“Even more reason to stay away.”
“No, good rumors. Like she’s crazy. A little animal.”
“And that’s good how?”
We made our way outside and headed for the subway station on West 57th to catch the F train. Midtown is always congested at that hour but we were nearing the end of winter. The sun beating down between the buildings drew even more people out onto the street. I weaved in and out of the masses while Scott trailed me.
Right before we reached the station entrance he spoke loudly from behind.
“She’d probably be into anal.”
I stopped and faced him at the top of the steps going down. “Scott, this conversation is wrong in so many ways. Let’s just end it here, okay?”
“I’m your boss.”
“Exactly.” I trotted down the steps toward the turnstiles.
There was an old woman playing a violin at the bottom of the steps. Her clothes were dingy and hair was a gray, matted mess. The strings on her bow were hanging off, like floating foxtails but she was playing Brahms flawlessly. When I threw five bucks in her case, she smiled. Scott shook his head and pulled me along.
“I’m trying to keep you happy and productive, Matt.”
I swiped my Metro card. “Give me a raise. That will keep me happy and productive.”
The station was crowded. A train was pulling up, but we were stuck behind a huge group of people who were pushing toward the front like they had somewhere important to be. Scott was content to hang back and stare at a woman who had her back toward us. She stood near the edge of the platform, rocking from heel to toe, balancing on the thick yellow line. There was something striking about her.
Scott elbowed me and then waggled his eyebrows and mouthed “nice ass.” I wanted to punch him in the neck.
The more I looked at the woman, the more I felt drawn to her. She had one thick blonde braid running down her back. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her black coat and it occurred to me that, like a child, she was teetering joyously to the rhythm of the violin echoing against the station walls.
When the train finally pulled up, she let people rush past her and then stepped in at the last second. Scott and I stood on the yellow line, waiting for the next, less-crowded train. Just as the train doors closed, she turned around. Our eyes locked.
I blinked. Holy shit.
“Grace?”
She pressed her hand to the glass and mouthed, “Matt?” but the train was pulling away.
Without thinking about it, I ran. I ran like a crazy person to the end of the platform, my hand outstretched, willing the train to stop, my eyes never leaving hers. And when I ran out of platform, I watched the train fly into the darkness until she was gone.
When Scott caught up to me, he looked at me cautiously. “Whoa, man. What was that about? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“Not a ghost. Grace.”
“Who’s Grace?”
I was stunned, staring into the void that had swallowed her. “A girl I used to know.”
“What, like the one who got away?” Scott asked.
“Something like that.”
“I had one of those. Janie Bowers, first girl to give me a blowie. I beat it to that image until I was, like, thirty.”
I ignored him. All I could think about was Grace.
Scott went on. “She was a cheerleader. Hung around my high school lacrosse team. They all called her the Therapist. I didn’t know why. I thought she was gonna be my girlfriend after that blowie.”
“No, not like that,” I said. “Grace and I dated in college, right before I met Elizabeth.”
“Oh, like that. Well, she looked good. Maybe you should try to get in touch with her.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, but thought there’s no way she’d still be single.
I LET BRODY, the seventeen year-old salesperson at Verizon, talk me into the newest iPhone. It actually costs eight dollars less a month to have a newer phone. Nothing in this world made sense to me anymore. I was distracted while signing the documents because the image of Grace, on the train, floating off into the darkness, had been running on a constant loop in my mind since we had left the station.
Over pizza, Scott showed me how to play Angry Birds. I thought that was a big step toward overcoming my technology phobia. The girl Scott was hoping to see wasn’t working so we ate our pizza and headed back to the office.