The Ticket Collector

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The train rumbled through the Czech countryside. The view was not the inspiring mountains of the south but the monotonous low flatlands of the north-east corner of Moravia. Spring had sprung but no one had told the trees which were still as naked as a Conservative Member of Parliament in a brothel. I sat back and caught my breath, not just because I’d run like hell to catch this train, but because I’d just spent two magical days in the company of Petra and she always took my breath away. But despite how magical and breath-taking she was, I was no nearer to knowing if I could call her my Petra.

We had all the ingredients to make us the perfect couple but her heart was like an old padlock, stiff and defensive, holding back something from the world. I’d tried a bunch of keys but none of them worked and the only one I hadn’t tried had walk away written on it. I wasn’t about to try that one.

I sat back and looked at the photos I’d taken on the phone. She was beautifully unphotogenic. Stunning in the flesh but the camera could never capture the charm that stole the pot of gold from the end of my rainbow. Instead in photos she always looked like a 70’s porn star, all pouts and preens. Yet somehow her face came to life in the selfie I’d taken of me and her. Was that love in her eyes? It was in mine.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried it on with her, I had, but every time I’d told her I wanted her to be my girlfriend, she’d laughed and called me sweet and brushed it off like I was joking. How could I make her see I was serious?

I looked out of the window for a bit and soon my eyes were heavy, I let myself drop off in to a light snooze, knowing the conductor would soon wake me up demanding my ticket. But it wasn’t the ticket collector who woke me, up it was the beep-beep of my phone.

I looked at the message, Petra. I smiled.

‘Forgot to tell you, I’m getting married next week.’

My smile vanished faster than the road runner. I looked again.

‘Forgot to tell you, I’m getting married next week.’

Getting married? Petra was getting married? The woman I had spent the last 5 months flirting outrageously with, was getting married. The woman who had spent the last five months flirting outrageously with me, was getting married! I was having trouble processing this information.

I hadn’t even known that she was courting, let alone that there was a significant other, and now she was telling me not just that she was getting married but that it was next week. I stared at the message willing it to change, or disappear, praying that I was still dreaming. I felt numb, my head throbbed and my stomach span, or did my head spin and my stomach throb?

‘Tickets please.’ I looked up to see the conductor patiently looking at me.

‘She hasn’t even invited me to the wedding,’ I said to a bemused looking ticket collector as I handed over my ticket.