how to hide
The doors slide open and the subway train sound
beeps in announcement
once
twice
You step up onto the edge into the subway car and scan it
and estimate
what seat will be the furthest from anyone else on the car
You take one of many empty orange seats facing the other side of the train car
in the corner and look down,
pulling out your book with purpose, eyes controlled,
every part of your body is aware, tensed, muscles clenched,
your headphones play an indie-pop song about love and you can’t hear it anymore
the men that followed you into the car are animated talking about something with large hand motions
and your heart speeds, thunders, your teeth grind
Don’t look at them. Keep your eyes down.
Look at the book, cross your legs.
Please don’t sit near me. Please.
They pick seats where you hoped they would on the other end of the car.
A breath escapes you.
Not far enough because their drunken voices compete with your music blaring in your Noise Cancelling Headphones you brought for this reason.
You check your phone with the book still in your lap.
12:45am. No texts, no notifications.
You turn up the volume on your phone
The train starts speeding and
through your mask, you smell shit and faint traces of marijuana.
You think about putting your hair up,
Making your body take up more space, you uncross your legs
Making yourself seem less approachable
Less favorable to someone who thinks about approaching
Make your body say Don’t Fuck with Me
Make your eyes seem harder,
not angry but not kind either,
eyebrows up but not too furrowed,
assuming calmness
If you look angry, they want to fight
If you look kind, they want to talk
You open your book and re-read the same line
once
twice
but instead of thinking about the words
you are thinking about how it is just you
and two men on the train
and the space that exists between you
how no one would see
anything if they made a choice
why is it always just men on the subway this late?
Why?
you know why.
The indie-pop artist continues to serenade you in your headphones about the man she loves.
two stops pass,
once
twice
the men are laughing without a care in the world, arms wide, hands exaggerating
your jaw is clenched, your mouth is a line
and you wish you could hear your music
and your breathing is quiet and unnoticeable
you cross your legs again
Another man enters the train with a pizza box
The smell of grease and cheese wafts into the car
Your stomach grumbles.
He sits across from you and looks
Directly at you and bites a piece off his slice
Chewing with his mouth open, he moves it at you,
requiring you to respond
But you can’t hear him because your music muffles his voice,
singing about love and heartbreak.
Your heart races and you feel it in your ears,
You feel it against the hard chair your back is pressed into
and you stare down at your phone you just picked up
and look at it intensely and pray
for the next stop to come soon.
You ignore him like a good New Yorker and hope he gives up
He waves his slice at you and says Hey and repeats his question
How Are You Doing Tonight? chewing
You know this because you had to pause your music to make sure
you heard him in case he was saying something
you needed to hear
or in case he would start getting closer
if you didn’t give him your attention
you wonder if he is talking to you
because your legs are crossed, and you are making yourself small
you remember a man you ignored on another train another night
who knocked your phone out of your hand and pointed at you and yelled
when you tried to ignore him and burned a hole through your phone with your eyes.
you pretend you are in control when you ignore
but you know they could do anything they want
when you are looking away at the empty seats across from you and
silently pleading
You stare into your phone like it’s the most interesting thing you have ever seen
and look at nothing on the screen
trying to think this one will be different
praying
you uncross your legs and
you wait.
Until the next train sound beeps at the next stop
once
twice
And you grab your things
and your jilted book and you sprint
out as the doors slide apart onto the train platform
and look like it’s your stop
Then you jog down the platform into the next car connected to the one you just left
afraid that if you went to the car further away,
the doors would close on you before you made it there
You find another orange seat and hastily sit down
Put the book on your lap again.
You breathe or sigh
Once
Twice
And you look into the window of the door connected to the train car you just left
You pray he doesn’t follow you
Or see you
And you try not to look at the door connecting the train cars
And you take a breath as the train beeps again
Once
Twice
and the doors close and
you wait for the next man to step into the car and you pray it’s not one with a pizza box
you uncross your legs
your playlist moves to a dance-pop song about wanting to sleep with a guy you just met on the dance floor that you don’t hear
And you think you could die tonight
And you skip the song
