Page 17 of Somewhere Along The Line
Two pieces, if you count both me and Piper. Two pieces, because we’re not a unit. What we experienced this morning doesn’t change our relationship; we’re still near-strangers who happen to find themselves witnessing wild events on the B Line.
I will myself to believe it, even while I can’t convince my hand to leave the curve of her lower back.
I guide Piper in front of me, my fingers pressed to the base of her spine as we take our place near the other commuters. Turns out the police want to talk to you when you’ve witnessed a crime, so now we wait.
The excuse to spend extra time with her this morning has my heart palpitating. It doesn’t help that Piper's trying to dissolve into me as we stand here, her head pressing against my shoulder and her body leaning into me as though she can’t bear the weight of her own bones. The panic attack this morning drained her.
An officer with a clipboard inches his way toward us, jotting notes as his boots thunk with each step closer. He’s taking fare cards and transcribing names on a list. He pauses in front of us, eyes narrowing as they dart between Piper and me, and points.
“You two, you’re together?”
My stomach tumbles as I glance at Piper, unsure how to proceed. She smiles weakly, leaving the ball in my court. I can’t blame the guy for asking given that my arm is currently draped around her waist, keeping her anchored to my side.
“You got your card with you?” he asks. “We’re going to cross-reference this written list against the database of all the cards swiped on this line before this stop. Will help us know who was still on the train during the incident.”
I pull out my wallet and hand over my card. The officer gives it a quick once over.
“Ah, gotcha—a family pass. That must make you…” He glances down at the name on the rectangular piece of plastic and then over at Piper, “...Mrs. Newhouse.”
My whole body stiffens, every nerve rising to attention. He turns back to me as he continues.
“I’ve got you and the Mrs. recorded here.” His pen taps against the list, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s a more advanced technology that could be used instead of a clipboard.
“We’ll pull your full names and contact info from the profile associated with your MTA account. You’ll get a call from a deputy within a few days as we’d like you two to come down to the station and give witness statements.”
I nod, not daring to look at Piper as I digest what he’s saying.
“And between you and me,” the man catches my eye, “my gut says this incident will lead to a damages case. Don’t be surprised if you get called to testify. Lawyers love having a family man on the stand.”
His unexpected slap on the shoulder before moving to the next person in line makes me jump. It’s enough to startle Piper away from my side and spring her back to life. The softness of her body draped against mine is replaced with static.
We stand frozen for two minutes or ten—I can't be sure. Neither Piper nor I are willing to make the first move to address what just unfolded.
And to think, I assumed the smoke bomb would be the beginning and the end of the day’s surprises.
“Well, alright,” Piper offers, breaking the silence as she shuffles her feet. “Seems we’re going to have to… figure this out.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” We’re still facing outward, side-by-side, as though the traffic passing in front of the platform has suddenly become binge-worthy.
“The officer said they’d reference your commuter profile—I’m assuming that’s the one you added me to? What exactly does it look like?”
“It shows that we hold a joint account under the Family Fares program. My name is the primary contact, your name is listed with 'spouse' as the designation, and it has my address, phone number, and billing information.”
Piper nods, a slow bobbing of her head that I catch in my peripheral vision. A motion that says,I’m processing this.
“I had to agree to the terms and conditions before purchase—acknowledge that the information provided was true.” It hurts coming out of my mouth, these words that barely squeeze past the giant lump in my throat.
“There was a warning about falsification with a threat of fines, loss of transit privileges, that sort of thing. I checked the box anyway, confident we’d never be in a situation where the validity of our relationship would come into question.”
I still haven’t made eye contact, feeling the breeze tickle the back of my neck as we stand there, still frozen.
“You had no way of knowing this would happen.” Piper sounds like she’s trying to comfort me, but I can tell she’s spiraling. The shakiness of her voice gives it away. “Neither of us did. I agreed to this too, remember?”
It’s silent for another moment as we peer at the cars, each turning over ideas and solutions for how to proceed and coming up empty.
“If you want I could…” she starts to say, directly on top of the “We could decide to…” that spills out of my mouth.
We finally dare to glance at each other, and before I can make sense of what’s happening, a high-pitched giggle cuts through the tension and breaks it up like confetti. The floodgates are open, and all the stress, fear, and uncertainty of the day comes tumbling out of Piper in squealing, heaving waves. Her laugh makes me laugh and soon we’re clutching our stomachs, trying to catch our breath as tears slip down our cheeks.
