I stepped onto the subway with my tie loosened, my suit coat draped over one arm and my brief case in the other hand. I didn’t like the subway, and rarely rode it, but my car was in for some repairs. Whatever had possessed me to take the subway and not a taxi I’ll never know, but I boarded the beast anyway. I guess my concentration was on finding a seat and not ramming the corner of my brief case into the little, old, gray-haired lady’s leg while doing so, because it wasn’t until I sat down a few seats away from her – crammed my case into what ended up being the tightest spot possible – and laid my jacket on the seat next to me, that I was finally ready to view my surroundings.
Mostly the car was empty. The old lady was nearly asleep, her cane propped against her leg and a bag of groceries at her feet. Across the aisle from where I sat were two empty rows, and in the third was . . . Good Lord! It was Gretchen. I hadn’t seen her for years. She was with a man. He was talking on the cell phone and had turned in the seat until his back was slightly to her for some privacy, but it was still clear they were together.
I’d first casually glanced at her face, recognized her, glanced at him, then felt my gaze narrow in on her ring finger. Bare. No diamond to announce she was married to this guy, or any other guy for that matter. All of that had only taken a few seconds and then I found myself staring right at her face again.
She was looking at me, too. Probably had been the whole time, but now we shared direct eye contact. The corners of her lips lifted ever so slightly, and I felt it was more her way of telling me she acknowledged I was there, than to say she was glad to see me.
Was she glad to see me? Was I glad to see her? I really wasn’t sure. My heart was pounding wildly inside my chest. I felt both flush and pale; hot and cold. I felt like laughing and puking at the same time.
As I stared at her, and she at me, a flood of vivid memories and feelings overwhelmed me.
I’d met Gretchen on my twenty-second birthday. Prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on. I’d been out on the town with some friends that night. We’d been drinking, hanging out, celebrating my day. Around 11:30 p.m., on my way home, I’d stopped into a corner convenience store.
"Do you have any Tylenol?" I’d asked young woman at the register with slurred speech.
"Got a headache already?" she wondered, and sounded rather disgusted with me.
"No. But I anticipate one in the morning and I have to work. That’s why I am on my way home early. I hate when my birthday falls on a week day."
"You’re birthday, huh? Well . . ." she slapped down one of those little trial packs of Tylenol onto the counter. "Happy birthday. It’s on the house."
She wasn’t happy with me and that bugged me.
"I can pay for it."
"I’m sure you can, seeing that it only costs seventy-nine cents, but why don’t you just take it and go."
I stared at her for a moment and then read the name off of her name tag. "Gretchen."
She sighed as if she hadn’t wanted me to know her name and gave me an impatient look.
"Gretchen. Gretchen, your name is Gretchen." I informed her. Funny how that much liquor turns me into such an idiot, and at the time, I’m so proud of being one.
"It’s not my name. I’m just holding it for a friend."
"Really?" In my drunken stupor I kind of believed her. I really did. I was that drunk.
"Yup."
"Then what’s your real name?"
"I was born without one. Some people are born without a toe or a nose or something. Me, with no name. That’s why I have to borrow one."
