Page 71 of The Circle

“Has anyone reached out yet?” asks Eliza. Which is, in fact, the very question I was about to ask when she knocked.

“Not yet,” Alec tells her. “I assume we’ll get more details when we arrive in Vienna.”

Vienna. A castle. A meeting. A man with a scar.

Fuck you, brain. If you’re not going to give me more workable information, stop showing me the same useless flashes of nothing that only serve to frustrate me.

Eliza turns to look out of the living room window. She raises her chin, doing her utmost to present as someone who is strong in the face of catastrophe. I know that look. I’ve expressed it myself hundreds of times. But I can see the invisible tear tracks on her cheeks. Because they’re not invisible. At least not to me.

I was pregnant. I lost the pregnancy. Now I’m pregnant again. Eliza had a child. She set that child up with a life free from… all this. And now all this is here anyway.

Whatever will be will be, indeed.

I catch Danny staring at me. He points at his nose, indicating something along the lines of, Is your face okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I? You’re all right? I wave at him to let him know I’m fine. I like this deeply-concerned-for-my-well-being Danny, but at the same time I hope that guy knows when it’s time to disappear and let the take-no-prisoners Danny Fortnight have the steering wheel back. The last thing I want is for Danny to become “careful” just because we both know what we know about the current state of my womb. Ironically, it has always seemed to me that being careful is the quickest way to wind up in the very situation your careful approach was intended to avoid. What is it Alec says? Fortune favors the bold? I need Danny to stay bold. I need all of us to.

We continue to ride in silence. What the hell are we supposed to talk about? The weather? The fancy soap in the bathroom? How pretty the Austrian countryside is this time of year? We have no other information. We can’t make a plan. We are completely reactive at this point. Entirely on defense. It’s not a comfortable place to be.

Maybe that’s why whoever is behind all this put us on this train. Maybe their goal was to try to make us comfortable. Soft. Lazy. Get us all gushy and relaxed so we’ll not be ready to strike back. Strike out. Respond.

Or maybe they’re just like Alec and enjoy having really nice shit.

“Excuse me? Sorry to bother.” Nigel has poked his head in the door. I guess I left it open. Which makes me think that perhaps the whole “make us soft and inattentive” thing may be working.

“No bother, man. What is it?” Alec says.

“We will be pulling into Wien Hauptbahnhof, Vienna Central Station, shortly. May we provide you with any other services prior to completing our journey?”

There is a collective sigh in the room. It all feels so confusingly polite.

“No, Nige, I think we’re good,” Danny says. “Unless you feel like telling us exactly what’s waiting for us when we get there,” he adds.

There’s a beat before Nigel smiles and says, “So, nothing else then. Very good, sirs and madams. In that case, we again wish to thank you for joining us on the Venice-Simplon Orient Express and hope that if your needs call for carriage travel in the future, you will consider us once more.”

The deadpan stares he gets back from us might be funny if the whole thing weren’t so tragically fucked up.

“I am sorry,” he is quick to follow up. “Habit.”

He starts to head off when Danny calls after him, “Nigel…”

Nigel returns to the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Fortnight?”

“What’s your name? Your actual name. Your name. What is it?”

Nigel takes a long pause before responding. “Why do you wish to know, sir?”

“Because I’m a curious guy. What’s your name?”

Another long pause. Then, “I don’t wish to be rude, Mr. Fortnight, and so I do hope you will take this in the spirit in which it is intended. Which is to serve as both genuine counsel and an honest reminder…” He lets that hang in the air as if he wants to make sure he has our attention. And then, finally… “It would be to your great benefit not to burden your thoughts with details which do not matter.”

He smiles a genuine smile.

And closes the door.