by Nikki Harmon
It’s already 10pm and not the safest time to take the subway, but it’s usually pretty empty and I always go to the first car, right behind the conductor. As I walk down into the station I see a young woman sitting by herself on the steps. She’s alone with her head down on her knees. She has a plastic bag next to her that looks like it has some clothes and cans in it. I’m wondering if she needs help or if she’s just waiting for the train and I slow down. I think I can hear my train coming, but it sounds very loud and it’s not in front of me but in the back of my head. An older man with a long dirty beard is eyeing us from further down the platform; he has his hands in his pants and I can almost smell him from where I stand. Then my eyes start to blur, I feel heavy and underwater. I tilt left and I see me stopping and talking to the woman. I tilt right and I see me walking over to talk to the man. The sound gets louder and louder. It’s the train. I glance at the man, then turn and stoop down next to the woman. My vision clears and the train screeches to a stop.
“Hi,” I say to the woman. She doesn’t look up, doesn’t budge. I watch the man stumble onto the train. Through the smeary Plexiglas, I can see two teenage boys on the train; they are bobbing their heads to a beat on their earbuds. They are amped up and fidgety like they are looking for trouble. The man hesitates, but he’s already on. He heads away from the boys, but they turn towards him. The door closes and he looks up at me. Our eyes lock and his face is somber, eyes hard with fear and resignation. I mouth “sorry” and close my eyes praying that he’ll be all right. The train pulls off. I look back at the platform and see a shadow of two people making their way down the platform: an old stooped man and a young woman. I squint but they fade away. I hear quiet snoring. I look down at the woman again.
“Hey,” I say, “Hey, are you ok? Do you need some help?”
“Leave me alone! Can’t you see I’m fucking sleeping! Fucking cunt!” she slurs but she means what she’s saying and I back away, confused.
What just happened? I slide my card through the turnstile and stand on the platform. I keep looking for the people I think I saw but there is nothing there. I look back at the woman. She has slumped over her knees again, her bag sliding down a step. The station is empty. I squeeze my pepper spray bottle in my pocket and feel panicked. I’m worried about the old man. I keep thinking about that shadow of the couple, where did they go? Why did I think it looked like the old man and me? That’s crazy. I try to shake it off. The train finally comes and I get on it. A SEPTA cop gets off my car and heads over to the woman. I see him shaking her shoulder as the train pulls away.
As soon as I get off at my stop and get up to the street, I call Jenny.
“Hullo?” She answers on the first ring.
“Hey Jen,” I say but then I hesitate. I try to think of the right words … ‘look, something weird is going on’ … ‘I think I’m seeing things’ … But they all sound straight from a science-fiction movie … So I settle on keeping it simple, “Are you doing anything? Can I stop by for a minute?”
“Yeah, I just got in but hurry up. Mom and Britt are asleep and I’m tired.” She sounds it.
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” I say and I hurry down the street, looking over my shoulder for the tenth time.
Jennifer and I have known each other since we were toddlers in Miss Jackie’s Lil’ Scholars’ Daycare. She lives three houses down from me, across the street and we’ve been best friends since we fought over the last candy apple at the kindergarten open house. Growing up, Jennifer had the unfortunate reputation of being a good girl. Sweet tempered and well-mannered with dimples in both cheeks, her mother never let her go out the house with a hair out of place. Adults loved her. She was always the teacher’s pet, and, except for our kindergarten tussle, she never got in trouble. Jen and I became like sisters. We went to the YMCA camp together, took dance classes together and her mother taught both of us how to drive a stick in her beat-up red Toyota. Some years we talked every day and other years, we hardly saw each other at all. But if I ever had a problem, or needed a favor, I could always count on her and she on me. Even when I came out, even when she got pregnant, even when I ran away, even when she became a stripper.
I climb up her front steps and text her that I’ve arrived. She opens the door and beckons me in. I have to squint to follow her. Her mom always kept the house dark – doors closed, thick plastic shades pulled down beneath the billowy gauze curtains, lights always low or off, with just the TV on and its constant blue shadows. I always wondered how they could find things or read, or even just be happy, living in what felt like a cave to me. Jenny never seemed to mind then and I guess doesn’t mind now. She leads me through the house to her old room. Like mine, it hasn’t changed much since high school. Tattered posters from school plays remain on the wall, friend’s school portraits still border her mirror and the bookshelf holds her entire Judy Blume collection. There is even her junior prom picture with her second cousin James, six months pregnant and all. She doesn’t look happy in the picture, though. She looks heartbroken. Like someone had stomped all over her heart and left it for trash.
Solicitous to a fault her entire life, Jenny’s composure and wholesomeness crumbled and vanished when she met Alonso Belafonte Malfis. He was handsome, charming, attentive, older and bad to the core. He took her to a strip club when we were just juniors in high school and even though I’m certain she was on birth control, she became pregnant and he dumped her shortly thereafter. But she didn’t know it that day. She found out over the course of the week when he never returned her calls, when none of his friends returned her calls, when he moved away from Philly and she never heard from him again. She looked for him after she had the baby, thinking the sight of her beautiful little face would bring him back. But she never found him. She did find herself a job though. She’s been working at a strip club for two years now.
Tonight, she is sitting down across the bed from me and waiting for me to tell my story. I can see she is tired. She’s probably been dancing since 3pm. I gauge her face and decide to tell her only about the old man, how scared and vulnerable he looked and about how I could have helped him but didn’t.
“Damn, Kimmie, that is messed up. But I don’t think you should feel responsible for that, I mean you tried to help someone, right?” Jennifer said.
“Yeah, but I know something bad happened to him. I picked the wrong person to help.” I don’t know what else to say. I don’t even know how I would tell her about the other thing. Sigh.
“Jen, sorry I bothered you, I know you have a lot going one, I just, I’ve just been busy with school but I’ve missed you,” I say. I shrug and smile at her. She smiles back at me and reaches over for a hug. She holds on to me and I think she needs it even more than I do. We separate and lounge back on the bed. She starts taking off her toenail polish. It was cherry red.
“It’s good to see you, too, Kim. How’s Temple treating you? I bet you still get straight A’s right?” she asks looking up from her task.
“School is great,” I reply. “I like my courses, the other students are ok, I’m not getting straight A’s but I’m doing ok.”
“You’re still at your mom’s, right?” she asks. “You two doing ok or do I need to set her straight again?” she laughs.
“Naw, we’re good. We don’t talk but we don’t fight either so whatever,” I say. “I’m trying to transfer to MIT next year though, if I can get this fellowship.”
“Still want to be an astronaut? That is so crazy Kim! What if I know somebody who actually goes into space!??! That would be so freaking crazy! I hope you do it Kim, I really do. And when you do, I want to be there. I want to see you go up in a rocket!”
“Jen, calm down! I want to work for NASA, not necessarily go up in space. I just want to work on the projects that send people into space. It’s not going to be me in the spaceship.”
“Awwwww …. Please!?”
“Oh for God’s sake … can we talk about something else, here on Earth. How is
your mom?” I say.
Jen caps the nail polish remover and starts rubbing her feet with lotion. “Well, she can walk, bathe, cook and take care of Brittney, but that’s about it. She’s in constant pain. It’s hard to watch. She’s always trying some new mix of drugs and diets and weird smoothie drinks, but nothing ever works.”
“Sorry, Jen. That sucks.” She nods and inspects her feet. She leans over and pulls out a pumice stone and starts to work on her feet. I turn away.
“Yeah, I wish I could help her more, but I have to work so we can eat and keep the lights on. At least Brittany will be four soon and we can put her in Head Start. That should give mom a break.”
“So, how is work?” I ask trying not to sound judgmental. It doesn’t work because she looks up and glares at me.
“Kim, I know you don’t approve of my work but it’s what I do, what I can do, and what pays my bills. Let it be.”
“Don’t jump on me! I didn’t say anything. I just asked how you were doing, that’s all. You’ve always been a good dancer, glad you’re making it work for you.”
“Are you being fucking sarcastic? Because that is not funny,” she growls at me.
“Let’s just fucking drop it, ok? Forget I asked. Jeez. What can I ask about?” I say. I’m starting to regret calling her.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m PMSing. My bad. I’m crampy. My boobs are killing me and I’ve been bouncing them around for 6 hours straight. I’m just … tired and I have to be up at 7 because Britt will be up and my mom takes 2 hours to get herself together. I’m glad you’re here. Sorry I snapped. I just … I had a bad night but I am really glad you’re here.” She slathers Vaseline on her feet and put on fuzzy socks. “Aahhh …”
“What’s with the feet, Jen?”
“Just some asshole and his rude ass comments. He had the fucking nerve to complain to my boss!!! About my feet! He’s supposed to be looking at my ass, not my feet … asshole. Anyway, want to play spit?” She pulls some cards from her nightstand and grins at me. I grin back.
“Yup! That’s exactly what I want to do. Got any chips?” I shake off my coat and settle in. We play cards until midnight when I creep home and go right to bed wrapped in the comfort of friendship. Too bad it didn’t last long.
Chapter 4
“It’s time for the percolator! It’s time for the percolator! Breeeeeerrrrr!” That’s my alarm going off at 7:30 am. Nothing like old school house music to get you pumped in the morning. My mother hates it, though, but at least it’s just on my phone now and not blasting through the house. I can hear everyone is already up and downstairs eating and getting ready to start their day. I contemplate going to chat with them, but I know that it will be more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe I’ll hang out with the kids this afternoon. I haven’t spent much time with them since school started. I’m a terrible older sister.
I step into the shower and relax as the warm water gently kneads me awake. I think back to last night and the subway, the old man, the woman asleep on the steps and the shadow. What was that? Uneasy, I turn my thoughts to Jennifer. I love how once we cut through the distance of time, we fall right back into our friendship. It’s always been that way. When she was gone for two years and came back to take care of her mom and daughter, it took us a day or two to be ourselves again. It was like our friendship had formed a hard crust on it like a scab on a knee. We just had to soften it and scratch at it bit by bit until we could chip it away and get to the raw but resilient friendship underneath. I’d grown up jumping rope, playing Spit and Spades, piercing ears and discussing boys with her for hours. Me, her and another girl on the block, Kendra, had been thick as thieves from 3rd grade, when Kendra moved in, to the end of high school when we all went our separate ways.
Kendra came later, but she always managed to be the center of attention of our little trio. Jen was the “good girl”, I was the “smart girl” and Kendra was the spitfire who couldn’t keep out of trouble. I wonder where she is now.
I get out of the shower and plan my day. Breakfast. Class. Studying. Class. Then home for pizza and movie night with the family. Before I can even get dressed though, my cell phone rings. It’s Peter, the only other student worker for Professor Patel. He can’t make his 6-10pm shift and wants to know if I can cover for him. It blows my plans up, but extra money is extra money and I agree to do it.
∆∆∆
After classes, I grab a steak sandwich and Coke from Zo’s food truck, wolf it down in the student lounge and head over to work. When I get there, I tell the lab monitor that I’m there to cover Peter’s shift and he walks me down the hall to lab room 12. I explain to him that Peter and I do the same work and that I usually work in lab room 19. He says that Peter always works in lab 12 and that’s all he knows. As soon as I walk in, I’m confused. The sweet potato vine is there with all the microscope slides and the testing kits. But it is not enclosed. It’s in a regular classroom lab with 5 other students either starting or ending their shifts. They are eating, listening to music through earbuds, opening or closing laptops and just being normal. I see a couple of kids who look familiar, but I don’t know the rest. Weird. I turn to comment to the monitor, but he’s walking away, talking to another student. I look at my instructions for the evening ticked into the lab kit – hornet pheromones, increasing dosage, directly on the buds. No problem there, but why isn’t the plant isolated? I chalk it off to experiment protocol, maybe it’s just another part of the experiment. I decide to enjoy the company and access to music while I can. By the end of my shift, I’ve debated the consciousness and psychology of plants, argued for the superiority of cats over dogs, explained how I plan to get to Mars in the next two decades, met two other Biophysics majors and arranged a study date with a math major. I could use some help in linear algebra.
Light-hearted, I bop out of there and head towards the train stop when I get a text from Jennifer. She asks me if I can meet her at Silk City. I have a bag full of books and I’m dog-tired, but it’s Friday night and I have nowhere to be in the morning. I tell her yes, and catch the train Southbound. Clutching my pepper spray and looking past strangers, I transfer to the El at City Hall and then walk three blocks from the Spring Garden stop to the diner. By the time I get there, I’m absorbed in trying to work out how much a cab will cost me to get home. I almost miss her as I enter the front door.
“Hey Kim!!!” I look around and see Kendra, with Jen smiling ear to ear behind her.
“Kendra!!” I shout and run over to give her a big hug, awkward for all my books but genuine all the same.
“Since I saw you yesterday, I thought it was time for the three of us to get together, just like old times! I miss my girls!” exclaimed Jen.
“Let’s get something to eat, I’m hungry as shit!” says Kendra. I concur and we head into the diner. We get lucky and score a booth. I need space for all my books, so they sit on one side and I sit on the opposite. We order rum and cokes (thank god no one asks me for ID!) and some food and get to catching up. As usual, Kendra dominates the conversation, but I don’t mind. I’m just happy to see her again. It’s been two years already.
“So, I know you bitches want to know what I’ve been up to … well, don’t choke but I’m a personal trainer …” I choke on my drink. “…and a real estate agent…” Jen frowns and gapes. “…and I’m getting married …” Jen and I both yell, “what?!?!?” “… to a white boy.” We lose it. I knock over my drink, Jen throws her hands up in the air, we both start blabbering and the other customers turn to stare. Kendra tries to shush us but it’s just too much. The waitress comes over to clean up my drink and I can’t even think to thank her, I can’t even close my mouth.
After an hour of explaining and re-explaining, two more drinks and constant head shaking, I’m wrapping my head around the idea that Kendra has changed. I cannot believe somebody could make this kind of 180-degree turn. Kendra was the badass of the whole neighborhood. She had a quick temper and would lose it if she felt she was being disrespe
cted. I can’t begin to count the number of fights I pulled her out of nor the number of felonies I have personally seen her commit. She had been a decent rapper and was training to be a boxer before she became a dealer’s girlfriend. That was right before we graduated. I distanced myself from her when she got with Tyrell. I can’t mess with drug dealers. I have plans. But somehow, she left Tyrell (with a broken finger, mind you), went back to the gym, started training someone else, then another, then another (turns out lots of women like tough love), then got hired, trained a real estate agent who talked her into taking the test, became an agent and fell in love with the first divorcé she met trying to buy a condo. Unbelievable.
Spinning from Kendra’s news and tipsy from the Captain Morgan’s, we decide to go into the club half of Silk and dance. They are playing some Emo and I could use a good sweat. We head in, it’s hot, it’s thick and funky and full of people dancing their asses off. It’s exactly where I want to be. We tuck our coats and my bag into a corner and turn to check out the dance floor. Some gay boys are tearing it up in one corner, some breakdancers are battling it out in another, some couples are getting their freak on and a group of girls are under the disco ball letting go their work week stress. We bob our way into the fray when the DJ throws on “Break for Love”. My jam. I close my eyes and lose myself in the music. When I open my eyes, I see Kendra drifting towards this tall brother with long locks and a generous smile. Jen is grooving in her own little world, keeping her circle tight around her and smiling to herself. I spin around and see a girl smiling at me. I smile back. She looks towards Jen and raises her eyebrows. I shake my head and she starts to dance towards me. Suddenly I hear the roar in the back of my head and my vision starts to blur. It takes me a second to realize it is not the music or the drink but the thing is happening again. I tilt my head left and see Jen dancing alone when a drunk and angry man grabs her and forces her to her knees. I tilt right and see Jen and I heading out the door together. I try to look around to see more, but it blurs and the roaring gets louder. I shake my head to clear it and I start making my way towards Jen. The cute girl is watching me. She shrugs, then dances over to another corner of the room. I stop dancing and just stand there. Jen opens her eyes.