He looks a little ignorant. I did not mean to stare at him the whole way, but there is just something about him that intrigues me to just…stare.
I, we, have been stuck in the subway for as long as I can remember. He got in first because when the train stopped at my station, he was already there. After three stations have passed, he is still in the same position when I got in. He is so fixated on what’s in the book which does not bother to be lifted up to his face, instead, he bows slightly to read it. The book is placed in between his legs.
I am so interested to know what he is listening to because if you look at his frown, maybe it is something like a complicated music or maybe it is because of the book. I don’t know. He never looks up to catch my gaze, or anything around him really. He is kind of cute in this sad dim light under the tunnel. I am guessing, he is an artist or writer. I think I am guessing too much. I can just walk up to him and ask. The seat beside him is roomy enough for me to cramp in.
My eyes are heavy now. I think all of today’s caffeine intake has long flushed away from peeing every 30 minutes. I stayed too long in the office and it is already 9 pm. I should have been asleep by now. Maybe I can close my eyes for 15 minutes. Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.
I feel movements from beside me. I open my eyes in a panic thinking I might have missed my stop. But I apparently, woke up just in time. So I gather all my things and run out of the train right before the door closes. Oh, is this his stop too? I turn myself around and look back through the window and see nobody there. Probably he got off long before me.
There is a little bit of sadness not knowing where he lives. Not specifically where just knowing what station he gets off is probably enough information for me.
So I walk down the same street I have always been passing every day for the last two years since I moved to New York from Vermont. My apartment is not a fancy one, but it is comfortable enough. I have a roommate and luckily she is my college best friend. She is taking her master degree in business at NYU. She convinced me to pursue my music career since I live in the Big Apple now or at least continue my master degree in Performing Arts. I have thought of that several times, but my parents have enough things on their plate already. I have two brothers who are currently still at school and an older sister that is selfish enough to walk away from the family to marry his drug addict jackass and move to India to sell joints.
So, my 4.0 GPA in Business is working pretty well. I work in a big IT company, it is quite famous worldwide, as a Business Analyst. I was scared at first, what if I am not actually qualified for this kind of job? But, my boss seems very pleased with my work.
“I’m home,” I say when I open the front door.
Katie’s half body shows up from the bedroom door, “hey, you hungry?’ she asks.
“Very,” I put my purse on the kitchen table. The apartment does not have that many doors if you walk straight right in from the door it will lead you directly to the kitchen, dining room, and living room in one open big space. If you walk 20 steps forward, you’ll find a glass door facing the balcony and it has two chairs and round coffee table, spacy enough for me and Katie to enjoy tea time while looking down from the level 15th.
“I ordered us pizza, but because you forgot to call me you’d be late again,” Katie walked out of the bedroom still in her workout clothes that wrinkles here an there from doing Yoga too hard. “I ate up leaving you two slices in the microwave.” she opens up the microwave and pushes a cardboard plate with two huge slices of pizza.
I take one and the pizza is still warm. Katie pours me a glass of milk and serves herself one too. “You have been working so hard these days,” Katie says sitting beside me. “It is still not too late to sign up for the NYU’s summer admission.”
I sigh. “Katie, please…” I say in between chewing my pizza. “You can stop talking me into it every now and then. Don’t you think I am too old for that stuff?” I finish my first slice and onto the last. I am already full, but wishing Katie would leave me three slices instead of two.
“You’re only 23, Rose. Nothing is too old for you yet.”
I glare sharply at her calling me that name. My name is Rosalie, but I hate it when people call me Rose because people assume that I love flowers which I don’t. Anyway, it sounds so classic and too girly. So I always introduce myself as Alie.
“I won’t be graduating until at least next year, I won’t leave you until yours comes.” she puts her empty glass to the sink and enters the bathroom.
It is like she can read my mind. I am too scared living in a big city by myself. Katie is always looking after me. She is like an older sister to me more than my own sister. I was an odd kid back when I was in college. Scared of making new friends, so I instantly tailing on Katie when she was the only person who invited me to her birthday lunch.
I don’t hate my job, it pays me good money. But I know that I am not happy with my life right now. Should I really consider signing up for school? Will my parents support me, both financially and mentally?
I just hate uncertainties and unpredictabilities.
I hate possibilities and opportunities.
Because they always haunt me with ‘what if’ questions.