Love Galore (Chaennie)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It all starts with Rosie ignoring one of Alice's cardinal rules.

"Don't make eye contact on the subway," Alice had told her. "Or the street. Or the store. Or, just, you know, anywhere."

After five years in the city and countless encounters with strange men asking Rosie for her money, time, phone number, and sometimes all three, one would think that Rosie has learned her lesson.

But on this wintry January Saturday, her mind awash in anxious waves as it obsessively replays and dissects the unpleasant call she had with Mark that morning, Rosie needs a distraction. So she allows herself to roam her eyes over her fellow passengers in the semi-crowded subway car, imagining their lives and stories to distract herself. The stocky, middle-aged man with his eyes closed is a construction worker who makes a 2-hour commute from New Jersey everyday. The young woman with pierced lip and oversized headphones lives with her parents and two siblings in a one-bedroom apartment and studies psychology at the city's university. The well-dressed man leaning against the subway doors works on Wall Street and goes up to his cabin in the Catskills on the weekends to perfect the art of whittling.

And a few feet away, that raven-haired woman standing in the middle of the subway car, gloved hand clinging on to the pole, she's-

The woman looks up, revealing a pale, pretty face, striking even with its clearly exhibited distress. The woman glances up at the display of subway stops above; then, almost unthinkingly, she looks around the subway car. Her eyes, shimmering from barely contained tears, meet Rosie's.

And Rosie's mind goes blank.

The raven-haired woman, embarrassed, quickly looks away. She lowers her head and takes in a sharp, shaky breath.

Rosie's making her way over before she even has time to think about what she's doing, weaving her way through the few straphangers between them. She comes to a stop when she grabs a hold of the same pole the woman is using.

The raven-haired woman looks up again, and looks appropriately confused at the approach.

Rosie tries to think of something to open with. It has to be a good one.

"Would you like a donut?"

The woman's look of confusion morphs into alarm. As it should when one is randomly offered food on the subway by a complete stranger who's been staring at you.

And really, the only appropriate response is: "What?"

"A donut." Rosie digs into her tote bag and produces a grease-stained white paper bag. The woman eyes her carefully as she does. "There's this place in Greenpoint that makes the best red velvet donuts. Would you like one?" Evidently red velvet donuts are not sufficiently enticing, because the raven-haired woman looks no less alarmed. So Rosie tries something else. "I also have cannolis from Veniero's. Do you want one?"

Again, the only appropriate response: "What?"

"I also have mini pies. Pumpkin? Blueberry?"

"I..." The woman draws her own conclusion on what Rosie's trying to do. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have any cash on me."

It takes a moment for Rosie to catch on, and when she does, she barks out a laugh. "Oh, no! I'm not selling anything. I'm just offering."

It's not possible for anyone to look as confused as this woman does. "But why?"

Rosie shrugs lightly. "You look like you could use it." The train is slowing as it pulls into the 42nd Street station. Rosie glances at the display above to confirm the stop, then holds out the white bag. "This is my stop. Here, take the donuts. They're really good. They'll make you feel better. I promise."