"On the Train Home"
Excerpted from:
NIGHT INTO DAY
a novel by Ryan Lewis Merritt
The F train back to Forest Hills was full, and Dean followed Melissa back into a corner, where they turned and faced each other, hanging onto the overhead bar. As the swell of passengers pushed them closer together, the train lurched into motion, its momentum sending Melissa’s body pressing lightly into Dean’s.
Their faces were a few inches apart, and he could feel her breath hitting his neck. He snuck a glance at her as he looked down the packed interior of the train. She was still wearing her sunglasses, and they were dark enough that he couldn’t tell if she was looking at him or not. He turned his attention back toward the window, watching the multi-colored blur of the station walls as they raced past.
As the train slowed and stopped and the groups of passengers shifted, a space cleared around them, blocks of seats emptying, but neither of them moved. He watched her as she turned her head, looking back through the car. His eyes moved down to the pendant that hung from a thin gold chain, a gold-wreathed chunk of amethyst that stood stark against the paleness of her breastbone.
Watching her, her face turned away, her eyes hidden, seeing the smooth line of her jaw, her downturned mouth, everything that was so familiar now, it had suddenly seemed like months, these past several days, as if his recent past had opened up and this time had extended back to replace it. Suddenly, he found himself on a different track, looking back, looking over at the blind path he had been on. He had shifted without knowing it.
Suddenly, he reached his free hand up and took hold of the pendant, watching to see her reaction. She didn’t move. Her face was calm, casually trusting, as if it were her own hand lying against her skin. Her chest pressed lightly against his hand as she breathed, slow and even.
He let go of the pendant and watched it tumble gently back into the pale shadow between her breasts as he slid his hand up along the chain to her neck, his knuckles sliding over her skin. He felt the rapid press of her pulse against the back of his hand, and suddenly, her head turned, as if she had been woken up, and she seemed to be watching him through the dark shield of her sunglasses.
The train stopped and the few remaining passengers hurried out. A few more came in, moving down toward the other end. Dean and Melissa were alone, still standing, still leaning close to each other as if the train were still full, empty seats all around them.
The car went dark for a few seconds as they passed into a tunnel and when the lights flickered back on Melissa’s sunglasses were lowered to the bridge of her nose, her gray eyes pinned on him, a thin smile blooming below the oversized lenses. She stared at him, blinking slowly, as if waiting for something – a move, a question, an answer. For the first time, he stared back. Her pulse beat against the back of his hand – he could feel it quickening. Finally, she slid the glasses back over her eyes and turned her head as the train braked and slowed, pulling into the Forest Hills station.