Touchable Silence

As they quickly walked down the stairs, the guy asked if the girl brought her subway card. She shook her head shyly and apologized for her forgetfulness. Gently patting her back, he told her not to be worried because she could use his. She nodded and smiled back at him.

At the entrance, he swiped the Metrocard and let her in first. Passengers hurriedly entered the platform as they heard the train arriving. She was waiting for him at the end of the line. The train slowly stopped at the platform at the same time he joined her. His soft touch on her shoulder was the signal for her to wait until the crowd entirely got into the train. They both entered the train last and then were leaning against the door facing each other. Tonight the temperature had dropped down to below fifty degrees, and it was even colder inside the train. She put her hands in her pockets to keep them warm for at least a few minutes. He did exactly the same thing. She longed to approach him and ask him for his warmth. But something stopped her from doing this. Even though he was standing in front of her, she still could feel the distance and remoteness.

“You know what I just realized?” she asked with sadness in her eyes.

“That this is the first time we’ve ridden the subway together?” he replied almost instantly.

She nodded slightly and was satisfied with his answer. This was not the first time he had correctly answered her question. There were also a couple of times when he had completed her sentence. She might have believed in this coincidence if she spent a lot of time with him, but she hardly saw him in person. Mostly he would phone her to checking up on her.

The train reached their destination. They exited the station and were walking along Broadway. There were fewer crowds than she would have expected on a Saturday night. Perhaps it was because of the cold fall weather. Along the way he told her a couple more stories, as he loved to do.

“Have you ever been to this place before?” she asked when they walked past a restaurant housed in one of the oldest buildings in the city.

He checked out the menu placed at the front door.

“I came here for brunch. The food was good,” she said, enthusiastically confirming her willingness to spend the rest of the night with him here.

“This place is fine,” he finally agreed.

They were seated at the small table next to two girls who were talking and laughing quietly. After a long day of work without anything to eat, she already knew what she wanted to order. The waitress finished taking their orders and brought them two glasses of water. In the meanwhile he continued telling her great stories—the movies that took five years to produce and the band that had only one popular song. She loved listening to his powerful low-tone voice. Sometimes she closed her eyes and just listened.

As she enjoyed her meal in front of her, he asked, “Are you going to get mad at me if I ask you something?”

She carefully looked into his eyes and said, “Yes, I will.” Without further question, she continued having her dinner.

He was amused by her reaction. “How could you possibly answer the question you don’t even know?”

“I know what your question is,” she said like she knew that he was the love of her life. “But I am not going to say it. You have to tell me!”

He knew that this sentence completion would end like it always did. Reluctantly, he said, “Okay. Here’s my question. Are you going to get mad at me if I don’t want you stay over and if I want you to go home?”

“Yes, I will.”