Coreopsis 6-b

   Orion had long skinny fingers.  Hands that were soft but cold to the touch. She noticed a white ring around his ring finger. “Lose something?”

   He glanced at his finger for a moment. “No,” with a fluid motion, he pulled the ring from under his shirt. He was wearing it around his neck. 

   She cleared her throat. “I am sure you were expecting a man. I get that a lot.”

   “I was.” He admitted, motioning to a porter whom took her bags and followed them onto the train on the opposite side of the station. She clung to her book and a smaller bag. They went up the stairs, through the open car door into a roomy sleeping car. It looked like pictures she had seen of trains; though, bigger than she imagined. As she looked around it dawned on her that they didn’t have a compartment, they had a whole car.

   “You act as though you have never been on a train.” Orion stared at her.

   Everything in this room was beige. She had expected more color. 

     “What?” He asked, noticing her expression. 

   “I was expecting more color.” She wiggled a little. “Color that imitated the thrill of riding a train.”

     The porter put her bags in a closet but concealed a cough as he did. 

   Orion then sat on one side of the room taking his hat off and laying it in the floor beside the seat next to the window. His hair was salt and pepper in color. She thought this was odd. He looked too young to have salt and pepper hair.

   She sat across from him.

   “I have always had a fascination with trains but this is my first train ride.”

   “How can I make this ride more enjoyable for you?” He said through gritted teeth.

   She watched him for a moment. His breathing became rapid as his skin turned an ashen pale and he broke out into a sweat. “Are you hungry?” He hissed.

   “No, not yet. You?”

   He stretched his long thin frame out on the seat and went to sleep. When he woke, it was dark outside. He glanced over to see that she was still reading. She had taken her hat off. He still couldn’t see what color her hair was. “Good book?” He asked.

   “Hard.” She sighed, “Yet interesting.”

   “What is it?”

   “It’s a research journal.”

   “Oh.” He sat up, “about what, if I may ask?” His head started spinning when he rose up. He asked her that question in order to draw her attention away from his discomfort.

   “I have a friend that has a hypothesis, and I’m watering this down, that because the brain is such a powerful tool that it can heal the body when modern medicine can’t; through meditation and hypnotherapy.”

   “What do you think?”

   “The brain is amazing and powerful. I have read stories about parents that can hear their children crying across town and know that something is wrong. I once had a patient that could think about lowering his blood pressure and it would drop. I don’t think he’s too far off the mark. However, his paper is in desperate need of work. Would you like to read it?”

   He flashed a smile. “No, I’m sure it is over my head.”

   “I feel like I should be reading it with an encyclopedia by my side. While the use of some professional jargon is necessary; he has gone overboard, I think, in an effort to sound credible.” Her stomach growled. 

     He stood up, extending his hand to her. “Come.”

   She accepted. He led her through one of two doors that was in the back of the car the door they went through opened into a dining room. A waiter stood beside another door leading out of the dining room on the opposite side. Everything was so formal. The elegance of this little room took her breath away. Orion pulled out her chair guiding her to the table as she sat. He walked around and sat in front of her.

   The waiter walked over to the table. “What can I bring you my lord?”

   He glared at the waiter, “Ladies first.”

   “Sorry my lord,” He turned his attention to her. “What can I get for milady?”

   “What do you have?” She smiled.

   “Anything you want.” The waiter said proudly.

   “You’re kidding?”

   “Never about my job.” 

   She looked at Orion. “What are you eating?”

   While they were talking, the waiter lite a lamp on the table. 

   “I usually eat soup.”

   “Then I will have what you have. I can never make up my mind when I have endless choices.”   

   “Very well,” Orion ordered French Onion soup, with bread on the side, and white wine. The waiter bowed.

    “Could you make mine water?”

    The waiter bowed again before disappearing.

   “Do you ever smile?”

   “When the occasion calls for it,” He answered dryly.

   “Oh.” She flattened out the white linen napkin on her lap.

   The waiter reappeared, pouring wine and water before promptly leaving.