wife hears about this alleged ‘break’ they were on and kicks him to the curb for good.”
She nudged him. “Let’s just see how this plays out.”
This is Chicago, said the train’s automated PA system as they pulled into the station. Doors open on the right at Chicago.
Victoria exhaled. She was halfway home, with only two stops to go. Reassured by this, she began to feel proud of her progress, when—
The doors sprang open and all hell broke loose.
A large group of teenagers wearing yellow camp T-shirts clambered onto the train, laughing, chanting some kind of cheer, and pushing each other around.
“Stay together!” someone called out as the group shoved their way inside the already crowded train. To make room, the people at the front of the aisle moved toward the back of the car.
Having no choice, Victoria moved back, too.
It was an extremely tight fit. The people in the aisle were packed in with barely enough room to breathe, awkwardly jostling one another as the train began to pull away from the station. Ford put one hand on her hip, steadying her. With her shoulder pressed against his chest, he shrugged off their situation with the ease of a commuter who’d been in this situation many times before.
“Beats trying to find a cab in the rain,” he said.
Yes. Sure. For normal people.
“That’s true,” she managed to say. She gripped the handle on the back of the seat next to her, suddenly feeling as though it had become uncomfortably warm in the train car.
Please, not now.
She forced herself to say something—anything. “So what was your interview about?”
Ford chatted on, while she silently tried to pull herself together. But every time she’d get into her relaxation techniques—I feel quiet, my shoulders are loose—he would ask her a question, or pause for her to comment. And of course he would, because to him this was just a normal, everyday conversation between two people riding the subway home—not exposure therapy for a goddamn mental disorder.
My legs and feet feel warm and heavy.
As they pulled into the Division station, she had a decision to make. She could get off the train now, which would look really odd since they lived only one stop away, and clue Ford into the fact that something was amiss. Or she could suck it up, and stay put.
The Division station and her stop, Damen, were so close. Only about a two-minute train ride apart.
She made up her mind.
She was going to finish this thing.
A few people got off at the Division stop, but somehow the group of rowdy teenagers just subsumed that space, giving her no respite. When the train began moving again, she took a deep breath.
My neck feels relaxed. My breathing is soft, full, and easy.
The Damen station was aboveground—the Blue Line continued on an elevated track from that point—so any moment now she would notice the train ascending, she would see the gray haze of natural light and hear raindrops on the windows. And then she would know she was home free.
My entire body is relaxed and comfortable.
Ford peered down at her, his lips curved in a coy smile. “Are you around tonight? I thought maybe we could grab something to eat.”
She knew what she was supposed to say in response, the expected quip—You know what happens every time we do that—but her lips felt like they were moving slower and she’d just started to form the words when—
The train came to a sudden stop.
The guy in front of Victoria bumped into her, pushing her back into Ford. She swallowed, and waited for the train to start moving again.
It didn’t.
“Come on. What now?” the guy in front of her complained.
She tried to remain calm—they were probably just waiting for another train to clear the station. But then her mind began racing. What if this wasn’t a momentary delay? What if she were stuck here for a while, in this enclosed underground metal box that had no exits? She’d never make it; she’d already been hanging on by a thread, so the train needed to start moving—now—before she fainted or caused a scene, before everyone started staring at her, because everyone on the train was going to realize that something was wrong with her, and worst of all Ford would know that something was wrong with her, and—
“I have to get out of here.” She tried inhaling, but it wasn’t working; the air in the train car felt oppressively stuffy.