Oh, Shit! My Debit Card
The train is quiet; no fights or drunkards. I have the seat next to me too. Mom will be excited to see me; it’s been months since I was home from school. I’m against the window, my chocolate colored backpack by my side and my legs on the seat across. I’m in navy, jeans and my college sweatshirt, my usual. Go Bulldogs.
My ass has now molded with the beer-stained seat below me. I have to sit leaning to the side so that I don’t rub against the stain. It would probably be easier to just move to the other seat, but I’m too lazy.
There’s a couple in front of me. They’re cute, young, lively. They’re happy. They look successful. I don’t know why I know that but they have that glow about them. That confidence and chic that someone has when they have a good day. Walking a little bit taller and straighter than usual. He’s well dressed; very GQ, but not too much. Nice sweater and chinos, olive-colored shoes but magenta and blue polka-dot socks probably his little bit of flair for the day. She giggles at one of his jokes and slaps his shoulder in laughter, “Stop it Derek!” she squeals. They have that fairy tale look about them.
She is like a flower. She’s delicate and light like a daisy almost. That’s the only flower I can think of because that was her name, Daisy. Simple domesticated patterns coat her body. Her red Converse is the only eye-catching thing she’s wearing — probably the only eye-catching thing she owns. Pale and sun-kissed at the same time. Very angelic, very white. The girl you bring home to mom for sure.
I feel a little bit better watching them interact. They speak about the woman in her office that smokes at her desk. Daisy hates it, but Derek doesn’t seem to mind, a former smoker himself. The two of them make me happy too, they give me hope. Why can’t I have that one day? Why can’t I have that right now? Why can’t I?
The woman behind me is beautiful. I can only see her when I turn away from Derek and Daisy to see her reflection off of the large glass pane windows on the train. I stare for a bit, not afraid of her to lock eyes with me and I won’t look away if we do. She’s not magazine ad model beautiful. She’s beautiful in her own right. Head to toe in all black, but it doesn’t match her personality. Her dirty blonde hair and Poland Spring bottle are the only splashes of color on her. She’s sleepy, she wasn’t supposed to be on this train. She’s tired of the day, tired of this life, waiting for something new to fall on her lap, me too.
I’m here along with her. I stare at her looking at the window to our left. She blinks every 40 seconds or so as if she’s in deep thought. Possibly pondering life’s biggest questions. Maybe establishing life-goals and possible outcomes. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness type shit. I’ll figure it out soon too.
As I watch the street lamps go on as the train passes by I think it’ll be nice to be home. I’ll take a quiet weekend home with mom, over a weekend cooped up in my room, not wanting to go out and drink seven beers as my roommates do. I’m always just about done after one. I don’t always like the taste. They convince me that I’ll never meet girls if I’m alone in my room, but I bet that’s how Derek met Daisy.
There’s about an hour left on the ride as I see Bridgeport is the next stop. The Wi-Fi on the train isn’t working so watching Netflix on my computer is out of the question. I’ve been shuffling the same 15 or so songs since I got on the train. For some reason, the Celine Dion song that is in “Titanic” is in this playlist. I skip the song every time. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, I just don’t want it mixed in with all my rap, I just haven’t gotten to removing it from the playlist.
Daisy is starting to doze off on Derek’s shoulder. I was kind of hoping she’d stay awake, those two were my entertainment. The lights in the car are off and it is too dark outside in the middle of Connecticut to really take in the sights. Daisy flops her body over to the other side of the seat and leans her head against the window, falling back asleep seconds after. I can hear her snoring even with my noise canceling headphones in. Poor guy.
Derek is pretty invested in his phone as I slide deeper into my beer seat. I’ve completely disregarded the stain at this point, I’ll be home soon enough to just throw my jeans in the wash anyway. My playlist has restarted again and I pull my phone out of my pocket to make sure, “My Heart Will Go On,” doesn’t play when I see Derek turn around. He perks his head up in between the seats, making sure he doesn’t nudge Daisy. He looks at me for a second, I smile, and then he winks, then turns around, and rests back into his seat.
My eyes widen, my first thought is, “Did this fucking guy just wink at me?” The doors on the train open as the train conductor mumbles, “Harlem — 125th Street. Harlem — 125th Street. Next stop, Grand Central Station.” Only ten more minutes on the train. I contemplate leaning forward and nudging Derek to ask him why he just flirted with me. As I sit up, Daisy awakens and asks Derek where they are. “Harlem!” I want to perk up and say, but I refrain, to not disturb Daisy. I think I’m flattered, I might be blushing but I can’t tell in my reflection in the train window.
The train stops one last time and the doors open to Grand Central Station. I struggle to get my headphones back into my backpack as Daisy and Derek walk out of the train car. I let the girl behind me go first, and I trail her closely. I should’ve said hi, introduced myself, but I was too fixated on Derek’s wink. I lose all of them in the crowd into the station as I head to the center to grab a late night snack at the bakery kiosk. I’m fourth in line and wish I hadn’t put my headphones away. I see Daisy and Derek embracing each other on the far end of the station, I see her say, “Call me later,” and Derek pecks her on the cheek. She runs off with luggage twice her size toward the exit doors.
I lose my interest in Derek and go on Twitter. Three people later, I order my strawberry glazed donut with sprinkles and a hot chocolate and as I take my debit card out of my wallet I see Derek hasn’t moved. He’s waving someone down, pretty furiously too. He opens his arms wide and the beautiful woman in all black with dirty blonde hair leaps into him, nearly knocking him over. She drops the Poland Spring bottle as she wraps her arms around his neck. Her heels are nearly at her neck as she kicks her feet up in glee. He pushes her slim body away and locks his lips with hers for what seems like forever.
”Sir, how are you paying?” the cashier clearly doesn’t see what I’m seeing, because if she did she would be a little more patient. “Debit,” I say with my mouth still wide open. I hand her my card and start to walk out the same door Daisy did. Why can’t I have that one day? Why can’t I have that right now? Why can’t I? Oh shit, my debit card.
