Mind the Gap | ✔️

April 24 @ 9:33 A.M.: Evan

My fingers kept moving over the beanie that covered my head. What a smooth accessory it was, indeed—laid-back, stylish, and fitting my new image as an insurance company employee.

And it protected me against the chilly drafts haunting the train I sat in.

More than three weeks into my new job, I had successfully resisted its tug of uniformity, its call of the suit and tie. Instead, I had opted for a hipsterish outfit—corduroy pants, colored shirts, a groomed beard, an arctic-proof coat, and the beanie. 

So far, no one at the insurance company had complained. Apparently, being a mathematician meant you could enjoy some leeway when it came to a dress code.

Corporate life wasn't so bad, after all.

And from the company's building, I could even see the halls of Suffolk University.

Looking down on them from my office on the 12th floor.

I was someone now. Someone who mattered, someone important. Someone doing important business work.

Even Helen had realized this. The other weekend, when I brought Janice back to her, she had even complimented me on my new looks, which she had never done before.

Janice would be spending this whole Sunday with me, and I wanted to treat my daughter to something special this time. To show her the new cool-dad version I was now.

Before my mind could come up with a venue worthy of my daughter, a faint, pleasant scent of lavender distracted me. 

It came from a woman on the seat opposite mine. She was reading a paperback, Chasing New Horizons: Inside the Epic First Mission to Pluto. Its cover depicted a planet in colors of burgundy and vanilla. I wondered if the book was science fiction or non-fiction.

Chasing New Horizons. That title suited me. And the sky was the limit. No, not the sky—the very edge of the solar system.

The woman was wearing liberal amounts of makeup, which made her age a bit hard to guess. Her mousy hair held no signs of gray. I'd call her kind of pretty, and the nerdy book she was reading certainly piqued my interest.

Should I ask her what the book was about?

I had not dated a woman since my divorce. Except for the one on the other train, the one with the braces and the ever changing hair color. Well, I had not really dated her either, not in that sense of the word. Still, it felt like that. The occasional window meetings we had had—each one of them had struck me somewhere deep.

But she was merely a mirage. Nothing but a figment of my imagination. I should forget about her and concentrate on real life. 

On real women like the one sitting on the seat opposite mine.

I should ask her about that book.

Well, I would ask her right after Charles/MGH—our train was entering the station right now.

I would give Braces one more chance. But if she didn't turn up during our stop, I'd make first contact with the planet book lady.

Perhaps it was time to get back onto the market.

Our train stopped; the track next to us was empty.

The planet book lady licked a finger and turned a page. Was there a hint of a faint smile on her lips? If she was in a good mood, getting acquainted would go smoother.

She looked up, her gaze meeting mine—blue eyes.

I quickly looked out of the window, just in time to see a train rolling in next to us.

Was the planet book lady still watching me?

My gaze tracked the incoming red-line cars, one by one. When they finally came to a halt, I checked out the passengers in the window next to us, looking for a wild mane of dyed hair.

A woman sat where she usually sat, but that one wore a bluish cap. It hogged her head tightly, not even revealing a single coloured strand. It might be her, but without the hair, it was hard to say. Did she use to have such a knobbly nose? I did not remember.

She wore a black t-shirt depicting a puppy-eyed seal creature, peppered with the text I'm not like the Otters.

Otters! I could take Janice to the zoo. My daughter was a huge animal lover after all.

The not-like-the-otters woman yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth in the slightest, and displayed a set of white teeth tamed with braces.

It was her, there was now no doubt about it!

She did not look at me but at the lap of the guy sitting next to her.

The pull of my jacket's zipper held a small, high-powered flashlight. It was a gift from Carl. I reached for it, switched it on, and pointed its mighty beam at Braces, shamelessly fishing for her attention.

The light caressed her chest, a place of ample bosom, giving a twinkle to the metal necklace pendant sitting there. Then it moved up to her cheek and into her eyes.

She blinked and squinted at me.

Then her face lit up with a grin, as she recognised me, and she scooted closer to the window with enthusiasm.

Yes, Braces had a knobbly nose. And dimples. Dimples were so hard to resist.

Two thick cords hung from her beanie, a cute substitute for hair. I wondered what color her strands had today.

She waved at me. I waved back, and then I remembered. The day when I last had seen her—the day when I had first visited Dunkin Donuts—I had created a document on my tablet, while I had been sitting in the park. The document contained my phone number in it, in big digits.

I gestured her to wait and logged into the iPad on my lap.

What text editor had I used? Was it Microsoft Word? 

No! Pages! Quickly, I brought it up and browsed through my documents.

Where was the damn thing?

"Please stand back!" The loudspeaker voice announced the closing of doors. We'd be leaving any second now, but the frigging document with my frigging phone number was nowhere to be found.

My fingers shook as I created a new one and entered the number once again. I selected the text and zoomed it up to make it fill the screen.

Was Braces still looking at me? Yes, and she was holding up her left hand now, its back facing me, and pointing at it with her right one.

Something sparkled on her finger—a gigantic, shiny gem.

She nodded at it, mouthing words I didn't hear.

Was this what I thought it was? An engagement ring?

She grinned happily, digging deep dimples into her cheeks.

I forced a smile to my lips as well and held up a thumb, not wanting to spoil her moment.

As if in confirmation of my suspicions, the guy at her side closed in on her. A blond, muscular gorilla with a chiseled jawline and a receding forehead, he said something to her. Braces fingered her necklace and replied.

He pulled her lips against his and kissed her.

A gorilla named Mister Chiseled Jaws making out with a cute otter.

Like at a zoo.

With a soft clang of metal, our train began to move. Her hand was ruffling his hair as they glided out of my view.

The string of numbers on my tablet mocked me.

I erased it, took a deep breath, and looked ahead, at the planet book woman. As if sensing my attention, she moved her gaze away from the page she was reading, locking eyes with me.

It was time to forget about the girl with the braces.