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The T is a new kind of hell that Nancy Wheeler has been adapting to for the past two years she’s lived in the city.
It sounds vile and smells vile and is vile, if she’s being honest. If she were anything more than a broke college student living in an apartment with like, no furniture, then she’d never ever willingly take the T again. Ever.
Except she is all of those things.
Some nights, Nancy likes to take the long way home. By the long way, she means walking.
And tonight, Nancy got handed the late shift without even asking. The subway is always a lot worse at this time of night, filled with breaths laced with alcohol and people who have no idea what they’re doing, where they’re going. So on nights like these, she walks. Is it unsafe? Yeah. It really is. But something more unsafe is being suffocated by an old man in his thirties breathing too close to her and checking her out when he thinks she doesn’t notice.
Nancy shudders.
Another thing that’s dangerous, Nancy thinks, is how fucking cold it is outside at this time of night.
The freezing air bites and pricks at any uncovered skin it can find. It makes her remember why she doesn’t like walking home, either. It hadn’t been like that when she lived in Miami for those few short months. It was always tank top weather down there. She would’ve stayed, had it not been for the creeps and weirdos the city also brought forth. Also, there wasn’t much of a dating pool for Nancy there. Maybe a dating puddle, but most of it evaporated and got rained down somewhere else. She has absolutely no idea where.
But Boston is good. It’s a good fit for her, besides the angry drivers and honking horns keeping her up at night and dreaming of being able to sleep. That part, maybe not so much.
But in Boston, there’s things to see. Even better, things to do . In Boston, Nancy has options. Of course, she’s studying journalism, and she likes doing that—loves it, even. But if she wanted to she could do something else and it wouldn’t entirely destroy her life.
While walking, she notices someone sitting at the bus stop. She slows consciously, narrowing her eyes at the person. They’re staring up at the stars, and it seems like they’ve been doing exactly that for a while now.
It would have been somewhat normal, but the bus stop is abandoned. Broken and vandalized with an ungodly amount of neon spray paint. The city hasn’t offered to repair it yet, and so it’s just always been that way, and probably always will be. It’s a land marker now more than anything. Right now, it’s letting her know she’s about halfway home.
Nancy has no idea what she’s doing, or why, but she steps closer to the stranger.
“Hi.”
Silence.
“…Hello?”
Silence again. Nancy’s heart badumps in her chest. The momentary quiet feels very loud, suddenly. She taps her fingers on the side of her thigh.
“What are you doing?”
Finally, the person on the rickety bench speaks. Quietly, so much so that Nancy can barely hear her. She doesn’t look back at her when she says, “I’m waiting to go home.”
“Buses don’t come out here, you know.”
“I’m not waiting for that,” she says. She’s still looking up at the stars.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“To go home.”
Nancy glances awkwardly to the side. “You said that already.”
“But that’s what I’m waiting for.”
“O-kay.”
The woman finally looks at her. Nancy can’t see where her pupil ends and her sclera begins. Her eyes are wide and curious, like she doesn’t feel the need to blink. Her breaths are spaced out like she doesn’t really need to breathe, either. Nancy hopes she doesn’t spot the concerned expression on her face.
The woman stares at her for a moment, and Nancy stares back.
“Come sit,” she says after a moment.
Nancy doesn’t know why she does it, but she sits next to her. It isn’t exactly far, per se, but it’s not close enough to be considered friendly. She doesn’t seem too bothered by that.
Nancy asks slowly, “What’s your name?”
“I’m… Robin,” she answers, now back to looking at the stars again. “What’s yours?”
“Nancy.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
That prompts her to turn to Robin and stare at her, taken aback.
Robin looks back. Her brow furrows. “Oh. Sorry, was that the wrong thing to say? I’m not really used to talking to many people besides myself, so I wouldn’t really know. Sorry about that. Again.”
Nancy quickly shakes her head. “No, no, I just—I wasn’t really expecting you to say that. It’s not usually what most people say to strangers.” She shrugs. She didn’t not like the compliment, actually. “I get it, though. The ‘not really used to talking to many people besides yourself’ thing, I mean. It’s… yeah.”
“Really? You look like you’d have a lot of friends,” Robin says.
“Well uh, I don’t. Not really.“ Of course, she has Perry, her cat. But she can’t say that . That’d make her seem worse off than she already is.
Nancy waits a moment before asking, “Did you get left behind?”
“No. That’d mean I’m alone.”
“But there’s no one else here.”
Robin motions vaguely upwards. “Sure there is,” she says. “The stars. The moon. Venus is… well, I can’t really tell where it is from down here. It’s a bit small.”
Nancy looks at her. She’s squinting her eyes and glancing around the expanse of the sky, as if she knows every star’s name and its placement.
She remembers that she needs to go home too. She also needs to sleep, to eat dinner (which may or may not consist of toaster waffles and a scoop too many of rocky road). She needs to not be out here, freezing her ass off on an old, broken down bus stop talking with a stranger named Robin about her being so alone out here, and apparently her avid interest in stars.
Nancy hopes she isn’t as alone anymore. She doesn’t feel that bad herself, oddly enough.
“I should go. I shouldn’t be home too late.”
“Okay. Bye, Nancy.”
“Bye, Robin. I hope you get home, too.”
“Thanks.”
When Nancy arrives home, she takes out a gallon of milk that was supposed to expire yesterday.
She cringes and drinks water instead.