Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all its characters. I am just playing around with them.
I'm late. I'm running so late I'm sprinting to the T stop 3 blocks from the apartment I share with two other girls, Angela and Jessica, who are also in my program. Today kicked off a week of no classes to prepare for midterms, and since it is Monday, I'm trying to get to my hip-hop class after hours of studying. I make it to my stop and wait for the next train to Park Street. My mind flits to the stranger. Will I see him? I can't help but associate him with this commute, dancing, or Alice for that matter. I'm embarrassed about the Clair de lune comment but I don't want to dwell on it like I have been. In the past couple of weeks I've been so mortified, I thought about changing my schedule just to avoid him, but I told myself it's ridiculous, and I got on the train anyway. Each ride I would painstakingly keep my gaze locked on any combination of the window, the pole I'm holding onto, or my book. I've told myself I need to let it go and just be. I'm trying so hard to keep my neurosis in check. I've finally resolved, or re-resolved if you count the fact that every time I get on the train, I make this decision again, that I will not make any further attempt to talk to him… But that doesn't mean I can't look forward to seeing him. I switch to the red line at Park Street and there he is in jeans, converse shoes, a t-shirt with an obscure slogan, and a cardigan sweater. He also has his guitar with him. It's past rush hour, but still, I wonder how we always manage to catch the same train.
Tonight like any other night, I get on the train. I'm keenly aware of his presence, like my mind knows exactly how many feet he is from where I sit, and I can feel our energy collide in the empty space. I divert my attention to digging in my bag for my book. I'm reading Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell, as part of a business course I'm taking next year. I try to read future texts for fun before they're assigned. It helps. It's actually interesting and I'd enjoy it if I weren't hearing snippets of conversation and argument in the next group of seats from me. "…not holdin' right now. Told you not to fuck with me… fuck that… shit… don't owe anything…" and the voices begin to escalate. I glance over to see a tall, blonde haired guy with broad shoulders slam his hand into the handrail as if to emphasize his point. He's standing and leaning over another guy with long dreads, whose arms are crossed, and who looks unlikely to be intimidated. I glance around and notice we're almost across the river between Charles MGH and Kendall so some of these guys must have gotten on at the last stop. As the voices die down, I relax in my seat thinking the argument is over. What seems like seconds later, I hear unintelligible shouting, and the group is standing and almost bouncing with what looks like rude gestures, and posturing, while the train is moving towards Kendall and the light over the city grows darker. The train sways with speed as I watch the drama unfold and we enter the tunnel to go below ground. The blonde guy pulls out a matte black gun and points it in the direction of the man with dreads. Suddenly, the train comes to a grinding, screeching halt and the doors of our car have opened on both sides. I stand, my fight or flight response kicking in, and watch as the gun, now pointing in my direction, goes off.
At first I don't hear anything. Then I hear high-pitched ringing. I'm confused, looking around the train car at the scene in front of me. The group moving to retaliate against the man that pulled the trigger, the ringing all around my head, in my head, my bag heavy on one side of my body. Then a hand on my wrist tugs me backward, quickly, and I stumble into a body behind me. I turn my face and see him, shouting at me, pulling my arm, and trying to get me to follow him out the door, into the darkness. The next time he tugs, I move, pivoting my arm to hold onto his with my hand. It's maybe 3 steps to the doorway and we jump, falling about 4 feet to the ground outside. I land funny and my ankle rolls, but I get up and follow him into the dark while the ringing in my ears begins to fade. The concrete walls of the tunnel, slick and moist with grime, close in on me, giving at most a foot of space on either side of the train. We continue on towards Kendall, the darkness broken by a small light every 100 feet or so. We're not alone. Seemingly everyone else from the train is trying to get to Kendall quickly, merging into the path ahead when the train has been left behind. There are tracks and crevices longing to reach out and twist my ankles again. He doesn't let go of my arm but I stumble anyway. I let go for a second but he finds my hand and takes it in his, asking if I'm ok. I can hear him and I nod yes. I don't know what happened to that bullet but it didn't hit me and there are no other gunshots sounding in my ears.