Robert Travail’s footsteps landed heavily on each stair as he descended. His right hand lightly gripped the half-rusted railing to keep himself steady as gravity did most of the work on his behalf. He wanted to movefaster, but the crowd in front of him was too thick for anyone to proceed with much speed.
The masses around him weren’t even his most pressing concern, as annoyed as he was by their presence, their closeness, their sluggish progress. As he struggled to navigate at pace with his fellow commuters, he was trying to maintain concentration on the voice in his ear, held there by his other hand.
“Did you really think that this was going to go any other way?” a sad feminine voice asked him through his phone.
“I suppose that I shouldn’t have, but I did have hope,” Robert replied. He finally could see the platform below, for which he felt relief.
“Robert,” she sighed, “if we did this, it would make things so incredibly awkward. We’ve known each other since seventh grade. You’ve been like a brother to me. You and Adam and Frank.”
“And you’ve been like a sister,” Robert replied. “But it doesn’t have to be like that forever. Adam and Tracy–”
“Adam and Tracy are different,” she snapped back. “They were flirting for years before they finally got together. It was part of our group dynamic. They went to prom. It was bound to happen.”
“Okay, and who else went to prom together?” Robert finally reached the bottom step and moved to the side near a map of the station.
There was a pause on the other end. “Did…did you feel this way even back then?”
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose, resigned to answer truthfully. “Yes.”
Another pause. “I suppose that I can see that now in hindsight. But you need to know that I never felt that way. And I don’t now.”
He could feel his ears getting hot. “If you don’t, then what was Saturday? Why’d you invite me in?”
“I was…lonely. And you felt safe. If I’d known you’d make it more, I wouldn’t have. That’s my fault. I’m sorry about that. It was a mistake.”
“Can’t we just try it out? I’ll put off leaving for Traverse City…”
“You can’t. The school year starts in a month.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
“For what? Robert, listen to me. You need to let go of any chance you think that we have. Saturday was a one-time thing, and I regret it even more now that I know what you thought was happening. Plus, you have other stuff to figure out that is more important. I don’t think that you really know what you want, including when it comes to me.”
Robert’s grip tightened around the phone. “Of course I do. I’ve known that I want to be with you for a long time. And I’ve known that I’ve wanted to be a teacher for a long time.”
“No,” she replied, “your father knew that he wanted you to be a teacher for a long time. He required you to major in education, he got you that job in Michigan. He ignored how talented you are at drawing, and Iwatched the light drain from your eyes every year you were in college. You need to figure out who you are and what you want to do way before you attempt a relationship with me or with anyone else.”
“Kat…”
“No, Robert. I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to go, and so do you. Goodbye.”
The line went dead, and he resisted throwing his phone against the tile wall. He stared blankly at the ads in the tunnel, and then slowly turned to get a bearing for his surroundings.
The subway was as crowded as the stairs had been, the platform teeming with a cross-section of humanity. There were parents holding young children close, the latter oblivious as they tapped on phone games or disassociated with whatever music played on their earbuds. People in uniform including city workers, nurses, and restaurant servers watched the arrival times nervously. At the far end a busker sang a warped version of a Bob Dylan song while several older men in tattered clothing meekly asked around for loose change.
Robert checked the time on his phone and exhaled. It still would be a few minutes before his train arrived. He spotted an empty bench and sunk onto it while mentally replaying the conversation with Kat.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
He flinched at the interruption. Another man sat next to him, a soft, pleasant pair of eyes peering from above a bushy white beard and just under a light grey fedora. As Robert took in the full sight of his bench partner, he realized that the man’s suit and overcoat all perfectly matched the color of his hat. He rested his arm over the back of his seat, his legs crossed toward the target of his question.
“I said, do you know where you’re going?”
Robert gazed at him, confused. “Um, yes. That’s why I’m sitting here.”
“Is that really why you’re sitting here, though?”
Robert’s brow furrowed. “Of course it is. I’m waiting for my train.”
“But do you know where you’re going?”
“Why would I be here if I didn’t?”
“You may have a place to travel to, but you may not have a destination.” The man smiled, his eyes twinkling.
“What the hell does that mean? I bought a ticket and I’m on my way to Pottstown. Same as every day.”
The man chuckled. “Same as every day,” he repeated. “Same as every day.”
Robert’s ears were starting to burn again. “Look man, my day isn’t starting out so great. And whatever you’re doing isn’t helping. You can keep sitting here if you want, but I really don’t feel like talking anymore. Okay?”
The man regarded Robert silently for a moment, amusement still evident in his features. Shifting in his seat, he reached into his overcoat, pulled out a card, and held it toward Robert. He didn’t move until Robert hesitantly took it from his hand.
“The Sonic Door. Then you’ll be on your way.” The man stood, tipped his fedora, and seemed to disappear into the crowd.
Robert looked down at the card. It had an embossed gold circle on one side, and that was it. Before he could make sense of the man or the card, the rumble of the train grew from down the tunnel and emerged into the terminal a moment later. The people around him pressed toward the edge of the platform as the doors opened. The throng doubled in thickness for a few moments as those departing and entering the cars navigated around each other.
Robert waited for the masses to thin out a little. He stood and watched for a car that didn’t seem as full before his gaze rested on the very last one: there were no passengers visible inside, perhaps due in part to its doors remaining closed. These details were strange enough to Robert, but the final one that piqued his interest was a symbol on the doors: a large gold circle.
He stood in front of the doors to this last car, still trying to understand what was happening. He glanced down at the card in his hand, and then back at the door. The terminal was now mostly empty, but the train hadn’t left yet. His thoughts were interrupted when the doors opened, as if just for him.
With one last wary look around him, Robert walked inside.
