One Under

Dear guy-who-was-sitting-opposite-me-on-the-tube-that-day,

       I remember I wasn't sure whether you'd half-acknowledged me with that smile because I’d stared at you for too long before you sat down or whether it had actually been one of those "hey, do I know you?" looks. I thought I recognised you from somewhere but I couldn't exactly double-check in case yours had simply been that smug smile of the consciously good looking. I remember all these crazy things going on inside my head, like maybe you’d found me attractive too, and this was that romantic moment I'd been waiting for. Maybe you'd seen that we were both reading The Great Gatsby and we'd just shared an intimate, kindred spirits kind-of-smile. Which, typical of me, I had missed. There I was sitting in that stuffy carriage gazing at that strawberry web of pink bubbalicious stuck between the doors and The Most Romantic Moment of my Life had come and gone! 

In reality though, you wouldn't have noticed that we were reading the same book because yours was some ancient second-hand copy that hipsters like you carry around and I was reading mine on my Kindle. It's weird; I don't even remember the smile now, but I obsessed over it for the next 6 stops. I wondered whether I'd gone to school with you because you sort of looked like one of those indie guys who used to sit and smoke on the steps outside the art rooms at lunch… but that might just have been because you had that dark, carefully tousled hair consistent with that type. Maybe you'd served me in the cinema once and you were smiling because I was the girl who couldn't choose and so ordered a large popcorn AND ice cream. Or perhaps you worked in my local independent bookstore and had always admired me from afar for my good looks and impeccable taste in Russian literature…I remember fixing my head straight at the man in the heavy overcoat next to you so I could peer at you without directly looking and then stopping quickly as he started smiling back at me.

When the train stopped so suddenly I remember you rolled your eyes at me as if to say "Great. Now we're both going to be late" but I didn't mind, because I'd pretty much idealised myself into being in love with you by that point. When the lights shut off and the engine stopped, the suited collective sighed and closed their newspapers, and you alone kept reading. I remember you then, once that anxious muttering started up, your head lifted from your book, half biting your bottom lip as though you were silently musing on something when the voice buzzed over the intercom and the lights flickered back on.

There will be a delay to your service. We anticipate that service will resume sometime within the next 20 minutes. London Underground wishes to apologise for any inconvenience that this may cause to your journey.

I remember that through the rise of general indignant tutting, your face looked slightly relieved and I wondered if you now felt silly because, like mine, your mind had jumped to terrorism and you were silently apologising for thinking awful things about that harmless businessman sitting three seats along from you. Maybe you were musing on how the media had made us so paranoid that we jumped to racial prejudices before considering a simple signaling problem. I wanted to say something to you then but I still wasn't sure if I knew you from somewhere.

We're sorry for the inconvenience: there will be severe delays on this Jubilee line service. A person has gone under the train.

The intercom’s crackle was met with a silence the carriage hadn't yet seen. Intermingled shock and horror clouded your eyes. As the suited collective gathered its breath there was a moment of recovery giving way to a few tuts and muttered "selfishness" from several people whose empathy had already been devoured by impatience. I remember forgetting not to look at you and how our eyes met in a frisson of empathy for that person, and the driver, and the innumerable lives that had been forever altered by our train journey. I remember that soul-wrenching need for comfort that I felt and how your eyes delivered me through that moment until we got off at Euston and you slowly sped away from me, wordless.

I just wanted to thank you, I guess.

Yours.