The Seating

a story about a insecure girl who is met by a boy on the New York City subway.

There I was, standing on the 14^th street subway platform waiting for the A train to take me home. It was night-time in February, and I was coming from class where my classmates and I listened to a guest speaker talk about making our dreams come true. It was a nice idea: to be inspired; but, I was also really cold and I’ve found the cold be awfully uninspiring. I didn’t feel like dreaming impossible dreams—No, I had my earphones on and I was listening to a pretty song with a little soft voice singing to a lightly played piano. I felt more like shuffling my feet than looking where I was going, so I took notice of all the people waiting for the A train and I silently apologized to 6 of them for getting in their way.

The train pulled up and everyone walked into the car like they were suppose to, and I meant to proceed with caution too, but I noticed a boy listening to his headphones—he reminded me of me. Instead of quickly moving to one side to allow the passengers behind me room to get on, I faked left, then right—almost sitting in not 2, but 3 different locations. I disrupted the commuting flow and made other people recalculate their automatic pilot. After turning a full circle in the middle of the car, confusing the people within my circumference, I finally landed in what was suppose to be another man’s seat. He looked rattled and quickly rethinking his position, he walked two rows down, taking another man’s seat; which, meant that man had to quickly plop himself awkwardly between two other men, even though further down the train car there was pretty much an empty bench. The man probably would have walked down to sit where there was more room, but he didn’t think of a plan B, everything should have gone according to plan A. Taking full responsibility for upsetting the seating pattern, I bit my lip and stared really, really hard at an advertisement for foot fungus, silently apologizing to 7 more people.

Still biting my lip and feeling horribly responsible, I felt the eyes of someone watching me. Without moving my eyes from the fungal advertisement, I tried putting my focus on my right periphery, but I focused too much and accidentally glanced in that direction—I looked! Oh, I did, and I met eyes with the boy who reminded me of me. He had been watching me bite my lip and silently apologize to the people who were still relocating their seats because of me.

Now we both were looking into each others eyes and it is a startling feeling for both strangers involved, a moment that requires a quick redirected glance. We both looked to see if anything happened to our shoes, both us agreed everything was fine with our feet, so we tried to sneak a look at one another again. He went first.

His coat seemed to be bothering him, so he scrunched his face to say, “Hmm, why is my coat all bunched up between me and this seat? Let me see if I can fix it.” His hand reached around to his back, his eyes followed, and on the way he looked at me. I pretended not to see him. After everything was okay with his coat, he settled back in his place, and it was my turn to look at him.

I already had something going for me with staring at the advertisements, since I took such an interest in the foot fungus, I figured I’d build off of that and I looked up above me to see what was posted. I stared at something promoting a college, but I’m not sure, I wasn’t really thinking about the ad, just tilting my head, squinting my eyes, and making a “thinking about this ad” face. Next, was my big move, I looked directly above the boy who reminded me of me, and I looked at the advertisement so hard my stare implied I need glasses. I could see the boy, hands in his pea coat, and half smirking.

The A train came to a stop. It was my stop. I put my purse handles in my hand and sat at the edge of my seat. The boy took his hands out of his pea coat and placed them on the edge of his seat. It was his stop, too. As the doors opened we both stood up and walked out of the train. Circumstances were different now, we didn’t have to stay put. He would have to choose a direction to walk and I would have to decide which way I needed to go.

The boy that reminded me of me looked left and right to find his bearings. He coughed a little bit and dug his hands into is pockets. There was hesitation in our shoes, we danced below the exit signs. I took a deep breath along with a small step, then another, and another, until I was moving my feet and clenching my thoughts down to a simple “I hope, I hope, I hope…”

 

He walked up next to me. Up the steps, he stayed right there; down the corridor, he stayed beside me. I thought drastically inadequate thoughts about myself, then biting my lip I reminded myself who walked up to who– and decided to smile instead.

“What are you listening to?” He said. He walked up to me, so I told him what I was playing through my headphones. He replied, “Me too”.

After some shock and a few more steps he asked, “Since when? Since,” He side-stepped and gestured behind himself

“–Since the train, yea.” We both looked at our feet, “Repeat?”

“Mmhm, not always, but today—since the train,” He side-stepped and referenced the last time he gestured behind himself, but added a head nod. I knew he was referring to his last reference. He made a very nice referral.

“So? Soft voice and a lightly played piano? You like that, too?” A pleasant surprise crept over our faces.

“Yea, I do…I like that a lot actually,” he said, because there isn’t really any way to explain exactly how music affects your soul, it’s really too personal.

“Hmm…”

“Yea, it’s—uh, really amazing,” He looked at me biting my lip and burying my chin in my scarf, disguising my smile with wool. He had walked right up to me, and now he was watching me tuck my nerves into my coat.

This most perfect stranger from the A train and he’s standing so close to me that I know he recently pet a cat—it’s hair is on his coat. I can see his eyes much clearer then I could on the subway, and I saw that they were kind and nervous, neither blue or green, but some irrelevant in between color. He reminded me of me.

“Here,” He double-stepped in-front and stopped me by the wall. Taking an earphone off he extended his arm with a peace offering, “See?”

I put my hand out and smiled, I think we shared a moment—we did. We shared a moment. I was wearing one of my headphones, one of his, and listening to the same song playing just before the bridge and right after the chorus.

“Oh, wow,” I smiled and laughed, “that’s the same song all right, it’s weird when it plays at different parts.” I smiled. My stomach growled—I hoped he didn’t hear it.

“Huh? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said?”

I relaxed a little, he clearly didn’t hear my stomach, “No, it’s okay—here, you listen to this, it’s strange.” I traded earphones with him so he could see what I heard.

His nose wrinkled, “Huh, yea. That’s nuts.”

“Yea, I know, right?”

“Yea.”

Standing off to the side of the street with our ear buds tangled and our conversation thinning, I retreated back into my head. Here I was with the boy who reminded me of me and we were sharing the music from our coat pockets. This was a weighted situation, I was in the middle of something happening. Worst part, it was happening. I leaned against the wall and resumed biting my lip. It wasn’t enough, so I pressed my knuckle to the side of my cheek for leverage and scraped the bottom of my boot on the crack of the sidewalk. I could feel my muscles tingle, they were tensing up, my heart was making it’s grand entrance, making it’s function known, it wanted a round of applause. My thoughts were falling flat, my attitude was sharp, my brain was conducting a symphony that my body couldn’t play. Please, not now. Think about the good things, remember good things can happen to you, you just have to believe. I was secretly quoting passages from self-help books, inspirational posters, and fortune cookies.
Just then, my new friend leaned against the wall. He took out a cigarette and gestured the pack—I smiled a sigh of relief, pulling a pack from own coat pocket. He lit his, then lit mine. A cold shower fell over my face like the girl in the commercials, something was happening–but I wasn’t afraid. Like the tropical oasis I didn’t know would escape my shampoo, I was pleasantly surprised how fresh and clean this boy made me feel.

Reviews

[Leah Elisabeth]

This is interesting. It is very well written and had good unity to it.