“The subway?” I vaguely remember Mom telling me not to go on it, yet I’ve only been in New York for three hours and it looks like I’ll be breaking that rule already. Besides, I’ve always secretly wanted to use it at least once in my life, just for the experience.
“Yeah, we’re catching the 6 train at Seventy-seventh Street,” he says. I don’t think he realizes that I have no idea what he’s talking about. “We’re heading downtown to Grand Central. You know what Grand Central Station is, right?”
“The really famous station?” I match my pace with his as I follow close by his side, though I’m paying more attention to my surroundings than I am to him.
“Yeah, that,” he says. “We’ll get you a MetroCard.”
“A what?”
He looks at me as he attempts to bite back another laugh. “God, you really are a tourist.”
We make a right onto Lexington Avenue, where the buildings seem dingier. They’re all a murky brown or red, and there’s the same amount of traffic as there is on Third Avenue, but it still manages to seem busier. We reach the station in five minutes, but I’m confused by which entrance to take, given there are eight of them: two on each corner. I turn to Tyler. “Why are there so many stairs?”
“These four are for uptown trains,” he explains, pointing to the four entrances on the east side of the street. He then nods at the entrances on the opposite side. “Those four are for downtown trains, which is where we’re going.”
When there’s a clearing in the traffic we almost jog across the street, and then Tyler nudges me toward the subway stairs. Looking down, it resembles nothing more than a crack den. I have a feeling that once we’re a couple flights down the daylight from outside won’t suffice, and the electric lighting seems minimal. I’ve watched enough horror movies to know that I’m more likely to die down there.
Pedestrians are nudging past us as they exit and enter the station, but I’m still apprehensive. Tyler’s arms are folded across his chest and he’s studying me.
“Do you do this a lot?” I ask.
“Pretty much every day,” he says. “Trust me, it’s safe.”
I still don’t move. I’d rather walk to Times Square, however many blocks away it is. I stare at Tyler’s jaw. “Aren’t there buses or something we can take instead?”
He rolls his eyes, turning up the sleeves of his denim shirt before he reaches for my hand. It’s so out of nowhere that I think my body stops functioning, even when Tyler starts yanking me down the stairs. “Little kids go on the subway, Eden, so I’m taking you on it. End of discussion,” he calls over his shoulder.
I don’t even reply. I can’t reply. It feels like I’m in middle school all over again and my eighth-grade crush has just held my hand for the first time. It’s such a simple gesture, but it feels so significant. His skin is warm and our fingers interlock and fit each other almost perfectly. It feels exactly like the way I remember it, and it also feels like I can’t breathe, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s touching me or if it’s because I’m underground. I try to convince myself that it’s the latter.
“See, it’s not that bad, right?” Tyler’s voice echoes in my ear, and his hand quickly disappears from mine. My senses come rushing back and I glance around, wondering how many flights of stairs he’s pulled me down and also wondering why there’s lighting down here, until my eyes finally settle back on his.
“Right,” I say, but my voice is almost a whisper. I’m such a kid. All he did was guide me down to a subway station. I glance down at his hands, which are now stuffed inside the front pockets of his pants, and he’s looking at me with a curious glint in his eyes. “So what’s a MetroCard?”
“The thing that’s gonna let you get through those.” He nods behind me to a row of turnstiles and it only occurs to me right then how loud everything is. I can hear a train arriving in the distance and it almost feels as though the ground is shaking, but it’s not. I think I can also hear a busker out on the platforms somewhere. “Over here.”
There are some machines lining a wall and I follow Tyler over to them, close behind, partly because I don’t feel safe and partly because I’m hoping he’ll grab my hand again. He doesn’t.
“Are you still freaking out?” he asks. He steals a glance at me from the corner of his eye as he taps at the screen, selecting options so fast that I struggle to keep up with what he’s doing.
“It’s making me feel a little claustrophobic,” I admit. My eyes drift around the station. I’m not sure how far down we are, but it feels like we’re trapped in the middle of nowhere, yet nobody else seems to have a care in the world. They’re definitely not tourists.