If on a winter’s night a traveler/immediately after the final line of the chapter by the same title

by x. m. perales

I did not board the train. Mr. Calvino decided to make me change my mind at the last possible moment, and now I – and by extension you, as the reader who identifies with me and hence with the author – have been standing in the shadow given off by the overhang of a now closed newspaper stand, without being seen by Chief Gorin and while the train chugs off into the distance.

As soon as Gorin turns around and faces the bar’s interior, I quickly duck into the nearest passageway leading away from the multiple platforms where the trains come and go in relatively punctual fashion. I am more than a little scared over the unknowing of what Chief Gorin represents to me in my current role of suitcase courier (as opposed to some of the other roles I have had to play in my profession, such as map reader, or beret wearer). Is he friend or foe? What fate would have awaited me on the train if I had followed his instructions and boarded? These are the questions that jumble around in my brain, finding no relief in the knowledge that the only way to know for sure that boarding the train would have been the wrong decision, or at least the only way the probability increases that Gorin may have been sending me off to my doom, is if some fatal explosion or other questionable train accident gets reported in the news the next day. Or perhaps there will be a story of some lone traveler with his throat slit neatly across who may have been seen at some point dragging along a suitcase on wheels. The only thing certain is that by staying in this up to now unnamed town, the direction this novel appeared to be geared towards has now reversed itself and has therefore seemingly changed the chain of events that would have otherwise transpired.

At this point in the narrative, I have decided to tell you that while I was careful to not be seen by Chief Gorin, whose role as friend or foe has yet to be determined, I was also avoiding detection by Dr. Marne, for reasons that will become clear to you soon enough, dear Reader. Or perhaps you already suspect what I am up to. After all, what would entice me, or you, to disobey those orders issued by Chief Gorin, when a clear and obvious threat was attached to the orders? Well, besides the possibility of being sent into a trap by choosing the train – but since being seen not boarding the train by Gorin carried with it the very real chance of dire consequences, boarding the train with its attendant variety of options that could veer me off the assumed course, such as a simple matter of abandoning the suitcase in an unforeseen nook or alcove, would have been the less dangerous of the options available.

Going back to the previous discussion – that of what in fact did entice me to stay rather than go (minus the consideration of whether or not boarding the train would be the death of me, and thus more than likely the end of the story – or at least, my part in it), of course you now realize – or maybe realized all along – it could only be a woman that would keep me here. This may or may not in fact be the case, but with little information about my personal reactions and desires to go by, it is easier to start with a universal assumption about men, such as that a woman would be a strong enough inducement to make any man, and therefore me in particular (as a single yet representative sample of all male homo sapiens), want to stay in this town, despite the probable danger involved in doing so. Since the only woman described in all of the events leading up to this moment has been Madame Marne, it is natural to assume that she is the reason my fate has shifted course away from that long-gone train.

Let us assume that you are right in your assessment, and that I am indeed heading off to meet Madame Marne, as I overtly hinted to her earlier on when we were both still seated at the bar. I think you have already decided that I am seeking a night of comfort and gratification in her arms. I cannot pretend that this is absolutely not the case, for that would be a falsehood I cannot be enticed to utter, if not because I am an honest man, then because the author has chosen to make me honest in at least this matter. However, at this moment I think I will be surprising you, because there is another, stronger motive at hand.

Let us say that I was given an alternate set of instructions, in case something were to go wrong with the original plan of trading identical suitcases with someone I had never seen before in my life. Maybe I was given a number of alternate sets of instructions, with the understanding that I would only follow one of these alternatives if something were to indeed go wrong, and depending on other factors taking place. To be more specific, which set of instructions I chose would depend on the exact chain of events that transpired around the issue of the first plan going awry. For example, if the phone call I previously made still went unanswered, but Chief Gorin had come in before Dr. Marne, perhaps I was to follow the set of instructions that would lead me to board the train but hang on to the suitcase; and maybe a slight variation in this scenario would lead me to board the train but discard the suitcase.

As it so happens, the chain of events that ended up transpiring is what has led me on a trajectory down the long, empty corridors of the train station, outside and onto a street formed out of uneven cobblestones, my gait a bit unsteady, which in turn (and in partnership with the uneven cobblestones) makes my suitcase wobble slightly as the wheels lose contact with the ground at interchanging intervals. After a span of time, I am now directly in front of Madame Marne’s store, on the verge of rapping on the shutter. I lift my hand and prepare to knock, when gunfire explodes in a cascading wave all around me.