Sunday, June 17, 2007
I got on the 1 train at 110th St. tonight. Our eyes met. I knew her. Did she remember me? She was the best friend of someone who played a not inconsequential (or so it seemed at the time) role in my life for a year or so (more?) of my teenage life. I'd spent some time with this best friend as a part of her group of friends. How much? I can't quite recall, besides the instances she showed up in pictures from the time. But I know it was more often than just those times. I sit down in the only empty seat on the train. It is opposite hers, but there's someone in the way. It's not really her, I say to myself, doubting that first impression. But before I can think for very long, we're at 116th St., the Columbia stop, and she's getting up to leave. Not a glance in my direction. I follow her with my eyes as she walks away from the train. For a second or two, I consider leaping out and tapping her on the shoulder. Were you friends with ... ? Because I still can't remember her full name, although I have an inkling about her first one. I hesitate. I'm headed farther uptown. I hesitate some more. The doors close and I miss my opportunity. There is a good chance it would've been awkward. Then again all this happened several years ago now. Still, I kind of wish I hadn't hesitated. You never know who you'll see or what part of your past will be resurrected on the subway.