Friday nights in Philadelphia were always fun. In summer, the lights of the city glowed so that the streets were bathed in an artificial haze. Beneath such a light, one girl sat in a humming crowd of friends, with a mirror in hand. Zoe gazed back at herself as she idly twisted the diamond earring that contrasted brilliantly with her dark skin. Her ruby-painted lips twisted into a smirk as she angled the mirror so that her eyes could travel down her neck to the little-more-than-modest cleavage that swelled over the edge of her white bodice.
"When will the train get here?" she asked no one in particular.
Voices answered, "4 minutes," and she snapped the pocket mirror shut and dropped it in her purse.
Zoe told them that she did not know if she wanted to go to a gathering at Paul's house and she might just take the train home but she could not make up her mind. Meanwhile, she joined in the conversation about music, new stores in the city, what people would do for the Fourth. She laughed and her friends laughed with her. They huddled close until 4 minutes were up and the R3 rolled up right on time. This time of night few people were usually on the train and this night was no different. Each friend took a seat of their own. Zoe took a friend by the arm and pulled them to the part of the train where two seats were isolated by steel walls but one of the seats were taken.
Zoe stopped and stared down at the white boy slumped in the seat. He was already looking at her when she realized he was there. His face was stern somehow and he seemed older though he seemed young. Her friend noticed her serious expression and peaked around the corner to see what Zoe was looking at.
"Hello," chirped the other girl.
The late night conductor yelled out, "Have a seat! We're moving!"
The girls obeyed and dropped into the seat in the small nook. The stranger did not seem pleased but Zoe took no notice of this. Instead, not to be putdown by her companion, she turned on her most cheerful and inviting voice and locked gazes with him, "Hi, there! How are you?"
"I'm fine," the man said simply.
"Do you work in the city? Maybe a restaurant... You're wearing all black."
He lifted his chin in acknowledgment of her guess but he did not give anything away. It was a distinct chin and jaw, she thought. He was one of those guys that were attractive but not particularly good looking. Zoe decided it was probably just the cloud of mystery surrounding him.
Zoe made a few more attempts to start a conversation with the stranger. He replied but he was so cool about it. He didn't eye her breasts and he didn't stare at her eyes and lips with appreciation. He did not lean closer with burning interest and his answers were so vague that she quit asking questions and had begun just talking about her night with her friend. He yawned in the middle of the best part and she pinched her friend's arm. They always pinched or nudged each other when a situation was beyond belief. Her friend lightly laughed and said, "Are you going with us to Paul or what?"
Zoe pulled her black gaze away from the stranger to her friend. She started to say yes but said instead, "Actually, I'll just ride on. I should go home. Such a long week." She reached up and began twisting the diamond earring again. "I'm just tired and I'd like to go to yoga in the morning. Maybe we could meet for brunch on Sunday and go to that new place that you mentioned."
At the next stop, Zoe grabbed her little purse and got up from her seat. She left the nook but the stranger said nothing, which irritated her. She said good bye to her friends and waved through a window when the train was pulling away. She dropped into the seat in the main cabin of the train and picked at a barely noticeable stain on her white jeans.
That man was somewhere back there in the nook. Should she go back and try to talk? He had been so rude and uninterested... Who was she fooling? Zoe was vexed. He acted as if he barely noticed her. That is, he acted as if he barely noticed HER. She yanked the small mirror out of her bag and gazed at herself. Same dark face, even skin, pouty ruby lips, luscious black lashes. She revisited some of the phrases she'd said. "Maybe a restaurant," she whispered to the mirror, half smiling. "You're wearing all black." She paused for a moment wondering if she sounded stupid. But what else should she say! What else did she need to say?
Zoe threw the mirror back into her purse and almost got up to go back there and demand his attention but a more interesting plan was brewing in her mind. Maybe she should just... It was a bad idea. But it was a great idea too. Just think of the stories she could tell people! Everyone would find it highly amusing that she followed a strange man off a train. Like a people watching story. Ultimate people watching, she told herself.
At the next stop, the stranger passed by her and got off the train. Zoe followed him with her eyes, watched him step off the train and walk out across the street. But she didn't follow.
That night she lay in bed, unable to sleep. So many thoughts raced through her mind and the stranger on the train stared at her from the edge of her anxieties, perpetuating her uncertainties. His presence in her mind and infernal lack of interest goaded her as it had on the train. She had always been able to command the attention of others but that man on the train did not respond. Why? Her fingers trailed over her face, down her neck, cupped her breasts and squeezed. The warm flesh filled her hands. They were just a C cup, so full but not large. She worked out, ate well! But what if it wasn't enough?
Was she getting old? Zoe resisted the urge to bolt out of bed and look in a mirror. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the doubts, suppressing the lingering image of the stranger, and eventually falling asleep.
When she awoke, the sun was up and had already burned away the dewiness of early morning. Zoe stared back at the source of light defiantly, letting the indirect but bright rays sting her eyes. After a few moments, Zoe got out of bed and began her Saturday.
It was a good weekend and Zoe stopped worrying about the stranger. The encounter had been a little unsettling and wounded her vanity but her desirability had been validated Saturday night by an attractive friend, the same Paul she had blown off Friday night.
By Monday, Zoe was healed, restored to her usual self and ready for a busy week of work, social gatherings, and appointments. On Thursday, Paul invited her to lunch at a trendy little cafe and that is where she saw him again.
He did work in a restaurant, as she suspected. From the look of it, he played multiple roles in the place and there was a small staff. When she and Paul had come through the door, he was the one to greet them. But did he recognize her? She sighed, wanting to roll her eyes, when she realized that he probably hadn't.
He sat them at a table tucked into a corner with a long window. She stared down at her hands unfolding the napkin and placing it in her lap, "Water with lemon, please," but she did not look up at him. She would be just as cool and remote.
"Rob told me a water with lemon and a glass of house wine!" A girl placed the drinks on the table with flourish. She was perky, redheaded, and introduced herself as Annie. "Have you had lunch with us before?" Zoe resisted the urge to groan. Her smile felt brittle and she feigned interest in the menu, had what Paul was having, and began scanning the place for "Rob."
She spotted him at the door greeting an Asian couple, back and forth through the kitchen door, taking an order for a young man at the bar.
Lunch was delicious. Rob was delicious. He had made eye contact with her once but he never smiled over at her the way he had smiled at other customers. Why should she be treated without courtesy and appreciation?
