The man on the metro never broke her heart, and never would. No, that honor was reserved for the men above ground and was a pastime that she somehow kept participating in. She had a habit of romanticizing the men that she would never see again; picture their row house in Adams Morgan where together they would live with their rescue dog and three kids. No, metro men would never break her. Never make her feel alone. She would see them only for an instant, and then they would move on.
Glancing through the window at the opposite track was a means of solace for her. She thought about the possibility that maybe one day, one of those men would jump up and run to meet her. Run to introduce themselves and say they must know her. Of course, none of them ever would, but she wasn’t offended.
That didn’t happen to women like her. What did happen was hurt, heartbreak, and treachery. What did happen was men who begged to be with her, only to take it all away sometime later, when they realized they had gone about it all wrong. Some of them would even beg to try again, once, twice, one of them three whole times. All that begging just to up and quit again a couple of weeks later. Men.
She had become some sort of butt of a joke. Whose joke, she wasn’t sure. Her cynical side liked to think that it was the universe that took pleasure in harming her self-image and trust of others, but she didn’t have quite enough audacity to assume that the whole entire universe bothered itself with tormenting little old her. She thought about the people who always say, “Oh, it was God’s plan for me to be here today.” God absolutely didn’t take time out of his or her day to make you walk into Starbucks and try the new $7 drink, she thought. People should really get over themselves. Maybe the joke belonged to the entire male population? She pictured a group of skinny, annoying white men all circled together, flipping through photos of her, basking in the glory of her misery. Now that was a joke.
No, the man on the metro was the solution. She would spend her life idealizing the perfect gentleman. He would be in a suit, coming home from his corporate job perhaps, carrying a shoulder bag, one of those faded, brown leather ones, obviously. He would have his headphones in, trying to distance and dissociate himself from the stress of the day, as she often did on her commute too. He would be kind, the type that you could see in his eyes, warmth radiating from his pristine smile. She would live out the rest of her days fantasizing this idyllic man until she died. That was easier than getting hurt again. Yes, that would be just fine for her.
Or so it was, until a man on the metro said, hello.
She hadn’t always been this way, cynical. She wasn’t quite sure when the switch had occurred. The almost constant comings and goings of people through her life certainly didn’t help. Those who claimed they would stay, then go, or those who never had the chance to know they were going to leave.
First, there was her grandfather, who left and didn’t come back. That is, after all, how death works. The final departure of someone special to you, seemingly taking all of your heartstrings with them in one fell swoop. This was always one of the things in life she wished to skip, to not have to live through. She didn’t believe in God, for herself at least. She did her best to respect other people’s beliefs and connection to a holy being, but she didn’t like the idea of someone having that amount of power to take things, people, love away on a whim. She never felt as though there was enough reason for someone to be taken away from life itself. This would always be her battle with the universe.
Losing people who didn’t matter, through their own voluntary exit of your life, was one thing. Those people shouldn’t have been there, they made that clear. But why was it that the people who really, truly mattered still got taken away too. Told by some force that it is time for them to go, even when everyone around them wanted so desperately for them to stay.
Life’s moments and events had simply been broken up into two categories: the departures of those she had wanted to leave, and those who she hadn’t. 10 years ago, it was her grandfather, who she wished would stay. Five years ago, it was her high school sweetheart, although that had ended because she moved away, so in the end, it was the best for both of them. Four months ago, it was Him, the one that made her lust after metro men.
The metro man was everything she had ever imagined. He was tall, clean-shaven, well dressed. Except this one was looking right at her. She was confused as to why he was looking at her, why he spoke. Didn’t he know that he was a metro man and that by design, he wasn’t supposed to speak or interact?
“Is this seat taken?” He gestured to the seat next to hers, adjacent to the aisle.
“Oh, um, no it isn’t. Go ahead,” she scooted further against the window even though no part of her body or belongings were even close to touching the empty seat. She tried to make herself as small as she possibly could. This moment was unprecedented. She had never been close enough to one of the metro men to smell their cologne before. A rough, smokey scent that sent every nerve ending in her body tingling. She was in sensory overload. It was everything she had hoped it would be, of course, everything about him was.
Yet, she felt so intruded upon. This man was not supposed to be next to her, not supposed to be real. She didn’t like how close her fantasy was to her in the flesh. She felt like he was a flaming sun, approaching her, and if she continued to be this close to him, she would be engulfed.
It was crazy to her, how one could feel so bad for those who deserved to leave. Why was it the ones who needed to go, should go, that she could still see every day? How unfair was it that she could see Him in a Starbucks near her house, and yet she was only left with the memories of her grandfather in the back of her head, all things that were slowly fading.
She could remember the Hardy Boys books they would read together in front of the big fireplace in her childhood home. He showed her all of the original black and white monster movies like Dracula and Frankenstein and was absolutely the reason for her obsession with mysteries and shows like Criminal Minds. He instilled in her everything she associated with herself; her strength, stubbornness, heart big enough to hold the whole world and then some– it was all thanks to him. Her grandfather was the one she wished she could pick up the phone and call when these other sad men broke her heart. She wished there was a direct line to his wisdom, she wanted back what she only got to hold for 15 years. There wasn’t a day, an hour, or a minute that she didn’t miss him. She cursed the man she could see in Starbucks, who was somehow allowed to waltz in and out of her line of sight without a care in the world. How is that the ones who are still alive, are the ones who do the haunting?
She really felt for her grandfather right before his departure, life is a lot to handle when you get old. All of your loved ones tick off one by one as if each minute on the clock is an appointment for someone new; as if there was a ticket purchased for them before they even know it. His appointment came and the goodbyes were traded. Her heart had never been more broken. 10 years doesn’t do much to dull that pain, she found. She still stumbles through life trying to figure it out, how to continue after that loss. She finds herself staring blankly into space, teary-eyed in public, trying to hide the lack of control for her emotions. How would one explain to a concerned stranger that she was simply crying over a loss from 10 years prior? There would never be a time when she was out of the woods of that darkness, where she could experience anything and not feel a slight amount of separation and sadness. She was so young when it had happened, she didn’t realize that this loss, was only the beginning.
Metro Man glanced down at the book in her lap. When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön lay across her tightly crossed legs, bookmarked by her thumb.
“Good read?” he asked shyly. “I’ve been meaning to read more, sort of as a new year’s resolution situation. My sister-in-law has been recommending that book to me for a while now.”
He has a sister-in-law, she thought. She wondered more about him. How many siblings did he have? Were they close in age? Was he the youngest? Oldest– She stopped her thoughts short. She didn’t want to know about him. She didn’t want to give herself the chance to like him more than she already did. His soft dark-brown hair swooping to the side appeared to be effortless, amber-colored eyes smiling at her. She realized that her analysis of his features had created a long pause in the conversation. Awkward.
“I like it so far, but I only just started, so I can’t say for certain,” she finally replied.
“Right, right of course. Sorry, I don’t mean to disrupt your reading.” She felt bad now, worried she had come off as abrasive.
“That’s alright. It’s hard to focus during rush-hour anyway,” she retorted.
He flashed a faint smile at her, looking as if he wanted to keep talking, but was worried about bothering her with continued conversation. She hesitated for a moment, knowing she should just allow him to take the hint and remain silent for the remainder of her trip. But she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to pick the metro man’s brain, see what he was about. Just then, the train came to a lulling stop, an announcement over the loudspeaker declared a delay on the tracks and that they would get moving shortly. Great, she thought. Metro Man shifted in his seat at the announcement. She could feel the discomfort and tension growing.
“So why reading?” she asked with a crack in her voice. She wanted desperately to fill the silence now that they were stuck. Desperately enough that she couldn’t take the time to form a coherent sentence, apparently.
“Oh well, I’m trying to branch out, I guess. Do more than work and sleep.”
She laughed at the irony. That was exactly what she had thought when she was in the bookstore a week ago picking out the new book. She had been trying to distract herself and redirect her life since the departure of Him. She had tried several times to kickstart her life after that moment, but nothing had really worked. She wondered if the Metro Man might be trying to do the same. Had he ever had his heartbroken?
It was always the moments you least expect when people enter your life and change things so drastically. She hadn’t really been waiting for anyone to come, but He just showed up at her door, fell into her lap, so-to-speak. He made her realize she had been lonely, even though she hadn’t noticed it before His arrival. He entered her life and she realized that there would never be a time in which she wasn’t thinking about Him or missing Him for the rest of her days.
He presented himself as permanent, but came and went as he pleased. She would have trouble not resenting herself for the rest of her life for letting him back in as many times as she did. Even months later, her brain still allowed him to enter her dreams every night, undoing any progress she had made in the days before.
He was the ghost of her life. The one who followed her in her mind more than anyone else who had left before. She would read all of the motivational quotes and tweets that were supposed to help one get over things like this, breakups; It seemed so trivial. She even laughed at the sarcastic jabs from the internet about strong women not letting skinny white boys break their hearts–guilty as charged. She would have to remind herself that was all He was, some skinny white boy with the dumb haircut that every guy has– all of the guys with bland brown hair and no personality.
He had been the one to leave every time. She wished that she had been the one to tell Him to go, to get out, that He didn’t belong in her life anymore. But she was hopeless about Him, and He knew it.
He always knew it. From the moment He approached her, she was stuck and completely out of control. She told herself at the end, that she would never trust a man who approached her ever again. How would she ever be sure of their intentions? He had told her over and over how much He wanted to be with her. That this was it, she was the one for Him. He would say how amazed He was that she wanted him back. She was too. He said that He wanted to get a dog with her, he didn’t even like dogs. He told her about how anxious He was when they were separated, how much He agonized at the thought of running into her, that He had a panic attack when he saw her walking down the street one day, even had the audacity to think she had left town to getaway. Nevermind the fact that she didn’t eat for a week after He left her because her body rejected everything that wasn’t Him. Wow, He was really dumb.
But every time He said sweet nothings to her, begged for a place in her life, He up and left again a few weeks later because He had made a mistake. Eventually, in the final run, He called her and said He was burned out from the back and forth. His own back and forth had burned Him out so much, that He didn’t want to come back. That was the last she had ever heard from Him, that time, he had left for good.
She broke all her rules for Him. Just like her decade of grief, it was going to take her entire lifetime to try and forgive herself for letting this one do all of the things he did.
The train had been stuck on the tracks for ten minutes, but if felt like an eternity to her. She and Metro Man had traded the particulars: he works at a small law firm, she works as a marketing consultant for small businesses; He lives in Cathedral Heights, she lives on last thread of the city before it becomes Virginia; He has a dog named Ralph, but everyone calls him Ralphie, she wishes she could have one, but her landlord has strict rules against animals. The conversation went on like this until there was a pause, when they ran out of casual information to share about one another.
She looked down at the book in her lap, still bookmarked with her thumb. The curiosity popped in again, about why someone would recommend such a book to him- why would Metro Man need a book about healing? Before she could contain it, her curiosity got the best of her.
“So why did your sister-in-law recommend this book? It’s kind of a heavy read for just getting back into the hobby.” She winced internally, did she seriously just ask that? What if there was something really dramatic that had happened?
“Oh, well to be honest, my mom passed away a couple years ago, and my sister-in-law thought that this would help me begin to mend that. Still a tough subject even two years later,” he said it so casually, but she still noticed the wave of pain flash across his eyes, for an instant. If she had blinked in that moment, she would have missed it.
“Ah, I see, sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, no, it’s okay. This is actually one of the first times that it has come up and I haven’t felt… awful,” he paused. “Since we’re on the subject of sharing traumas, how about you? What led you to this book in particular? You lose someone too?”
“Uh, yeah, something like that,” she said, looking away toward to blacked-out window, trying to hide her embarrassment. She was not about to compare the loss of some stupid man-child to someone losing their mother.
Silence again filled the void between them until Metro Man spoke again, filling the gap like a hero without a cape. God, she liked him. He asked her where her favorite place to get coffee was in the city. He said that he was planning to find a new spot to hang out and always wanted recommendations. She named a few that she liked near her neighborhood, ones that were good for work, others that were good for reading and conversation.
“Maybe you could show me one sometime if you wouldn’t mind allowing another coffee addict in on your territory?” he said with a smile.
Did he just ask her out? Did a metro man, this metro man really just ask her to do something with him? This is unprecedented. How on earth could this be happening?
“I have a pretty busy schedule as a workaholic…” she began to say, “but if you want to leave me your number I’m sure I could find time to be a ‘Cafe Ambassador,’ sure,” she replied. Her words shocked her as they came out of her mouth. Was she really sitting here agreeing to spend time with a metro man? Was this really happening?
He handed her his business card and told her that she could text him if she’d like, and to let her know if she were ever in his neighborhood because he would love to show her his favorite coffee spot too. With that, the train began to move again, and he rose to his feet.
“This is my stop, but it was great chatting with you. Thanks for making the commute a little more bearable today.” She smiled back at him and watched as he departed through the double doors of the train.
Her body relaxed as she leaned back in her seat. She looked down at the card he had given her and ran her finger along the edge. The train began to move again, and she sat there smiling, feeling a renewed calmness wash over her. She tucked the book back into her bag and prepared to exit the train. She realized that her most recent interaction had done more for her than that book ever would.
Her stop was called and she rose, exited through the double doors, and ascended the mile-long escalator that would bring her above ground once again, back into reality. She continued to smile as she felt the little piece of the metro man still in her hand. She looked at it again as she entered into the dipping sunlight of the late afternoon and smiled, holding onto it as a reminder that he was real.
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