly interested in the money, so it was invested in a trust for my education and for me in couple of years' time when I'm eighteen. Life went on as it does. I guess young kids are quite adaptable. Then one day when I was twelve I was called into the Headmaster's study at school. There were a policewoman and my aunt with him. I remember the hair bristled on the back of my neck when I saw them. I knew something was wrong. There had been an accident at my Dad's office. The lift, you call it an elevator, had crashed down and killed him. I still remember the tears as if it were yesterday. Anyway, to cut the story short, I was brought up by my maiden aunt, my mother's sister. More insurance money and more compensation. Lots of money, just no parents or brother, so hardly compensation in its true sense. I was made to undergo counselling. That made things worse. I just wanted to be left alone. Eventually it was suggested I went to boarding school. I thought it was a good idea because I wanted a change. I just asked to be allowed to choose the school. At the time I was just starting adolescence and I knew I was g... different and I wanted to be in a boys only school."
"Were you about to say 'gay' then?" Cody interrupted. I blushed deeply and knew straightaway I could not deny it. I was not really out at home, which meant with my aunt, and at school it didn't matter. I had friends, but no boyfriend. I just liked hanging out with boys, but I knew, and if I didn't know before, everything that was happening today just confirmed it. The other thing I noticed was that Cody didn't react at all; he didn't get up or shift away.
"I picked out half a dozen schools and visited them. They were good schools, all of them, good facilities, comfortable boarding houses, but do you know why I chose the one I'm at?" Cody shook his head. "While I was being shown around by a couple of pupils, we went out onto the playing fields and in the distance I could see a couple of boys with their arms round each other. I didn't say anything or comment, but if they could do that, I knew I would be safe.
"That's the school I went to and it became my family. I found out later who those two boys were and we became friends and they helped me a lot to sort myself out."
"And so you're here."
"Yes. I've just spent two weeks with my schoolfriend. His father got seconded to the University of Alberta in Edmonton for a year, found that he liked it so much that he stayed, but he wanted his son to finish his education in England. Then in Ontario there's my grandmother, Dad's mother. She moved out here years ago, when Dad was still alive, and remarried. I don't really know her that well, but I will over the next couple of weeks.
The train started to move and Cody looked at his watch. Four hours late. For some reason I was fascinated by his watch. It had all sorts of dials on it. I took hold of his hand to get a closer look.
"What are all these for, Cody?" I asked and as he started explaining I realised what I was doing. I was tenderly holding the Blue God of Youth's left hand in mine. I froze until suddenly it occurred to me he's allowing me to do it! And all the time I felt a certain flow of energy from his hands, those hands with the fine, long, double-jointed fingers, I felt the energy flow into mine down through my body and into my loins, and furthermore without any embarrassment whatsoever.
"Do you play the piano?" I asked casually.
"I do, but what makes you ask?"
"It's your fine fingers. I find them fascinating." We just sat there. Time was standing still. I broke the silence. "So why are you going to Minaki?"
"I'm going home. School starts again next week."
"What were you doing in Winnipeg?"
"Would you guess? Staying with my grandmother. I needed some space. Things were a little difficult, but I hope they're going to be okay now." I noticed we were still holding hands and he was making no attempt to take his hand away. "Three weeks ago I came out to my parents. They weren't surprised, but even so my father took it a bit bad. He's all right now. I've spoken to him and he wants to see me. I've got three sisters and he missed having the only other male around in the house. 'He's got no one sensible to talk to,' or so he says. So I've been in Winnipeg - the arsehole of Canada."
"So people keep telling me."
The train had sped up, but we were unlikely to make up four hours. A night on the train. I didn't mind that, but midnight in Toronto. That I didn't fancy, especially if Grandma had to wait all that time on Union Station. We talked about Minaki and Cody's life in a remote farming community. He was looking forward to getting back from the city. Despite the air conditioning it was getting warm in the observation car and I must have fallen asleep. When I woke Cody was beside me with his eyes closed, my right hand in his, his left arm round my shoulder.
"It'll soon be time," he said opening his eyes. We moved back down to our seats. Cody checked with his mum on his cell phone. She and father would be there to meet him. The train slowed, the conductor came along to warn Cody that they would be arriving in five minutes. I had to take a photograph, but my camera was packed away in my main luggage. The train stopped and it was time to say goodbye. We shook hands and then Cody took me into one of Canadian hugs which I was slowly getting used to and we parted. I saw him being greeted by his mother, father and three sisters. Of the four children he was easily the most beautiful. The hug from his father told me he was safe. As the train moved off he turned and waved.
Once Cody was out of sight I slumped down into my seat with a mixture of emotions. I felt an emptiness within, my eyes were moist, my heart ached and I had an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then it came to me all of a sudden. We hadn't thought of exchanging addresses, e-mail addresses or phone numbers. Cody, Minaki, Ontario. Would a letter reach him? He might not even live in Minaki. Silent tears poured down my face. I cried myself to sleep.
I was awoken by the first call for dinner in the dining car. The tears had dried onto my cheeks. I must have looked a sorry sight. Time for a wash and brush up. As I got my toilet bag out of my rucksack I felt a slight irritation on my neck. 'Oh no, not a mosquito bite," I said to myself. I thinking about the threat of West Nile disease which was second to SARS in Canada at the time. I reached the washroom and looked in the mirror. It was not a mosquito bite, but a very large and colourful love bite. With only tee shirts to wear, how was I going to explain that at Toronto? But I had my souvenir. Cody, I love you.
Cody, in the unlikely event that you'll read this, get in touch. Please!
© N Fourbois 2004
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