The Letter

Laurence Borgmann

Ooops! That was a very clear "No" and Laurence looked around to see whether anybody had been watching them. Even the woman's smile was now frozen. She did not take her eyes off him, obviously constructing in her mind her own version of the story. With her long blonde curly hair she now looked like those professional smilers he hated on television.

Within the last hour he had tried this three times. The other women had at least shown some understanding, they had suggested alternatives, had understood his situation. One of them had actually said "Why not - let us give it a try!". They had quickly moved to a nearby table together. However, when Laurence had suggested the opening lines of the letter it had turned out that by coincidence she was also called Sheila. She had thought that it was all a trick and had checked whether he might have been able to read her name tag on the suitcase beside her.

The "professional smile" was now determined to make a scene and show Laurence what she thought about his approach. The smile turned from "professional" to "superior" as she violently grabbed her plastig bags. He knew there was no station for at least another half hour so this was likely to be the preparation for a dramatic scene. Her departure surely meant trouble.

Klick to read her words
Klick to read the words

This seemed really out of proportion but Laurence noticed that somehow she had not even addressed him directly. Like an experienced actress in a theatre this stranger had got up, had paused and had with a big sweeping glance taken in her whole audience. To the dozen or so real passengers she had added another dozen virtual ones sitting below the benches, on the other side of the windows and in the luggage racks near the ceiling. By leaving this dramatic pause after her first exclamation she even captured the attention of the elderly couple who were travelling with their grandson and that of the three waiters and the chef of the dining car. In no time at all they were lined up near the kitchen entrance as if waiting for an inspection. Later, when the blonde superior smile lady had run out and brushed past them with her plastic bags they suddenly looked more like a firing squad about to execute Laurence with their kitchen utensils and afterwards wipe the blood off the furniture with their white kitchen towels. Silence. There was no quick way out of it for him now - if he left, he would have to come back to pay for his expensive but rather small meal and get his suitcase from under the bench - he would have to bear those stares again! That would only make it worse. He felt that because the dramatic performance successfully reached all the passengers present and even some imaginary ones he would somehow have to make a similarly theatrical performance to put things right again. They had only followed her side of the story. And only because it looked so plausible to them! It was just too unfair! Well, at least a few of the passengers were on his side and had felt sorry for him he thought. He had seen a pale young man with very dark hair sneak out during the performance. Maybe this was just Laurence's interpretation but this young man seemed to have left out of sheer embarrassment. Unfortunately, though, the sympathisers were clearly a minority. He felt he even had to explain the situation to the newcomers, such as the dark haired woman with the interesting face who had only just walked into the dining car and had been staring at him since then. She seemed confused because nobody was saying a word and everybody was staring at him. He cursed himself for having tried the blonde smiler. He knew that this dark haired lady would have been much more open and understanding. Now - with everybody's attention focused on him - it was out of the question to offer her the free seat opposite him. Of course, that was exactly where she sat down. With a grin on her face she moved her legs in the small space between the bench and the table and said:

"I heard that this seat is free? You must be the young man who has such trouble writing a love letter to your ex-girlfriend?"
"I don't think this is actually any ..." Laurence started his feeble protest. "Oh shut up, will you? I know you are! I had the doubtful pleasure of consoling two of your victims on this train and have just seen another one storm out of here. Let's not waste any time. You don't have much to lose, do you?"

This time it was Laurence who thought that it might be a trick. Was she a kind of security person in plain clothes? A friend of one of his "victims" who was taking revenge? Her tone was so direct that he did not even consider opposition and got out the half-finished love letter that had given him so much trouble.

"So you need to tell her that you made a big mistake and should never have left her?..."

It was completely unclear to Laurence why this woman could possibly take any interest in his troubled love life. She must be interested in him! She had heard about him and now she was trying to get to know him? How could she? She was so good-looking - much more mature than him, she had much more to offer, had surely seen the world. Yet, from the sparkle in her eyes there was no doubt - she was ready for love!



Start | Net.Train-Map | Stories overview | First sentence | Participate! | Project Information | Contact the team! | Meet us @ events! | Achill finale