Subway Love Read Online Free
Author: Nora Raleigh Baskin
was that her mother had given up wearing a bra completely, along with her panty hose and cardigan sweaters.
“For Bruce’s sake,” her mother told her.
Laura felt her face burn with embarrassment and her stomach knot. She was already plenty afraid of Bruce. He had a quick temper, lots of facial hair, and a fast hand that often found its way across the back of Laura’s head when he didn’t like something she was doing.
No. Laura was certain that no matter how poorly she behaved or how hard her life was, Jan Brady never experienced anything like this.
“Next stop.” Mitchell knocked his knee into hers as a signal and stood.
“I know,” Laura said. She didn’t. She took hold of the metal bar and got out of her seat. The police officer didn’t even look her way. Maybe if he had, maybe if he had asked if she was all right, maybe she would have told him about Bruce, told him everything. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger, the way ladies tell everything to their hairdressers.
Laura turned back, but the policeman had gotten up and was wandering farther away, down the middle of the subway car.
Laura and Mitchell made their way through the crowd to stand close to the doors and wait for the train to stop. The car was full. Two people had already taken the seats vacated by Laura and her brother. People stood body to body, but a youngish teenage boy in a floppy, wide-brimmed hat pushed ahead of Laura and stood just inside the space between her body and the doors that would open any second. Laura watched as the teenager took out what looked like a drill bit. She might have been afraid, but instead she watched as he scratched letters into the metal on the wall. Nearly every inch of the subway car was already covered with sprawling spray-painted graffiti, mostly black, nothing really legible, some red, and in this car, much of the windows was blotted out with yellow of no particular design, but the boy found a tiny space, and on it he carved his name. “Spike,” he wrote, and the date: “October 8, 1972.”
JONAS hadn’t seen his father in four months. At first (after Lily accepted the fact that her dad wasn’t perpetually hospitalized with chronic kidney stones), his dad would come by the apartment on Saturdays, sometimes Sundays. Mostly it was to see Lily, Jonas figured, and so everyone could pretend that he wasn’t going right back to his girlfriend’s after watching
Dora the
Explorer
on TV or playing a rousing round of Candy Land. As if not mentioning it made it not true.
Their mom would always leave the apartment during those visits and stay out longer than she needed to in order to avoid seeing their dad. When she came back, she would walk in tentatively, as if she didn’t belong, and then begin cleaning ferociously, as if reclaiming her territory. But after a while, after one or two birthday parties or a playdate took priority for Lily, or their dad had something else to do and couldn’t make it on a particular weekend, the visits slowed down, and eventually they stopped. Jonas suspected that his dad was arguing to have “the kids”— by which he meant Lily — come to his new place, where he lived with Dingbat (as she was known in their house), but that his mother would never go for that.
So imagine his surprise when Jonas saw his father and his girlfriend on the platform of the Fifty-ninth Street subway station, walking right toward him. It was so sudden, so out of the blue, that Jonas forgot his mission to find the “hippie” girl. He forgot Nick was right beside him. He momentarily forgot how to breathe.
Jonas saw his father immediately, but it was Lorraine who called out to him first.
“Jonas?”
He had met Lorraine only once before, the last time his father came by to visit Lily. His mother wasn’t home, and his dad and his girlfriend both came to the door. Lorraine introduced herself and then — apparently — waited out on the sidewalk, talking on her cell phone or playing on
“For Bruce’s sake,” her mother told her.
Laura felt her face burn with embarrassment and her stomach knot. She was already plenty afraid of Bruce. He had a quick temper, lots of facial hair, and a fast hand that often found its way across the back of Laura’s head when he didn’t like something she was doing.
No. Laura was certain that no matter how poorly she behaved or how hard her life was, Jan Brady never experienced anything like this.
“Next stop.” Mitchell knocked his knee into hers as a signal and stood.
“I know,” Laura said. She didn’t. She took hold of the metal bar and got out of her seat. The police officer didn’t even look her way. Maybe if he had, maybe if he had asked if she was all right, maybe she would have told him about Bruce, told him everything. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger, the way ladies tell everything to their hairdressers.
Laura turned back, but the policeman had gotten up and was wandering farther away, down the middle of the subway car.
Laura and Mitchell made their way through the crowd to stand close to the doors and wait for the train to stop. The car was full. Two people had already taken the seats vacated by Laura and her brother. People stood body to body, but a youngish teenage boy in a floppy, wide-brimmed hat pushed ahead of Laura and stood just inside the space between her body and the doors that would open any second. Laura watched as the teenager took out what looked like a drill bit. She might have been afraid, but instead she watched as he scratched letters into the metal on the wall. Nearly every inch of the subway car was already covered with sprawling spray-painted graffiti, mostly black, nothing really legible, some red, and in this car, much of the windows was blotted out with yellow of no particular design, but the boy found a tiny space, and on it he carved his name. “Spike,” he wrote, and the date: “October 8, 1972.”
JONAS hadn’t seen his father in four months. At first (after Lily accepted the fact that her dad wasn’t perpetually hospitalized with chronic kidney stones), his dad would come by the apartment on Saturdays, sometimes Sundays. Mostly it was to see Lily, Jonas figured, and so everyone could pretend that he wasn’t going right back to his girlfriend’s after watching
Dora the
Explorer
on TV or playing a rousing round of Candy Land. As if not mentioning it made it not true.
Their mom would always leave the apartment during those visits and stay out longer than she needed to in order to avoid seeing their dad. When she came back, she would walk in tentatively, as if she didn’t belong, and then begin cleaning ferociously, as if reclaiming her territory. But after a while, after one or two birthday parties or a playdate took priority for Lily, or their dad had something else to do and couldn’t make it on a particular weekend, the visits slowed down, and eventually they stopped. Jonas suspected that his dad was arguing to have “the kids”— by which he meant Lily — come to his new place, where he lived with Dingbat (as she was known in their house), but that his mother would never go for that.
So imagine his surprise when Jonas saw his father and his girlfriend on the platform of the Fifty-ninth Street subway station, walking right toward him. It was so sudden, so out of the blue, that Jonas forgot his mission to find the “hippie” girl. He forgot Nick was right beside him. He momentarily forgot how to breathe.
Jonas saw his father immediately, but it was Lorraine who called out to him first.
“Jonas?”
He had met Lorraine only once before, the last time his father came by to visit Lily. His mother wasn’t home, and his dad and his girlfriend both came to the door. Lorraine introduced herself and then — apparently — waited out on the sidewalk, talking on her cell phone or playing on
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