girls on trains
I read bodies when I’m bored. This lady here sitting beside me on the train is probably in a hurry, but won’t admit it to herself. She keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs, it’s distracting. The one across is waiting for someone — I can tell just by how hard she’s gripping her phone. That one just came from her shift, her hair is dry. This one just came from… never mind. But I like noting the hurried wet spots her hair leaves on the back of her shirt. (Maybe volleyball practice. Of course.)
Sometimes they come in twos. Those two over there are sisters, even if they look nothing alike. These two: possibly college classmates, possibly fighting, judging by how this girl’s back is turned from the other, and how the other’s fidgeting with her music player. Perhaps she was late. Perhaps it’s her fault. But it’s a petty thing and I think by the time we’re out of here, they’ll be fine.
Predictably, the best things to spot are the lovers. Sometimes they’re easy — they share earphones, or lean too close, or have their hands threaded together lightly. People accuse me of reading into things too much, but just how close do you think do girls who are just friends talk? A hand on the knee, a light touch on the space just behind the ear.
They don’t have to kiss to be obvious. And sometimes, it’s just so clear, they don’t even have to touch. That’s actually kind of sad — the way hands behave when they have to keep to themselves. Sitting in a room full of people this morning, I think I saw that. A piece of paper continuously creased. Fidgeting fingers that hang onto hems. It’s an all-too-conscious feeling — if I angle my legs this way, do you think they’d know? How much can I show without really showing anything?
How close can this get without anybody ever finding out?
*
I once dated a girl I couldn’t hold outside walls, and it drove me crazy — was it a disease? Why should we hide? In the absence of doors she was a totally different person from the one I had in a handful of morning afters. People told me I was wasting my time, and maybe I was.
*
I don’t have to tell you how we ride trains these days: side by side, a hand in hers, a book in the other. Sun in our eyes.
(Originally posted on The Last Girl)
