Page 16 of Somewhere Along The Line
I tighten my grip on her sides, tracing small circles with my fingers, hoping it projects confidence and not my deep-seated fear that something might happen to her on my watch.
My senses are at DEFCON 1 as we wait, my breath stretching my lungs and lingering there, held, for whatever comes next.
Nothing comes.
No new noises after the first crack; no repeated pops to indicate gunfire. Is it over?
I peel my focus from Piper and risk glancing around. A heavy haze blankets the space, making it almost impossible to see anything. It’s quiet now, the sound of the bomb (was it a bomb?) having mercifully dissipated. Whispers and coughs replace it.
My eyes spot movement near the front of the car, and I whip my head to see a lone figure darting between rows. I strain toward the image, willing myself to focus, to cut through the smog so I can make out what’s happening.
The person looks to be grabbing items out of bags people left abandoned on their seats. Within a second, he’s gone, hidden somewhere among the rest of us crouched down for cover.
Holy shit.
The sound and smoke were just a diversion for theft.
The train pulls into the downtown station in near silence outside of the familiar screech of friction on the track. No one moves, no one talks. Piper is still whisper-close, our tiny piece of square footage existing for me and her and no one else.
I assess where I am in space, focusing on details, to bring myself back to our current reality. My feet are on the floor, hip-width apart and knees bent, my soles pressing against the linoleum. Piper’s shoes are between mine but twisted sideways, notably small in comparison to my wingtips. Her hips are settled right below my knee, and her curled-up legs rest on my left thigh.
My arms envelop her top half, my sweaty hands stretched across her back to grip her sides, with less force now that the threat is over.Is it over?
The weight of her rests against my sternum (and also my groin, which I’m ignoring) with her head tucked just below the hollow of my throat. Her wavy hair catches against my stubble as her breath pushes her slightly up my torso with each inhale. I count each one.
My blood pulses wildly in my neck, in my limbs, down to the tips of my fingers. I want to blame the adrenaline still coursing through me from the sound and smoke, but I know it’s not that.
It’s not only that.
It’s been years since I’ve held a woman like this. The thought flashes faster than I can catch it:
Piper fits here.
The train doors open, and a rush of fresh air fills the car: cool, clear, and clean. If anyone exits the train, I don’t see it.
“I called 911!” A man shouts from several rows back. “We’re supposed to stay here. The police are on the way.”
Piper takes a deep breath, her chest pushing into mine as it expands fully for the first time since we’ve been in this position. I regret the way it draws my attention, the feel of her breasts against me as she inhales. She’s still shaking, still curled into a ball within the confines of my body, and she makes no effort to move. It’s more than fine by me.
“Hey, we’re safe,” I whisper in her ear, feeling her relax just a bit in my arms. “It’s over, we’re good. Are you alright?”
She glances up and nods, holding my eyes and searching for something. Perhaps she needs more convincing that we’re going to be fine or assurance she can stay here until she’s ready to move.
Maybe it’s both.
“You can stay like this, you know… with me.” I tuck her hair behind her ear then lightly hold the back of her head to my chest, my palm stretching from the nape of her neck to her crown. “We’ll stay here until the police come, and then we’ll talk to them together. We’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”
We sit in silence for a long while, our bodies intertwined on the floor as people around us stretch and take stock of what’s missing—mostly cell phones and credit cards. I feel Piper’s heart slow as the minutes pass. She unfurls bit by bit as the train fills with chatter plus a few tense laughs as we wait for the police.
“Thank you. I…ugh… I… I had a panic attack.” She’s sitting across from me now, her knees pulled up to her chin as she wraps them with her arms.
Given that we’re still tucked between the seats, she's close enough that I can feel her breath as she utters the words. Even so, I notice her absence acutely, the place that she occupied between my limbs now cold and hollow.
“Thank you,” she says again, and I know she means so much more than that.
“Of course,” I whisper, and I mean more than that too, though I shouldn’t.
A throng of passengers huddles along the side of the station, shaken and sweaty. Piper and I join their ranks. At some point, my gratitude will turn to anger, but right now I’m just thankful we’re off the train in one piece.
