“there was something about you, now I can’t remember…”
“About You” by The 1975
“it’s just another day…”
“The Subway” by Chappell Roan
Henry hated this kind of day in Manhattan. February probably wasn’t anyone’s favorite month anywhere, but still. It was the slush—the half-melted snow everywhere, reflecting the gray buildings and the gray sky to make everything even more gray. It was bleak. He hurried around pedestrians on 5th Avenue, tucking the bouquet of flowers in his hand against his chest. The wind was picking up. He thought he knew bleak winters after growing up in the Chicago suburbs. This year had proved him wrong.
He passed under the arch in Washington Square Park. Pairs bundled in coats, hot drinks in hand, adorned the benches. NYU students, professors, the assortment of people that passed through this park on a daily basis still fascinated him six months after moving here. Rebecca did not like the park—she found it a little too grungy and loud, he knew. She preferred the West Side Highway, saying that it was both bigger and prettier and closer to her apartment. He never brought up that it wasn’t close to his.
Something about the air today reminded him of the dark seasons of college, the blurry period of time between January and the beginning of March when every week sped by because every day felt the exact same.
Something about the air today reminded him of the dark seasons of college, the blurry period of time between January and the beginning of March when every week sped by because every day felt the exact same. But every single person he passed by today was unfamiliar.
He escaped the wind walking down the stairs to the platform. The subway stop at West 4th had taken Henry a month to figure out, which was embarrassing to admit even inside his head. Another thing he compared to Chicago! He missed the L train. Henry hadn’t really realized that no matter how ready he had been to move away, those comparisons were going to be inevitable.
There were only three people waiting for the train with him: an older woman with a bright green roller suitcase and a teenage boy and girl, both carrying instrument cases. The girl kept looking at the boy, huffing, and then looking away. The boy didn’t look at her at all.
The A train rushed into the stop. Henry let the older woman go ahead of him, and she smiled at him, nodding at his flowers. The car wasn’t too crowded, which normally made him a little more anxious, but everything felt so still and detached today, despite the crowds in the park. He picked a seat in the middle of the car, on the edge of the row. An electric blue ad for Hinge took up half the space of the wall in front of him. It was the brightest thing about this day.
That, and these flowers, he supposed, glancing down at his lap. Should you even be able to get pink and yellow tulips in February? It didn’t seem natural, the more he thought about it, but he overthought a lot of stuff when it came to Rebecca. Hopefully she would like these. Well, if not, she would tell him, and probably immediately. So there was no use in worrying too much about it.
He didn't think celebrating three months of dating necessarily needed to be a whole big night at their age, but Rebecca was Into Milestones.
He pulled out his phone to triple-check that he had made the reservation for 6pm. They had talked about this restaurant on their first date, with Rebecca saying that she had always wanted to go before a show. So that’s what he had planned for their three-month anniversary. Which was another thing. He didn’t think celebrating three months of dating necessarily needed to be a whole big night at their age, but Rebecca was Into Milestones. It was sweet, ultimately. He had always admired girls like that, the ones who were so driven and on top of things and had colorful Google Calendars. He kept finding himself in relationships with them and then ultimately failing to live up to all of that energy. But this time, he wanted to make things work.
He glanced through his texts as the train came to a stop and new people filed in. His dad had texted him a picture of their dog lying on its back, hind legs in the air. One of the graduate students he was slowly becoming friends with had invited him to a dinner party next week. His college friend group chat was going over last night’s basketball game in extensive detail, with a couple guys already bringing up plans for the five-year reunion. He wondered if Jane would be there.
The train took off again. He put his phone in his bag but kept staring at the floor. He didn’t think about Jane that much anymore, but in offhand moments he liked to imagine what her life in London was like. Probably working on some avant-garde show. Definitely doing better than him.
In the corner of his eye, someone in black boots was tapping through a paradiddle tap step, which was a nervous tic Jane had always had, and he smiled, in spite of himself. And then he looked up, and it was her.
She turned her head, and there she was. Jane.
“Jane,” he said, almost involuntarily. A statement, not a question. But wait, Jane? Here? Or was it not actually her? The woman’s head was slightly turned away from him, and she had shoulder length black hair. Jane had told him once that she would never dye her hair, or even cut it. But that was her jawline.
She turned her head, and there she was. Jane.
“Henry?” she said, almost accusingly. Her eyes were red and watery. She had on a grey coat and a plaid scarf. She looked very pretty.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said. She raised her eyebrows slightly. He held up his phone like an idiot. “James was texting about our five year reunion, and I was just… just wondering if you were going to be there.”
“Oh,” she said. “I don’t know. It’s a long time away.” Her face was expressionless.
“It’s only eight months away,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” she responded.
Henry couldn’t believe she was here, in this same exact subway car as him, on a Friday afternoon. He couldn’t believe she was in New York City. He glanced at the subway map above him. Three stops until he was getting off.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he blurted out. “Do you live here now? How are you?”
The corners of her lips turned up, in what wasn’t a smile but seemed like her letting her guard down a little.
“Yeah, I moved here three months ago, for a job. And I don’t know, I’m good. I’m busy. How are you?” she said.
“Why did you leave London? I thought you loved it there.” Before they had started dating sophomore year, Jane had once shown him pictures of a townhouse she was obsessed with in some neighborhood of London he couldn’t remember, telling him that she didn’t have a twenty year plan, but that if she ended up in that townhouse, she’d be satisfied.
"I mean, it's been five years. People change."
Jane made another almost imperceptible face at him. “I mean, it’s been five years. People change.” She laughed. “That was so cliche. I’m sorry,” and rubbed her eyes, then looked at him again. “How are you?”
Henry realized that she had probably been crying, and he didn’t know whether or even how to acknowledge that. “I’m good. Um, I’m getting a masters at NYU. I live in the East Village with Carter Thompson, if you remember him. My sister is getting married in November. Things are good.” He wasn’t lying. Things were good overall.
“Nice flowers,” Jane said. “Are you seeing someone?” He couldn’t read her face again.
“Yeah, I am.” Why was this happening right now? How was it possible that his ex-girlfriend could sit next to him in one of hundreds of subway cars, as he was on his way to take his current girlfriend to dinner?
“Another big update,” she said. Jane kept looking at him, but didn’t speak. It didn’t seem like she was on the verge of saying anything.
“We’ve only been together for three months,” Henry said. He instantly regretted his tone. “She’s really great. It’s just new. Who knows if…” He trailed off.
“Yeah, for sure. I get it.” Some emotion flitted across Jane’s face, and she uncrossed her legs, turning towards him. “Wait. Henry. It’s good to see you. I’m a little distracted right now,” and she waved vaguely at her face, “But it’s really good to see you. I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
“Really?” Henry had assumed that he was long gone from any part of Jane’s mind. The train pulled into Penn Station.
“Yeah. I’m actually working on a production of True West right now. It’s kind of what brought me here. I keep remembering how much you loved Sam Shepard,” Jane said.
“That’s really cool, Jane, wow. How’s it going?”
The subway was grey, grey, grey, but Henry felt more awake right now than he had all week.
She sighs. “Well, the costume designer just quit this morning. The sole costume designer. He and the director hate each other—they’ve worked together before, and I don’t know, someone thought things were going to be better this time around, but it’s been bad.”
The subway was grey, grey, grey, but Henry felt more awake right now than he had all week. He was acutely aware of the train speeding uptown, and he was supposed to get off in two stops.
“What’s your position?” He asked.
“Assistant director.” She raised her eyebrows at him.
“Oh, jeez,” he said.
“Yep,” she said. “It was a really stressful day.”
Henry wanted to keep talking to her. He wanted to know everything about her life in London and her life here. He wanted to know if she was seeing anyone. But he didn’t know where to start.
Jane said, “You said you’d never come here.” She was looking at him pensively again.
“What do you mean?” He responded.
“You said you’d never move away from Chicago. When we broke up.” He had said that.
“You just said people change,” he reminded her, and she laughed again but then looked somber.
“How long have you been here, Henry?” Her feet were tapping again, this time in a buffalo tap step.
“Six months,” he said.
“Wow. So we’re both newbies. And you instantly got a girlfriend.” He didn’t know what to say to that, and was starting to feel more frustrated. She always did this thing, this way of making everything sound half ironic and fine and casual, like they had been friends for the past five years and could make jokes with each other.
“I don’t…” This time he made a face at her, and she smiled ruefully and rubbed her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Henry. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m happy you’re happy. Truly.” Henry could see the 42nd Street mosaic sign come into view. Jane took a scarf out of her bag and tied it around her neck, then stood up. “It was good to see you, Henry.”
He stood up. “Wait, that’s it?”
“What do you mean?” she said. He didn’t know what he meant.
“Do you still have the same phone number?” he asked, heart pounding. She looked wary.
“I got a new phone when I moved back to the States.”
“Can I get your new number?” He said. The train stopped, and the doors opened.
“What would your girlfriend think about that? Henry, I have to go, okay? I’ll see you around.” She started walking away. Henry hesitated for a moment, and she had already left the train when he ran after her.
“Jane!” At the foot of the stairs, she turned her head. “Jane,” Henry said more seriously. “What do you mean ‘I’ll see you around’? Don’t say fake, vague things to me, I know that’s not you. We haven’t seen each other in five years, and suddenly, we run into each other again? I don’t want you to just disappear again! And don’t act like I’m trying to cheat on my girlfriend with you. That’s a little arrogant.” He paused. “Look, I don’t have a lot of friends here. It would be… it would be nice to be friends. That’s it.”
Jane said nothing, just kept staring at him with the black hair she said she would never get and the same stone face that used to drive him crazy. Henry didn’t know what to do. He backed up so he wasn’t in anyone else’s way.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone, I guess. I have to get back on the A. I’m sorry. Bye, Jane,” and he turned around and walked back down the platform. He took a seat on the bench.
“Henry! Wait.” Jane had followed him, and she thrust a piece of paper out. “Here’s a flyer for the show.” Her number was written in the largest font imaginable, in what looked like lipstick. She caught him looking. “I didn’t have a pen. Um, you can text me. And if you want to come see the show, I can get you and your girlfriend tickets. And maybe we could get coffee sometime.” She looked shy. “I also don’t have a lot of friends here.”
Maybe he was too hard on himself, too.
“Okay. Thank you, Jane.” She nodded and turned around, and Henry watched her walk back up the stairs. You never knew what would happen next, he supposed.
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. Rebecca had texted him a picture of the sunset from her office building, saying, “Great view tonight! I can’t wait to see you!” He smiled. He was too hard on Rebecca. Maybe he was too hard on himself, too.
