A Suite for the Worthy

The silk sheets were cool and smooth underneath Asgeir’s fingertips. He sat stiffly in a plush double-bed. Wide eyed and confused as he took in the luxurious room he’d woken up in.

No, not a room. A suite.

Polished mahogany-wood walls stretched from the bedroom space into a lounge. The lounge was a room of deep red furniture with golden accents, and a glass table with a velvet-textured chair for dining. The care put into the interior was so extravagant that Asgeir didn’t notice the high pitched ringing lingering in his ears—a remnant from a dream he couldn’t remember. The noise grew quieter with each passing second until he could only hear the gentle hum coming from deep within the floor.

It took Asgeir a moment to recognize the sound.

“A train?”

His voice, still thick with sleep, cut through the noise of the humming. Which he now knew was the muffled sound of wheels grating against steel. He was on a train? How was that possible? Asgeir tried to recall the day before, only for his memory to come up blurry and distorted. Rubbing his hands roughly against his eyes, he squeezed them shut in attempt to focus, until a burst of images flashed through mind.

He’d been walking somewhere…that was the last thing he remembered. He didn’t know where, but he remembered the air being crisp and cold, the noise of the city looming around him, and dead leaves crunching beneath his feet. He was walking, and then…

Nothing.

Asgeir opened his eyes once again, only half surprised to see himself in the exact same room. He looked down at himself, taking in the soft robe he wore, the subtle scent of fresh linen and vanilla permeating the room. Every sensation was vivid and real.

Still, it didn’t make sense. Was he dreaming? Had he somehow ended up in another dimension? Either way, he had no idea how he’d gotten here on this train. Especially a train that looked like this. The longer he thought about it, the more uncertain and skittish he grew. Warning bells went off in his head, and a small voice inside him told him that something about this wasn’t right.

Immediately after he thought it, a knock on the door startled him. Asgeir calmed his racing heart, and cleared his throat after a moment.

“Who’s—who’s there?”

The door opened, and a man poked his head in the suite, his eyes crinkling in a smile when they met Asgeir’s across the room. The man’s greying hair was slicked back and he wore a black suit as uniform with gold lining the seams.

“Good morning, sir,” The man chirped with a smile that was kind and professional. He stepped into the room, wheeling a tray of food. “It’s good to see you finally awake.”

Asgeir only gaped at him in confusion, a bit unsettled from being called ‘sir' by someone old enough to be his father. “I—who are you?”

“I’m your assigned butler, sir.”

The notion was so ridiculous that Asgeir couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Would you prefer your breakfast in bed? Or shall I set it on the table.”

“I—what?”

The butler hummed and nodded once. “The table it is.”

Asgeir watched in disbelief as the butler began setting the table with practice and ease. His casual mannerism was disarming.

“Wait,” he held a hand out, a new worry taking hold of him. “Just…wait. I’m sorry. But I can’t afford all this.”

The butler stopped his movement, his brows pulling together in confusion. “Pardon?”

Asgeir’s face heated in embarrassment. “I can’t afford to pay for this.”

“Pay,” the butler repeated as if the word was foreign. “You’re a guest here, sir. Are you not?”

“I…” Asgeir paused, unsure of how to answer. He shook his head swiftly. “No, that’s impossible. I could never have all this.”

“Why not?”

There was a genuine curiosity in the butler’s voice and Asgeir looked at him incredulously, as if the man was mad. Still, he couldn’t come up with an answer. What would he say in a situation like this?

“I don’t have a ticket,” was his lame response after an awkward silence, staring down at his hands. He didn’t know how else to explain himself.

“You don’t need a ticket here on the Exodus Express.”

The Exodus Express.

Asgeir looked up to find the butler watching him. His eyes were sure and knowing.

“You’re a guest here,” he repeated with a tone that left no room for argument. “It’s my job to serve you and ensure that you have the best possible experience with us.”

The butler continued his work then, setting up breakfast. Asgeir watched silently. Still wrapping his head around the absurdity of it all. A mixture of awe, gratitude, and lingering shock swelled in his chest.

“Am I dead?”

The question lingered heavily in the air between the two men.

“No, sir. You are not.”

The butler’s response was firm but gentle. He hadn’t even blinked, as if he’d heard the same question a hundred times before.

“Then why…? How am I here?”

The butler only smiled at him and clasped his hands together in waiting. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave you to your meal?”

Asgeir swallowed thickly and felt tears prickling in his eyes at the reality in front of him. Or maybe not reality. There was still a part of him that thought this was a dream. A very vivid dream that now had food that smelled so delicious his mouth was watering from where he sat across the room. A dream where a butler was looking at him as if he was worthy of being served. As if he mattered.

No. There was no dream his mind could conjure up that could be as real as this. Nonetheless, if it was a dream, then he was going to make the most of it.

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Asgeir got up quickly and walked to the table to take a bite of his food. The flavor that hit his tongue was sensational.

“This is really good,” he complimented the butler, looking him in the eyes to show his appreciation.

The butler bowed slightly in thanks before shooting Asgeir a playful grin.

“Sir, that’s not even the best part.”

Before Asgeir could ask him to elaborate, the butler walked over to his windows where the shades were drawn. As he lifted them, streams of warm rich golden sunlight lit up the entire suite. Asgeir’s eyes grew wide in childlike awe at his first glimpse of the view just outside his window. Alpine meadows passed by, and miles behind those meadows were stunning, snow-topped mountains. Asgeir had never seen such a view before, nor had he felt such freedom as he did in that moment despite watching it all through a window.

“What’s your name?” He asked the butler after a moment, his eyes still locked on the world outside.

“You can call me Jenkins, sir.”

“Thank you so much, Jenkins. I’ve got everything I need.”

***

Asgeir wasn’t sure how long he had sat in his room taking in everything, but some time later Jenkins knocked on his door and let him know that lunch would be served soon in the main dining car. Figuring he couldn’t stay in bed all day, Asgeir got up and made his way to the bathroom to make himself more presentable.

The bathroom was just as spectacular as the suite. It was humble in space, but the milky white marble walls and golden interior made up for it.

When Asgeir looked in the mirror, he nearly jumped back in surprise at the sight of himself. For a minute, he could only stare at his reflection. His mind moved sluggishly to process the fact that the insanely attractive man staring back at him was him. He ran a hand over the soft, neatly trimmed facial hair covering his jawline. His olive skin was perfectly clear without a blemish or pore in sight. His dark hair, which he recalled being shaggy and in need of a cut before he got here, was now shaped just long enough for his bangs to fall over his forehead.

Running his hand through his hair, Asgeir moved his bangs until he could see a distinct scar above his right eyebrow. The scar he’d gotten from climbing trees as a child. He took comfort in the small imperfection that was still there.

Besides those few things, Asgeir didn’t look that much different. He looked well rested. More polished and taken care of. He looked handsome.

A giddy sort of happiness swelled within him, and he found himself laughing softly. Feeling more confident than he ever had in his life, Asgeir couldn’t help the large grin that covered his face the entire time he showered.

***

The dining car for lunch was vibrant with sunlight and mellow colors. There were a few other passengers sitting throughout the various tables, speaking quietly amongst each other. Asgeir didn’t have a moment to feel alone before a gentle hand touched the sleeve of his suit.

“There you are, darling,” came a deep and pleasant voice behind him. Asgeir turned to see a beautiful elderly woman sitting at the table. She wore a formal black dress with pearl earrings and necklace. Her makeup was smooth on her mature skin and her white hair was pinned in a loose updo with a gentle curl at the ends. Her appearance was the embodiment of old Hollywood glamour.

“Hello,” he greeted, moving toward her when she beckoned him with a glove-covered hand.

“I heard there was a new passenger on board.” A beaming smile spread across her face. “And my how handsome you are.”

“Oh.”

His cheeks flushed at the compliment. He’d never been good at taking them. His modesty only made the woman smile even wider and she gestured towards the seat across from her in invitation. Without hesitation, he sat down.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, please,” she waved him off. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “You can call me Evangeline.”

He nodded and smiled. “Asgeir.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The servers brought out a bottle of cool champagne to start the meal. It was after they poured both Evangeline and Asgeir a glass that she spoke again.

“How are you liking your suite?” She asked before taking a sip.

“It’s nice,” Asgeir said after a moment of thought. He didn’t think telling a stranger he had no memory of coming here would be a great start to the conversation.

“Too nice?” Her eyebrows rose. “It can be quite jarring to wake up in a place so luxurious if you’re not used to it.”

Asgeir smiled. “Am I that obvious?”

“Very, darling. But that’s of no consequence.”

“How about you?” He asked, curious. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, I’ve been here for a some time. I just can’t find it in me to leave. It’s my home away from home. Except this home has bottomless champagne.” She winked slyly and Asgeir laughed. Utterly charmed and already comfortable with her warm presence, he sensed a budding friendship between them.

***

It had become abundantly clear, that time worked differently on the train. While it seemed to pass by normally with the sky going from day to night, some days felt shorter than others. Asgeir found that not long after the first week since he’d woken up on the train, he had begun to lose count of how many days had actually passed.

During that time, he had developed a routine. He liked having his breakfast delivered to his room at 7:30AM. Jenkins was always punctual and brought his favorite: A three-egg chicken omelette, fresh fruit and bread, and freshly squeezed orange juice. After Asgeir would enjoy that, he would take his coffee—a breve latte with light foam that was always steamed just right—and sit comfortably on the couch to spend time enjoying the view outside.

He would then get dressed and ready for the day. The closet, he discovered, had been full of various extravagant clothing that somehow fit him perfectly. He’d venture out to the lounge where he would enjoy tea and conversation with Evangeline before lunch. Asgeir knew that, initially, he wasn’t a man of very many words. It took time for him to be comfortable enough to talk freely with others. But not with Evangeline. Being the social butterfly she was, she could pull conversation out of thin air with anyone. He enjoyed her company and she had made it her responsibility to introduce him to the other passengers.

Dinner, he quickly learned, was a community event where all the passengers gathered together. Even though there were plenty of seating available, Asgeir would see people choosing to sit with others they didn’t know, including him.

Good food and the open bar made the evening full of entertainment. Evangeline always eagerly volunteered to sing show tunes while one of the servers played the baby grand piano next to the bar. After a few glasses of wine, Asgeir would loosen up enough to mingle with others. They would sing along to the songs they knew, clasping each other’s backs and laughing loudly.

He didn’t know any of these people, but he didn’t need to. Dinner always left him feeling fulfilled and high off excitement when he’d make his way back to his suite at the end of the night.

Before the Exodus Express, Asgeir hadn’t known anything about living such a fine life, or having the luxury of time. All the little details of everything the train had to offer that he had no prior knowledge of was all he knew now. He knew the milky white marble walls of the bathroom in his suite was made of Italian marble. How it was Parisian bread he enjoyed the most for his lunch appetizer paired with saffron-infused cheese. Or how the old-money wines he’d tried since arriving had quickly become his favorite.

It was these details that took the most space in the forefront of his mind. Questions he might’ve had on the first day he woke up on the train were no longer a concern of his. He found himself not asking the things he would’ve worried and wondered about. Like how they never seemed to pass by towns. Or how the number of staff far outweighed the number of passengers at times. Or how the train never stopped moving, yet, there was no clear idea or destination to where it was headed.

***

He started slicking his hair back when Evangeline formally introduced him to the young woman who had been sitting with them at dinner the last few nights. Evangeline had caught him staring at her a few times, and hadn’t been subtle at all in pushing him toward her. When Evangeline realized that he was still too shy to talk to the woman, no matter how much wine he drank, she took matters in her own hands.

“Honestly,” she had said to him while rolling her eyes. “As handsome and endearing as you are, you have no idea how to approach a woman.”

The moment Evangeline brought him over to the woman, she had smiled so beautifully at him. The kind of smile that took Asgeir’s breath away immediately and sent his heart racing. Her eyes were gentle and patient on him while he stumbled over his words asking her to dance. She didn’t look surprised by the invitation at all, in fact. It was as if she had been waiting for him.

“Winona,” the woman had introduced herself to him once she took his hand. “Call me Winona.”

***

Those days after passed in a blur of pleasure.

He and Winona spent their nights together in a warm blanket of bliss and intimacy. She had been on the train longer than he had, and she used her knowledge to show him places on the train he'd never thought to discover before. Dinners were even more spectacular, if that was even possible. He’d become more outgoing and sure of himself. Evangeline had even convinced him to sing a duet with her—a comical tune that had both the passengers and servers cheering and thoroughly entertained.

Despite being limited to staying on the train, his life was full of color and joy. Surrounded by friends and good people, beauty and comfort, he couldn’t remember what it was like to not feel this way. And why would he want to?

Yes. Everything was perfect.

***

Until he looked in the mirror one morning and saw that his face had began to change.

***

What he once chalked up to getting rest and relaxation, turned into little human imperfections perfecting themselves. His jawline had become a lot sharper. Too sharp. His nose, which naturally had a slight ethereal hook to it, had straightened. His eyelashes had grown thicker and his lips fuller.

“What?” He whispered to himself in disbelief, before freezing in shock. His teeth—which he thought were perfectly fine before—were completely straight and blindingly white. The longer he stared, the more unsettled he became. The questions he’d pushed away from the first day were coming back, until a dawning realization hit him.

It was the train. The train was changing him. It had been since the beginning.

***

“Excuse me?” He waved down the bartender later that evening before dinner. The bartender called Svek.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“Are you Svek?”

The bartender stopped what he was doing and looked at him. “Yes, sir. I am.”

“I need to speak with you.”

Svek tilted his head curiously, before motioning for him to sit at one of the stools.

“Jenkins sent me,” he explained to the bartender in a quiet voice. He didn’t know why, but he felt he was broaching a topic he shouldn’t. “He said you’re the one to go to for any questions.”

“That’s correct. What questions do you have, sir?”

“I’d like to know where the train is going.”

Surprise colored Svek’s eyes, before his expression cleared. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned close.

“Why would you want to know that?”

He gawked at the bartender. “Be-because…well, surely we have to get off some time?”

He didn’t know when his voice changed. When he started speaking so properly.

Svek’s silence sent unease through him.

“The Exodus Express has no destination,” Svek finally said. “It simply moves and provides for those onboard.”

He blinked, the bartender’s words not registering. “I’m sorry?”

Svek didn’t answer. He simply picked up a glass and took the cloth from his pocket to begin polishing it.

“Excuse me,” He demanded in a hiss. “Tell me what you mean by that!”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now this train is unlike any other,” Svek leveled him with a stare. “I assume you don’t remember how you got here?”

Quiet now, he shook his head.

The bartender’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “To put it simply, this train is an escape. You’re here for a reason. It must be a good one.”

He could feel his heart beginning to pound. The suspicions he’d had since the beginning were now being confirmed.

“This place isn’t real?” He stated, rather than asked.

“I didn’t say that. I said it’s unlike any other.”

“But why am I here?” He asked helplessly, his frustration growing. He’d asked the same thing the first day he woke up here, and he berated himself for not asking more questions before.

“Only you know the answer to that.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Then let me help you make sense of it,” Svek cut in sharply, all traces of professional decorum leaving. “To be here, the problems you face in your reality have to be great. You either deal with them, push them back, or shut them out all together. But in the end, your reality will chase you no matter how far you run.”

The bartender gestured at their surroundings. “This place? It’s for those who don’t want to stop running.”

“But you can’t…” he paused, his mind racing trying to make sense of it.

The Exodus Express was an escape. Okay. But surely it couldn’t last forever? He didn’t want it to last forever.

“You can’t just run away when things get hard. You have to keep going.”

“Why not?” Svek asked, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t that what you’re doing, being here? Running?”

“No!” He retorted loudly. “No, I’m not. I didn’t ask to be here! I don’t even know how I got here!”

“And yet, you’ve stayed.”

Indignation flushed hotly through him, even though the bartender spoke the truth. “I’ve enjoyed my time, yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m running.”

The bartender hummed thoughtfully, picking up another spotless cup to shine. “What was your name again?”

He opened his mouth to answer, relying on what should’ve been instinctual.

Only...his mind had gone completely blank.

After a moment, he closed his mouth and blinked rapidly while staring down at the table. Trying to conjure up a name—his name. But the seconds passed by, and he still had nothing. Dread filled his stomach at the terrifying realization.

What was his name? He couldn’t remember his own name.

He looked up. His horrified eyes meeting Svek’s knowing gaze. The bartender didn’t offer him any comfort. He only picked up another cup to shine.

“You don’t know, do you?”

***

He spent the next morning going through the motions. Accepting his breakfast and coffee, robotically parroting his thanks to Jenkins. The views outside his window did nothing to ease his mind. He was troubled from the night before where he’d stayed up for hours trying to remember what he was called. By the time the train had grown quiet from other passengers retiring for the night, he was fighting back tears of frustration.

It was later that day when he was having tea with Evangeline, he’d asked her the same question the bartender had asked him.

“Evangeline?”

“Yes, darling?”

He had to quell the sudden annoyance that spiked in him. He was quickly growing tired of pet names.

“What’s your name?” He asked her.

She took a sip of her tea with furrowed brows.

“I told you. You can call me Evangeline.”

The repetitive words triggered the memory of his first interaction. And suddenly, he knew.

You can call me Jenkins, sir.

Winona. Call me Winona.

The bartender called Svek.

How did he not see it sooner? Nobody on the train knew their real name. Not even the servers! He briefly wondered how long they had been here to completely forget. Then he wondered how they could be okay with being servers for so long, with no clear end in sight. It was as if they—

He shook his head furiously, refusing to process the number of possibilities.

“No.”

The sharpness in his voice took them both by surprise and guilt washed over him at the small ounce of hurt on Evangeline’s face. With a much kinder tone and a desperation in his eyes, he asked her again.

“No. What’s your name? Your real name.”

“I…”

She trailed off, and he watched her eyes go blank. She seemed to stare right through him into a distance he couldn’t see. All at once, he saw a number of emotions cross her face. Conflict. Then awareness. Then horror. She squeezed her eyes shut, and then it was her shaking her head as if to repress something. When she opened her eyes again, he saw the extravagant, extroverted woman he knew. Only this time, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

She looked back at him, a forced smile spreading across her face. “Again. You can call me Evangeline.”

***

There was a small part of him that wanted to give in.

He rarely left his suite. Taking all his meals in bed. Winona had stopped seeking him out, as did Evangeline. They stayed away like they knew what he was going through. He felt isolated from the vibrant life that was the train, but mostly he just saw it for what it was. A distraction. Every day he still couldn’t remember who he was. Every day his memories grew fainter. Fear and uncertainty brewed within him of what he would become, and he wanted so badly for it to be over.

He wanted to give in, like the rest of them.

***

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he noticed that his scar above his eyebrow was gone. The scar he’d gotten from falling off his bike as a child.

Or was it climbing trees?

There was no one there to hear him cry out helplessly or witness his panic as he rubbed and scratched roughly at the skin on his forehead that was now smooth and brand new. Leaving behind a perfect, handsome face he didn’t recognize.

His cries turned into sobs when the skin wouldn’t give under his fingernails. His sobs turned into screams.

“I want to leave!” He shouted hoarsely while tears ran down his face. His voice bounced off the marble walls and he crumpled to the floor. “I want to leave! I want to leave! I want to leave!”

***

Something shifted in him that night after he'd cried himself to sleep, pleading quietly to whatever was holding him hostage in the train to let him go.

The next morning when he woke up, it was to the sound of ringing in his ears. The same ringing from the very first dream he had on the Exodus Express.

Only it wasn’t a dream, but a memory that was fresh and clear as day.

***

“I was hit by a car.”

Svek observed the man sitting at the stool across from him. The man hadn’t bothered to change out of his robe, or put shoes on. Still, he was flawless in every other way. The other passengers hadn’t given him a second glance when he first entered the bar area.

“You were hit by a car,” Svek encouraged after a moment.

The man swallowed thickly. “I was walking…”

“Yes?”

The man stared down at the counter. His eyes narrowed angrily. “I was walking to a job that I hated. I lived paycheck to paycheck working myself to the bone. I didn’t have time for friends, I didn’t have time to…to meet anyone. I didn’t have time for my own life.”

His throat tightened when the first feelings of despair sliced through him. “I felt lonely. I was so deeply unhappy with myself. And it seemed like no matter what I did to make it better, I still—I still couldn't seem to keep my head above water.”

Svek listened quietly. Patient and receptive. When the man looked up, his dark, tearful eyes held a plethora of emotions. They told Svek everything.

“I didn’t see the car coming. But I do remember feeling unafraid when it happened.”

“You were hoping to die?”


“No,” the man clarified quickly. “No. I just…needed everything to stop. Just for a moment.”

“I understand.”

The man took a deep breath and looked around at the train he had called home all this time. The train that had taken care of him, gave him the best memories with good people and wonderful experiences he’d never thought he could have. It had been his safe haven from reality. A pause.

He took it all in one last time, and said goodbye to it. To Evangeline. Winona. Jenkins.

“I’m ready to go back now,” the man told Svek.

For the first time, a genuine smile crossed the bartender’s face.

“What’s your name?”

“Asgeir.”

“And who are you, Asgeir?”

Asgeir smiled wryly. “A nobody. But that doesn’t make me any less worthy.”

***

The operator’s room was empty. It only had a single door at the end where the outside world lay. Asgeir opened the door and was met with the wind blowing against his skin and the smell of fresh air beckoning him to come out. He looked down to see there were no railroad tracks. Only an endless fall into the sky.

He thought of his last interaction with Svek.

“You want to leave? It’s very simple,” Svek had told him. “This door behind me leads to the operator’s car. All you have to do is go in, open the door and jump.”

Asgeir gripped the sides of the door and stepped forward. His feet teetered on the edge.

“When you land back in the real world, it’s not going to be a soft or gentle landing. The world is not any kinder than it was when you left it. What happens after that is up to you.”

Svek then asked him if he was absolutely sure this was what he wanted.

“I’m sure.” Asgeir had said without a hint of doubt. Then a thought occurred to him. “Why are you helping me?”

Svek smiled sadly at Asgeir. “The train isn’t a prison. The passengers always have a choice to leave when it’s not their time. Someone has to be here to give it to them.”

His reflection in the door window caught his eye, and Asgeir took a moment to look at himself. He was still beautiful, that hadn’t changed. But along with the handsome man he was so used to seeing—the one with slicked back hair, perfect skin and teeth—he also saw the real him. His nose with a slight hook. His untamed beard. His shaggy hair in desperate need of a cut. And a stubborn scar above his right brow from a tree-climbing childhood. He knew that when he went back to the real world, there would be more scars to heal.

Still, content and accepting of who he is, and finally aware of the vast potential that lie underneath the haggard edges of him—Asgeir smiled.

And jumped.