The Story That Never Was, Chapter 2

This is the Number 7 Train from East Lindell to North Everett, a hustling mode of public transport that carries its passengers on swift wings from their homes to their places of business. People get on, and off, read newspapers, browse the latest headlines on their mobile devices and blip, tweet, and google as the world passes them by in the form of brightly colored blurs. Let me point out someone special, you see her, boarding the train at the Pine Avenue stop? How could you miss her? Those electric blue stockings could stop traffic let alone the way they are paired with her pink heeled boots. She stumbles through the doorway, allowing herself to be jostled by all the rest eagerly rushing home. She’s too tired to care much any more. All her muscles ache a bit, simultaneously from sitting and standing for too long. Even so a smile still waits in the corner of her red mouth and her eyes are hopeful. It’s just been a long day, not a bad one. Her emerald green fingernails tap a simple drum line on the back of her iPod as she shifts the volume to accommodate the increase of noise on the train. That is the kind of person she is. Silly and strange. She was just the kind of girl he would have noticed, and would have made way for if he had been at the doors when they opened, but he wasn’t, and you be wondering where he is. If you wait a bit you’ll find him. Just a little longer. And there he comes, rushing up the stairs, hoping to make it before the doors slam shut, and the train abandons him to 32 minutes of silent standing. You notice his rushed steps still fall to an unheard rhythm? It’s the rhythm of his music, ruining the last of his still functioning hearing. That is the kind of person he is. Clumsy and awkward. And little do the two of them realize the machinations in motion. That their lives will be changed today forever. But don’t let me ruin it for you, just see for yourself, because this is the day they meet...

Of course there were no seats left, not that she expected anything less at 6 o’clock in the evening. She sighed and looked up at the bars that hung from the ceiling, meant to be used by standing passengers to hold on while the train was in motion. She didn’t even bother to reach for it, she knew from experience that the tiptoes it required to grasp the slippery bar weren’t worth it and would only make the strain on her poor tired legs even worse. So she did her best to wedge her way into the crowd in the hopes that they would cushion her and keep their hands out of her pockets and off her person at the same time. No dice. The train started suddenly, without the usual ringing warning bell, and she stumbled backwards towards the door where she landed against something soft and entirely too person shaped for her liking.

He reached out his hand as the doors started closing, determined to wedge himself into the packed train and be home on time for once. But as soon as the doors shut, and he attempted to make his way to the back as per his usual routine, he realized something had gone wrong. That black and white scarf had rebelled against entering the train and so now flapped outside the speeding bullet, enjoying the cool evening air. Of course He wasn’t enjoying it as much as his scarf was. His options were plain: abandon the scarf or deal with the massive middle section crowd. He didn’t hesitate, he remained close to the door. Noticing the seat right next to it, known to him as the land of jostled elbows, was available, he casually began slip in front of it, but a sudden start of the train, and the force of a tiny girl caused him to be dropped into it less than gracefully.

“I’m so sorry!” She gasped as she realized she’d landed right into a poor man’s lap. She turned around, face scarlet with embarrassment. Her preference would have been to get away from the situation as quickly as possible but the crowd had quickly sealed back up from the wake her tumble had caused and she really had nowhere to go. She popped one of her earbuds out as she managed to grab onto the armrest of his seat in an attempt to prevent the entire incident from happening again. “You’re alright aren’t you?” She asked with a big smile, hoping that if she just ignored it her blush would fade away. He had only slightly groaned when he bounced into the seat, but his face went blank, and grew somewhat flushed as he heard the sweet voice come to him through the ebb of his music. He couldn’t help but smile shyly, glancing at his lap, “I’m... I’m fine.” When he looked up, he couldn’t help but notice her holding onto his arm rest, he looked back to her, then the ceiling railing, then back to her, doing a bit of calculation in his head. It wasn’t as complex as it may have seemed, it ran down to something akin of: tiny girl plus big train equals no good. And without thinking twice, and forgetting about his scarf’s little rebellion, he stood up, and nudged a standing passenger slightly as he reached up to the rail, offering her the seat with a gentlemanly gesture one would see a maitre d’ perform as he showed a fancy young couple to their booth. “You should sit down, this train can get really bumpy sometimes,” he said more to his scarf’s back end than to her, shyness taking him over, but not enough to overcome his manners

She looked at him for a second with surprise and then her smile doubled in size. “Thanks!” She plopped down into the seat again, almost as ungracefully as she had the first time. “And they say chivalry is dead.” She crossed her legs and pulled the plaid fabric of her skirt back down over her knees, jiggling her foot slightly out of habit, forgetting for a moment the close quarters of the train car. As was her custom on public transport she did her best to avoid all eye contact possible with those around her but her gaze kept shifting to the man in the scarf who stood before her. Something about him intrigued her. Wait a second... She spun her thumb around the volume dial on her iPod and listened closely. “Voxtrot!” She blurted out suddenly. “You’re listening to Voxtrot!” He had to stare off to the side, as his usual custom of staring down would have had him staring at her legs, and that would have made the situation a little more awkward than it already was. And just as a song came to its slow closing he heard the very name of the artist leave her mouth. He blinked, then slowly turned, a bit surprised, pressing the down button on his Zune rapidly to lower the volume, he nodded, opening his mouth for a second before saying anything, “You listen to Voxtrot?” His tone was more of admiration that surprise. The sort of admiration one were to give to a great author at a book signing, prefacing every use of their name with a Mr. or Ms. just to make sure you weren’t toeing the line of fowardness. She nodded and turned up the volume of her iPod as loudly as it would go so he could hear ‘Rise Up in the Dirt’ pouring out of her headphones. “I just was.”

The garbled voice of the conductor came over the speakers. “Ah, this is my stop.” She stood up and realized too late that he was closer than she’d previously calculated. Her face was inches from his chest as she strained to look straight up at him. “Thanks again. For the seat, I mean. It was very sweet of you.” She started moving slowly towards the door but soon found something blocking her way. The stretched knit of his scarf was strung between her and the door. He couldn’t help but smile, he liked that song, it was one of his favorites, and as she stood he noticed how close she was, it wasn’t uncomfortable like it was when other people bumped into him on the train. And so, in his head, more math. This time it was more complex. His stop was 15 minutes further ahead, her stop was now, adding in his lack of desire to stop talking to her equaled out to getting home late, but with a smile. And so, as she wandered to the door, he nervously rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry about that, it got caught.” He moved next to her maneuvering the scarf so she wasn’t caught in it’s trail. “I’m getting off here too. Do you want to walk together? I know a good gelatto place just at the end of the block. Unless you have somewhere to be.” “Why would I have anywhere else to be when there is gelatto involved?”

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