The Blue Line

"You're stalking me, aren't you?"1

That was the first full sentence she ever said to me. Before that significant event, it had only been nods and murmurs. But this sentence, it was clear and strong, and it wanted an answer.2

"Well, I... um...," was all I managed to muster.3

I couldn't lie to her, for what I had been doing was something very similar to stalking. I wouldn't use such a harsh term though. It was merely... affectionately following. I had never done it to anyone else. There was just something about her... something that intrigued me. In this following, I meant her no harm or distress, and at the time of this question, she knew that. I think she just wanted to make conversation.4

We both took the subway to work each morning, the Blue Line. For some reason we both always sat on the third car, so we saw each other every day. And from afar, I fell in love with her. I fell in love with the way she looked, her dark chestnut colored hair, her shining blue eyes, her visibly soft lips, and her thin angled body. I fell in love with the way she sat staring out the window into the darkness as if she could see something. The way she observed the people around her, always giving money to any sort of beggar or offering her seat to anyone who came near her. Even the way she walked off the subway with that little skip in her step. I was infatuated, and I had never even talked to her.5

"You... um, what?" she asked with a slightly playful undertone in her voice.6

"I... uh... well, you know." I must have sounded like an idiot.7

"Yes?"8

"Uh... no—"9

"So you weren't? Yes?"10

"No... I—"11

"So you were? No?"12

"I–I... Wait! What are we talking about?"13

She laughed; a giggly schoolgirl kind of laugh. I couldn't help but smile and laugh along with her. She started gasping and doubled over laughing, placing a hand on my back to hold herself up. I stiffened at her touch, and she righted herself, panting slightly and still smiling. I didn't see what was so funny.14

"You totally fell for that," she said once she had gained her breath back, "but in all seriousness... are you stalking me? I just want to know. It's sort of flattering in a way." She smiled again, displaying her pearly whites.15

"Well, uh... you see—"16

"Can you say at least one sentence without the words uh, um, or well?" she cut in, adjusting her glasses on her nose.17

"If you can stop interrupting me," I retorted.18

She smiled. "That's more like it."19

"I'm Max," I said, offering my hand.20

She took it and shook it with vigor. "Nice to finally speak to you Max. I've been watching you watch me for a while now. Why didn't you talk to me earlier?"21

"I haven't been watching you!"22

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Well... actually I'm Clarissa."23

"Clarissa," I said, tasting her name on my tongue.24

"Yes," she replied, raising her eyebrows slightly, "That's my name, don't wear it out."25

"I won't," I said, smiling back.26

"Somehow I doubt that," she said with a wink, as the train started to slow down. "This is my stop— but I suppose you already know that."27

"Bye," I said, ignoring her comment.28

"See you tomorrow," she replied, and then she was gone into the sea of people on their way to work or some other destination.29

I sighed as the doors shut in front of me. My stop was next so I didn't bother sitting down. I should have though, because my legs felt like jelly. Our brief conversation had only deepened my devotion.30

So it went on like this. We talked every day on our way to work about anything and everything: our families, friends, work; what we had done that past weekend, even our love lives. I learned about her best friend Yvonne, her sister Bethany; how she disliked being called Clara; the girls she hated in high school because they had made fun of her; her horrible boss Henry; her favorite food: peach cobbler; her pets —a snake, Ralphie, and a cat, Gina— and unfortunately, her boyfriend at the time, Tim.31

Then, there came a day when there was silence between us. I could tell something was very wrong. She looked distressed, and kept turning to me like she needed to say something, but then turning away again, mumbling about something or other.32

"Clarissa?" I addressed her gently. "Is something wrong?"33

She looked over to me; her eyes filled with such sorrow and confusion that it almost made me feel physically sick. She opened her mouth, shut it again, and then nodded.34

"What is it?"35

"It's Tim," she finally got out after another moment of silence.36

"Tim?"37

"He's cheating on me—"38

"What?!?" I burst in, outraged.39

She put up her hand to silence me. "I confronted him about it last night and... and..."40

Unable to continue, she burst into tears. I had never seen her cry— she had always been either very happy or slightly moody when she talked to me, so it caught me off guard. I didn't know what to do, so in the end I hugged her, holding her close to me. I felt a bit awkward, but physically, she felt so right. The people riding on the subway were staring at us, but I ignored them and focused only on comforting her.41

She detached herself from me, and turned from me, sniffling, "But that's not all... There's something else."42

"What else?" I asked, starting to worry.43

"Max... I've always told myself that if anyone did this to me the first thing I'd do would be to leave them... But... I feel so stuck..." The river of tears continued to flow.44

"What is it Clarissa? What else did he do to you?"45

She shook her head, unable, for the moment, to speak. I took out a pack of tissues and offered her one, unsure of what to do next. Still sniffling she took it gratefully and quickly wiped her eyes smudging off the unusually large amount of make-up that she had on, and revealing what it had been hiding.46

"Clarissa!" I exclaimed, unsuccessfully trying to keep my temper as I stared at the discoloring bruise that framed her eye, "Did he do this to you?"47

Slowly, tentatively, she nodded.48

I could see she was trying hard to hold back another flood of tears. I turned away from her, feeling helpless. I was far past angry. This man, whom I didn't even know, was beating this poor innocent girl because she had discovered he was cheating on her— and still she didn't want to break up with him!49

"What are you thinking?" I burst out. "Drop the bastard!"50

"You don't understand," she cried back at me.51

"I understand enough to know this guy is an abusive asshole!"52

"That's not all of it," she said, tearing up again. "You don't know the whole story."53

"So you still want to be with this guy?" I said. "After all that he has done to you."54

She looked me straight on, staring at me in challenge. I stared back, unrelenting. She was the first to avert her eyes. We stood in silence until her stop came around. She stepped off the train without another word and without a skip in her step.55

She didn't appear on the Blue Line the following day. I even poked my head out the door to see if maybe she was just avoiding me and taking another car, but she wasn't there. She was nowhere to be found, and despite how much we had talked over the last couple of months, neither of us had ever thought of asking the other for their cell number, so I had no way of contacting her. All I could do was worry. I worried through work, I worried all night after work, I worried the next morning, and I worried as I waited for her on the subway the next day.56

I waited as long as I could before deciding to get on the Blue Line. I told myself she was probably already there waiting for me and that it was stupid for me to wait for her on the platform; right before I was about to swipe my card and go through to the subway, though, I felt the need to turn— to look one more time.57

And there she was, running toward me, struggling to run in her high heels. She was waving wildly and... smiling.58

"Max!" she called, once she was within a reasonable distance, "Wait!!!"59

"Clarissa," I said happily, "Where were you yesterday?" I glanced towards the sliding doors of the car. "Come quickly, we'll miss the train!"60

"No," she said, grabbing my hand, "Come with me. I need your help with something."61

"But... what about work?" I questioned as she pulled me away.62

"Screw work."63

I couldn't argue with that logic so I went along with her, though I had no idea where we were going. She dragged me through the streets, not bothering to take a car or taxi or anything. She apparently knew exactly where we were, but I had no idea. Upon arriving at an apartment complex, she pulled me aside.64

"I want you to buzz the fifth buzzer and tell whomever answers that you're the pizza man, Okay?65

"The pizza man? Why?"66

"Just do it Max," she replied, pushing me toward the door, "Please? For me?"67

I sighed and walked up to the door. She seemed to have a reason for this so I would play along. I ran to the doorbell and told the man who answered that I was the pizza man. Not surprisingly, he was confused, saying he didn't remember ordering pizza but he buzzed the door open anyway. I walked inside and Clarissa slipped in behind me.68

There was no elevator, so we walked up the stairs to the fifth floor. When we eventually reached it, Clarissa stalked over to a door half way down the dim corridor. She lifted her hand toward the doorbell, only pausing for a second, her hand quivering, before decisively pressing down on the polished black button.69

We waited silently for the door to open. I could see her, shivering lightly with pent up emotion. She looked about ready to burst, into anger or tears, I did not know. I stared down at the door in front of me. There was no doubt in my mind that it was Tim's, which only made me worry. What was I supposed to do if he answered the door? Talk to him? Yell at him? ...Punch him?70

I heard footsteps behind the door and the jangling of locks being undone. I drew in a deep breath, preparing myself for the inevitable encounter with the mysterious and aggressive man Tim— but my jaw dropped when the door was opened by a scantily clad woman. 71

"Well... hello," she said softly, eyeing me up and down. She casually dropped a hand to her thigh and twisted the hem of her silk nightgown around her fingers to reveal a little more of a long, smooth leg. She moved a bit closer to me; I took a step backward, bumping into Clarissa. This woman was definitely the kind who would attempt to seduce an innocent pizza man. 72

Before I could respond, Clarissa roughly pushed between us and disappeared into the apartment. The other woman shrugged off this sudden appearance with indifference before returning her attention to me.73

"So... I suppose you're not the pizza man," she said, sidling up to me.74

"No..." I responded absently, paying closer attention to the yelling voices of Clarissa and Tim in the background and resisting the urge to go in there and punch that man in the face.75

"Good," she continued, unaware of my preoccupation, "I'm getting sick of teenagers on minimum wage."76

I took another step back from her, shaking my head, "Not interested... And what makes you think I'm not a teenager and that I don't make more than minimum wage?"77

She glared at me reproachfully then turned away, just as Clarissa reappeared carrying a cardboard box. She smiled bravely at me, but I could see she was hurting.78

"Keep the nightgown..." she called loudly into the apartment before shutting the door, "Someone else may need it."79

"Do you want me to go in there and teach him what's what?" I asked her, taking the box from her. It was heavy with her things.80

She smiled and shook her head as she led the way to the stairs. We left the building in silence, but once it was out of sight she burst into tears, holding her arms out to me. Dropping her box, I allowed her to embrace me, burying her face into my chest. I awkwardly hugged her for the second time in three days, but this time at her initiation.81

"...I thought I loved him." She sobbed into my shirt. "But I guess I have no idea what love is."82

I gently lifted her head with my hand and looked into her eyes, "Love is a mutual thing, Clarissa. Nothing good comes from a relationship when it's not. You did the right thing back there."83

"I hope so..." she said, leaning into me, her lips quivering.84

Nervously I released our embrace and stammered, "S...so you'll be okay?"85

She leaned over and grabbed her box, uncomfortably aware of what was developing between us. "Yes, I'll be fine."86

"Good."87

"So... are you going back to work now?" she asked.88

"Well... I don't know. It's a bit late for that now."89

"Yeah, I guess you're right."90

"Do you want to come grab something to eat then?" I asked avoiding eye contact.91

"...Are you asking me out, Max?" she asked coyly, sounding, once again, like her normal, teasing self.92

"Are you accepting?" I said with a smile.93

"Of course!" she replied, hooking her arm into mine and dragging me once again down the street.94

That damn girl can change her mood easier than I can change my shirt...95

**********96

The first time she kissed me was on the Blue Line on our usual route to work. The whole car started clapping. Most of the passengers were like us and took the Blue Line, third car, every day – so they had obviously been anticipating this. She just smiled, bowing graciously, while I turned bright red. 97

About three months after that we moved in together. Everything was perfect.98

**********99

"I'm going riding now," she called out to me, "Wanna come?"100

Clarissa loved riding her bike. She did it for exercise and enjoyment. Sometimes I went with her, but being the less experienced biker, I often held back.101

"I'm fine," I replied, looking up from the mound of papers at my desk, "I've got a bunch of work to do."102

She made her way over to me and kissed me tenderly on the head, "Okay love. See you when I get back."103

"We'll go out tonight, that okay?" I asked her on an impulse.104

"Sure thing," she replied happily. "I'll be back in an hour or so."105

"Okay, I'll be waiting."106

"I know." I could hear the smile in her voice as she walked out the door.107

I had bought her a ring, you see— an engagement ring. I had been waiting for the right time to give it to her; I wanted it to be the perfect moment... something both of us would remember for the rest of our—"108

Max stopped, unable to continue his account. Every single person in the room was in tears, and he knew his own eyes had flooded over early into the recounting of his story. He stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little box; opening it, he revealed the glittering diamond within it.109

"This," he began, chocking back a sob, "will always be hers. Just like my love... and my heart."110

He walked over to the casket and gently, carefully slid the ring onto her cold finger, replacing her hand carefully back upon her chest. Hot tears slid down his cheeks as he looked upon her face— amazingly unmarred by the accident. It's beautiful, but dead perfection seemed to mock him.111

"Clarissa..." he whispered softly, "You know I'll always be waiting..."112

Then unable to take anymore he stood up and left the room. He walked out of the funeral home and down the street until he found a subway. Swiping his card, he walked over to the Blue Line and got into the third car. Even though the car was nearly empty, he didn't sit. He stood where they had always stood together, and waited. 113

Waited for her to come to him...114

Knowing she never would. 115