Chelsea dragged her suitcase into the St. Charles train station and found her way to the ticketing kiosks. A friendly looking woman had just finished assisting a couple and welcomed her to use the self-serve ticketing machine.

"I can help you, if you like. Where would you like to go?" the woman asked.

"Barcelona, please," Chelsea replied as she pulled her wallet from her purse.

The woman tapped at the screen on the automated kiosk then explained the schedule, "I am afraid there is no train to Barcelona this evening. You may take the train to Narbonne tonight and then take a different train to Barcelona tomorrow morning. Or, if you wish to stay in Marseille tonight, there is a train that will go directly to Barcelona in the morning."

"Tomorrow morning? I have to take a different train?"

"Yes, you take the train and stay overnight in Narbonne. There is a train that will leave at 6:28 in the morning to Barcelona."

"I..." Chelsea started before a feeling of defeat swept through her. "I don't know where that is."

"Narbonne?" the woman replied as she pulled a system map from her pocket, "We are here, Marseille, Narbonne is here."

Chelsea watched the woman's finger glide across the map and asked, "Does the train go to Béziers? Can I stop there and take the train to Barcelona from there?"

"Of course."

"I know Béziers. I'll go there," Chelsea said as she wiped away the tears that had started to flow.

The woman tapped at the machine again, "To Béziers tonight and Barcelona tomorrow morning. Do you wish to leave early in the morning, or would you like to wait for a train later in the day?"

After a moment of contemplation Chelsea replied, "Just to Béziers. I can buy the ticket to Barcelona in Béziers, can't I?"

"Certainly, but you must be sure to go to the station with enough time before the last train to Barcelona leaves. I can tell you when that is in a moment," she said while the machine processed the ticket purchase. "You will miss Marseille? Or, perhaps it is someone in Marseille that you will be missing?"

Chelsea nodded with her eyes closed tightly, "A boy, but he..."

"Come, we must hurry, the train will depart very soon. Follow me," the woman said as she collected the tickets from the machine. "This boy in Marseille, is he your boyfriend?"

The woman hurried Chelsea towards the platform and bypassed the two staff that were checking the tickets of the final few passengers that were heading towards the train.

Trevor dodged and weaved his way around people on the escalator from the Metro towards the station. He scanned the departures display for a train to Barcelona. Nothing. Narbonne. He recognised the name from their journey from Barcelona and rushed to the platform. The doors of the train were closed and there was no sign of Chelsea, but he needed a closer look. Perhaps he might see her through a window. An arm across his chest and some words in French blocked his access to the platform. He pleaded with no success to just have a look.

"Shit!" he cupped his right hand over his eyes when the train started to move.

Trevor turned his back to the platform and scanned the station for her face. He felt hopeless. His head dropped as he turned back towards the empty track. A few staff members milled about on the platform. The men that had stopped him remained at their post and watched him intently. Trevor walked back towards the platform.

"Please, did this girl get on that train?" Trevor asked as he held up his phone, the display filled with a photo zoomed in to Chelsea's smiling face.

The two attendants shook their heads. It wasn't clear if they were answering his question or refusing to do so. One of the men pointed towards the woman that had helped Chelsea and muttered something in French.

"Hello, can I help you?" the woman asked.

"The train... Please... this girl, can you tell me if you saw her get on that train?" he said as he handed over his phone.

The woman inspected the picture. The photo showed a much happier view of Chelsea. She resized the photo to see and equally happy Trevor at her side. She looked back at Trevor and handed him the phone. She paused for a moment and saw the desperate look on his face. She had picked up a little bit of the story from Chelsea and saw Trevor's eyes pleading for help as he stood before her.

"Please, I messed up... I just need to know..."

"I am sorry. I wish I could help you, but it would be against our policy to confirm to you that she is on that train and if you ask me if she was going to Béziers, I could not confirm that as well," the woman said with a twitch of a smile.

Trevor looked at the woman then closed his eyes, "Thank you."

After an impatient wait in the queue at a ticket machine and a hasty review of the train schedule Trevor decided to purchase a ticket to Béziers that would depart at 20:26, then rush back to the hotel to collect his things and check out. He had a little more than an hour to get back to the station. The ride on the Metro was only about three minutes, pack and check out another ten, three minutes back, there should be plenty of time. Suddenly his thoughts turned to Chelsea and where she would be able to stay the night. Where would she look? He found the number for the Hotel Concorde and dialed. She chose Béziers because it would be familiar and surely, she would go to the same hotel.

"Henry, hello, it is Trevor Leland, I stayed at your hotel two days ago. My friend, Chelsea, ahhh, she is on her way back to Béziers, I think she is going to, well, maybe, she is going to come to the hotel for the night," Trevor said as he dashed down the escalator.

Trevor made sure Chelsea wouldn't be turned away from the hotel as he tried to get past a family and their luggage on the escalator. He left a message with the desk clerk pleading for Chelsea to wait for him. To give him a chance to make things right.

Trevor watched as the Metro train pulled away from the platform. He would have to add another five or six minutes to his plan. Still plenty of time. He paced the platform nervously tapping his hands against his legs as he waited for the next train to arrive.

He rushed up the stairs to the hotel desk, skipping every second step on his way up. His fingers vigorously tapped on the counter as the clerk fished the room key from the drawer.

"You were too late?" the clerk asked.

"Yes... I have to get back to the station quick, so please, have my bill ready. I'm checking out," Trevor called out as he headed for the stairs. "I'll pay for all four nights."

Clothing and toiletries were tossed into the suite case in a haphazard fashion. Things Chelsea had left behind were retrieved from the floor and carefully added to case then the zipper was drawn closed. The clerk had the bill finalized and wished Trevor luck. Moments later, he was stumbling his way towards the Metro platform. Once again, he arrived in time to see the train roll away. Add another six minutes. Still good.

It wasn't until he was on the train and rolling away from the St. Charles Station that Trevor noticed the arrival time in Béziers 9:33, — AM — Tuesday morning.

"Shit! Stupid! Stupid!"

*****

Chelsea arrived at the Concorde Hotel and hoped the desk clerk would recognise her and allow her to stay one night despite her age. Henry greeted her with a smile and a room key.

"Your boyfriend called to tell me you would be arriving," Henry said as he accepted Chelsea's credit card.

"Oh," she said as her eyes sank towards the floor. "Did he say anything else?"

"Yes, he left you this message and said he would be on a train. And just a while ago he called again to say he purchased the wrong ticket and will arrive in the morning," Henry added as he studied her face. "There is more on the message slip, but the phone call went dead, so it is maybe not complete."

He handed Chelsea the room key as she thanked him. She collected her suitcase and walked up the stairs to her room on the first floor. The slips with Trevor's unread messages were crumpled up and tossed towards the garbage can in the bathroom. She had planned to shower and get right into bed to get back to the station as early as possible, but her stomach rumbled, and a wave of dizziness swept through her as she became aware of herself. She needed to eat. She needed to get out and be somewhere. Anywhere—

Trevor sat in the station in Avignon, wishing the hours away. His train to Béziers didn't leave until 6:38AM. All he could do was wait. Most of the sandwich he purchased for dinner went untouched.

"Stupid! Why am I such a???" Trevor scolded himself while he plugged in his phone to charge. "You'll find her, and if she doesn't tell you to get lost, you'll fix this."

As he sat alone in the station, Trevor rehearsed the things he would say, never quite convinced he could ever say enough to make things right. With these doubts, his mind started to entertain the familiar. His stock answer to his problems. When it came to a natural response to the question of fight or flight, he would always take flight.

"She doesn't need a guy that can't get his shit together! She doesn't want a guy that—" muttered to himself.

Henry had already left the desk when Chelsea walked through the hotel lobby. She echoed back the female clerk's friendly "bonsoir" on her way to the door. At the front of the hotel she looked down the street to her left. She had only gone that way once on her previous visit but didn't feel comfortable exploring at almost midnight. She was afraid she might not find her way back. To her right, back towards Allées Paul Riquet, she knew where to find a place to eat. Back at the plaza, the restaurant they saw with all the lights that first night in Béziers, where she and Trevor had enjoyed a nice lunch. Where they had enjoyed that dinner on their final night in town. She was sure she could find her way there and more importantly, her way back.

While Trevor sat in a train station and cursed himself, Chelsea paid her dinner bill and prepared to leave the restaurant. The waiter offered to accompany her for the walk back to the hotel. She thanked him for his concern and assured him she would be fine. He pointed across the square and offered directions she was confident she didn't need. He stood watch, making sure she wasn't followed as she disappeared down Rue du 4 Septembre.

Trevor found every reason he could to let her go. To let her return home without him. When part of his mind resisted the urge to run away from this problem, another part would convince him that she was better off without him. He would impose himself on her, convince her to give him another chance, then hurt her at the next opportunity. It was a convincing argument. Years of letting people down and running away were all the evidence he needed to pass judgement on himself. He unplugged his phone and walked out of the Avignon Central Station.

Along the walk back to the hotel, Chelsea passed a fountain in an area where the street widened slightly. It wasn't a grand and ornate piece, just a simple and small obelisk like thing that appeared to be where people may have collected water centuries earlier. In the basin on each side of the pillar were flat stones, where jars would have been placed below the metal tubes that delivered the water. She recalled snapping photos of Trevor at the fountain. He had placed his empty water bottle on one of the stones and tried to position it to collect the trickling water. A few blocks away she passed Chapelle des Pénitents Bleus and was again reminded of her previous visit. She suddenly felt more alone than ever before.

She retrieved the message slips from the bathroom floor and read them as she lay in bed.