Page 4 of Caper Crush
We cross the street, pass by a graffitied, green mailbox, and jog down the steps of the C subway station.
“What were you doing in Tokyo?” I slide my MetroCard through the turnstile.
“A friend’s wedding,” he says. “And seeing family.”
We walk up the platform and stand by one of the wooden benches. The C train should arrive in two minutes.
I could make conversation, but I’m still annoyed that he pretended he didn’t recognize me after catching up to me. We both stare at the poster advertisements that pepper the white-tiled wall.
The subway pulls into the station. It is crowded, as usual on a Saturday morning, with a mixture of tourists, families, and people with plans. We get in and stand, holding on to the aluminum bar. William lowers his backpack to rest it on the floor at his feet. I check out the subway posters to see if any announce the Vertex Art Exhibit. It’s my new favorite pastime. Every year, the Vertex show picks thirty up-and-coming artists to exhibit. And this year, they picked me. And then during the show, a panel of judges anoint their five favorite artists to watch. The train pulls quickly out of the station and swerves. I swing slightly, caught off guard, and grip the bar tighter.
The person seated in front of me looks up and rises. “Here, you can have my seat.”
I forgot I looked old.
“No, that’s okay,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” She looks concerned. “I’m getting off in a few stops.”
“No, it’s okay. It will be harder to talk then.”
“Oh, of course you want to talk to your son,” she says.
My son.
William snickers.
“Mom, you should take the seat,” he says.
I want to kill him.
“You’ve raised him well.” The seated woman stands.
“Here, Mom, let me help you sit.” William takes my elbow.
I sit. I can feel myself blushing, mortified.
The construction worker next to me says, “If you guys want to talk, I’ll get up too.”
That’s nice of him. I feel a little weepy at everyone being so considerate. I wipe away some wetness from my eyes.
William says, “No, it’s okay. I can’t take your seat. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.” And then he leans down and whispers loudly to the guy, “She’ll only nag me about whether I’m dating anyone.”
“I don’t nag,” I say stiffly, sitting upright and shooting a death glare at him.
The guy laughs.
William smiles sweetly at me and resumes studying the subway advertisements.
I say, “I’ve found a nice girl for you to date.”
He looks down at me, one eyebrow raised.
“She is a very successful lawyer. She can’t cook, but she can support your derelict lifestyle.”
“Maybe you do want the seat,” the guy next to me says to William.
“You shouldn’t give up your seat. He’s perfectly healthy to stand,” I say.
