“You’re welcome,” he said. He stood there, his hands down by his sides. “What’s your name?” he asked.
The question surprised her. She looked up at him, considered his face. She pictured Donna sleeping in the bunk, thought of the things she’d said about Paul’s family, about her own family. What would she think to see Claire sitting here in the middle of the night talking to a Negro as if it were the most natural thing in the world?
“Donna,” she said. “My name’s Donna.”
“Donna,” he said. “My name’s Hampton.”
“Hello, Hampton,” she said.
“Hello, Donna,” he said. “Please, let me know if you need anything else.” He turned and walked back to the tray stand.
Claire took a sip of the milk, tried to keep her hand from shaking. Her heart pounded in her ears. The milk calmed her. She set it on the table, spent a moment catching her breath. She picked up the cookie, bit into it. She couldn’t tell what kind it was. A sugar cookie perhaps. She brushed the crumbs from the tablecloth and dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. She could feel Hampton’s eyes on her. She looked up at him, and he dropped his gaze to the silverware he’d been polishing.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Is your room comfortable?”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s quite nice. I just have a lot on my mind tonight.”
He smiled, set the piece of silverware on the tray, and picked up another. He was tall with soft brown eyes and dark skin. She watched him work, and she felt her eyes grow heavy. She felt warm, relaxed. She picked up the cookie and took another bite. She drank more of the milk.
She ran her hand along the windowsill and watched the reflection of it moving in the dark glass. She felt something catch her fingertips. When she looked closer she saw that a hair had been painted onto the metal. She wondered where it had come from. Had the painter dropped it and then covered it over? Had he known he’d left part of himself behind? She used her fingernail and scratched at the hair until it came free and disappeared into the shadows beneath the window. The place where the hair had been was shiny, the metal left exposed.
She looked up at the porter. He’d been watching her, but for how long she didn’t know.
“Do you have to stay awake all night?” she asked.
He smiled and looked down. He placed a fork on the tray and picked up another.
“Yes,” he said. “I come on in New York and work through until the breakfast service begins.”
“That’s a long time,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “It can feel like a long time.”
“Is it hard?”
“The job?”
“No,” she said. “Is it hard to stay awake all night?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “It gets easier. You get used to it.”
“I couldn’t do it,” she said.
“You’re doing it now.”
“That’s true,” she said. “I suppose I’ve been awake as long as you have.”
“You could do it easily if you were working,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, “I suppose I could.” But she wasn’t certain. She’d never had a job, and the fact embarrassed her even though there was no way he could have known this.
“It’s nice at night,” he said. “But it’s too quiet sometimes. I don’t usually get to talk with nice people like you.”
She smiled, perfectly aware that something, although she wasn’t quite sure what, was happening between them. “You’re from New York?” she asked. He looked up at her, nodded, looked back down at the tray of silverware. “What’s it like?”
“You’ve never been?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“That surprises me,” he said. “You look like someone who would enjoy the big city.”
“What’s it like?” she asked again.
“It’s busy,” he said. “And loud and dirty. It’s wonderful sometimes. Sometimes it’s awful.”
“It sounds amazing,” she said.
“Sometimes it is,” he said. He polished the silverware in silence for a moment, stared intently at his hands as they worked. “Where are you from?” he asked.
Claire watched his hands and the white rag move across the knives and forks and spoons as he polished them. She felt herself stepping from her own life back in McAdamville and into Donna’s.
“Salisbury,” she said. “My family’s from Salisbury, North Carolina, but I’m finishing school in Greensboro.”
“My family’s from the South as well,” he said.
“Where?”
“Mississippi,” he said. “But we left there a long time ago.”
The train had slowed, but she hadn’t been aware of it until she saw the lights outside her window.
“Is this Charlottesville?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. He stepped out from the behind the bar. “I have to go,” he said. “There are a few passengers boarding.”
“Okay,” she said.
He looked at the table before her. The cookie was gone, and she’d drunk half the milk.
“Do you need anything else?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay,” he said. He nodded. “Good night.”
He turned to go, but she called after him.
“I may still be here,” she said.
He stopped and faced her.
“Just so you’re not surprised,” she said. “I may still be sitting here when you come back.”
He smiled.
“Okay, Donna,” he said.
“Okay, Hampton,” Claire said.
She watched his back until he disappeared down the hall toward the other car. She sat for a few moments, sensed that something about the train had changed. She was somehow aware of the new people who’d just boarded, people who were awake and moving while the others slept, although she couldn’t see or hear any of them.
After a few minutes, she heard the familiar sound of the cars bunching together, and the dining car stuttered forward, and then it allowed itself to be pulled along smoothly. Claire wondered if Donna had slept through the stop, or if the sudden jolt had woken her. She wondered if Donna would whisper her name, hear nothing, and believe that Claire had slept through the stop at Charlottesville.
She tried not to look toward the door through which Hampton had exited, although she caught herself staring into the window and trying to use it as a mirror so that she wouldn’t have to look directly across the dining room. She waited, and after what seemed like a long time she made up her mind to return to the sleeping car, to sneak back into her berth, climb back into bed in her dress, and sleep for the few hours before they arrived in Greensboro.
She moved away from the window, but before she could stand she sensed that someone had come into the dining room. So she relaxed and tried to hide the fact that she’d ever considered leaving. She picked up the glass of milk and drank down what was left of it.