Sonder

"Bridget!" he said in an airy tone. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" she snapped. "You know how much I worry when you don't answer your phone."

"I didn't expect my lecture to go on for so long," he answered with a smile, walking Bridget down the corridor. "We were so engrossed that no one noticed I had almost taken up an extra hour."

Bridget took a few deep breaths to calm her fraught nerves. She wrapped her arm around Luke's and held on tightly.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. You know how much I love you, right?" she said, craning her neck up for a kiss. Luke lowered his smile to her lips and gave her a soft peck.

"How about I grab a change of clothes and meet you at Pierre's for lunch?" he said. "Or do you think something bad will happen to me on my way to the locker room?"

"Quit it, will you?" she yelled, blushing furiously. "See you in fifteen."

Bridget felt her worries dissipate when she walked out of the main building. Pierre's was a French bistro on the edge of the university campus. It's entire patronage consisted of students, faculty and other staff from the campus.

To her surprise, Luke had booked a table for them. The waiter showed her in and she waited patiently. Her eyes darted to the door and then to the other patrons.

The first time she saw Luke actually made her gasp aloud. He wore a suit and tie. His stride had an air of elegance, sophistication and yet, simplicity. Bridget quickly looked around to see how many eyeballs were on her boyfriend. He sat down opposite her.

"Before we order anything, we need to talk," she said in a small voice. It was something she was scared of, but had convinced herself to do. Luke leaned in and listened.

"Luke, I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. Actually, I'm sorry for all the times I've clung onto you too hard. The thing is, I love you, I really do. You're the first guy I met who could make me smile any time he wants. You put up with my neurotic whims and insecurities. I can't bear the thought of you leaving."

She took a deep breath and went on.

"But I can't bear the thought of you unhappy either. I know I'm not as pretty as some of the other girls you used to date, but I'm trying. I go to the gym whenever I get the chance, so I can look better beside you. You think I don't know what your family thinks of me. I do," Bridget went on. "Your mother doesn't think I'm mature enough and I heard your sisters talking at Thanksgiving about how you deserve better, and you do. I'm trying to be better for you, so that you won't stop loving me."

"What are you trying to say?" Luke asked, worry clouding his chiselled features.

"What I'm saying is..." she said, biting her lip. "Will you please let me down easily before you move on? That's all."

"You're beautiful, Bridget. I don't know why you don't see it, but you are."

She sniffled into her handkerchief. Luke signalled to the waiter to bring some champagne. Soon, there were two tall flutes on the table filled to the brim with bubbling champagne.

"Let's make a toast," he said, raising his glass. "To Bridget Klein, the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Flatterer," she smirked, clinking the flutes. She was about to take a sip from the champagne when she froze. Her eyes opened wide and her breathing began heavy and laboured. Every inch of her skin rippled and her heart rate went through the roof. Her mind boggled, staggering under the weight of what her disbelieving eyes saw.

At the bottom of her flute, clouded by the champagne it was immersed in, her eyes could make out the hazy outline of a ring.

Her head snapped up as she looked at Luke. He grinned broadly and rose from his seat. Time stood perfectly still while he stepped forward and got on one knee. He tried to say the words, but Bridget placed a finger on his lips and whispered. "Yes."

For the first time in her life, Bridget knew that everything was going to be all right.

* *

Tom Manney sat at his own table, sipping some coffee while browsing a research paper on his Kindle. The commotion across the bistro distracted him. He raised his weary eyes to see his lecturer kissing his girlfriend and everybody around them applauding.

"It's good to have someone who loves you," he thought with a smile as everyone else settled down. He continued doing some more research on his thesis, intermittently taking a sip of the steaming coffee. His mind remained completely dissociated from the chatter all around him. It was a skill that had served him well before -- the ability to be alone in a crowd.

He liked being alone. Solitude meant no distractions from his work. He could give his undivided attention to the problems at hand. Minutes ticked by in an invisible rhythm. He checked his watch, it was five. It was time for him to trudge back to his empty apartment.

Most thesis students only stayed as long as they were needed and continued their reference work from the comfort of their homes. Tom made it a point to stay till five every day. He had a good reason.

The subway station was barely two blocks from Pierre's. Tom walked briskly, acknowledging some of his fellow academics, whom he met along the way, with a perfunctory nod. He was sure that several of them wondered what exactly made him such an introvert. These thoughts mingled in his head until he found himself standing on the platform, waiting for the next train.

He checked his watch to confirm the time, then scanned to his left and right. The beauty of regular trains was that they essentially have the same group of people getting on every day. As expected, there were many students waiting to board, along with some office goers and a few non-regulars. Tom looked at the waiting throng, running his eyes over them individually. There was a rustle of clothes and hurried footsteps and he saw a girl stand a few feet to his left, just as the train drew up.

They doors opened and regurgitated a mass of humanity onto the platform. Tom waited patiently until the last of the exiting passengers had left before he took his favoured seat near the door. Regular subway travellers tend to be creatures of habit. They sit or stand at the same place. Sure enough, he saw the girl from before leaning against the metal wall and texting away furiously. He saw her every day, on every trip home.

The train lurched forward and began to move. Tom pretended to scratch his stubble, but continued staring in her direction. She had medium length black hair with an assortment of beads and clips clinging to them. Her lipstick and eyeliner were roughly the same shade of black and she wore a Harley Davidson jacket over her top. The gothic look was completed by a small piercing on the corner of her mouth.

The train picked up a steady speed and she stopped typing, instead pulling out her earphones and plugging them into her phone. Tom watched her head rock back and forth in beat with her music along with one foot tapping it out on the floor.

Looking at her on the way back was Tom's daily ritual. He was so engrossed in it that he casually put a few notes into an open hat for a subway guitarist as he went past, without even counting how much he gave. His eyes glazed over and all seemed right with the world, watching her snap her fingers in rhythm with her beat. She looked around and did a quick air-guitar solo thinking no one saw her. He loved it when she did that.

"Careful. You're one step away from being a stalker," he thought and chuckled inwardly. It was true. He didn't even know her name. Looking at her from his seat was the closest Tom got to her.

"I'll talk to her today."

Several days went with the same promise. Tom was sure it would be the day he finally introduced himself. He was on the verge of rising from his seat when his brain pushed him back down.

"Yeah and what exactly will you say? Hi, you probably don't even know I exist but I stare at your tight ass everyday on my ride back home. Sounds like a real winner."

He clenched his fingers into a fist. The frustration of it all was maddening. Merely introducing himself to her seemed like a herculean task. Each time he found the words, his courage failed him.

"Hi, I'm Tom. Nice to meet you."

"That would never work."

"Hi, I notice that we travel the same route every weekday and I want to know you better."

"Do you want a kick in the groin that badly?"

Several more permutations and combinations of an introduction flashed in his mind, each of them dismissed by his rational brain. He looked up at her again, smiling at something she saw on her phone. In that moment, his hands yearned to hold her and feel close to her. His lips wanted to explore the body, hidden underneath the leather jacket. For a fleeting instance, frozen in time between two intervals of normalcy, he wanted nothing more than to simply hold her hand.

The PA announced that Tom's changeover station had arrived. Reluctantly, he dragged his body off the seat and left, stealing one last glance of his subway fantasy. His eyes remained on her from outside until the train left, taking his dream with it. The ride on the other train was uneventful. He used the time to peruse some more reference material.

Half an hour later, Tom finally reached his apartment and threw his bag down on the couch. He yawned and stretched at a day's worth of tiredness. He would begin his work soon enough, allowing his mind the luxury of lingering on "subway girl" for a few more seconds.

"I don't even know her name," he thought wistfully. "But I'm sure it's something pretty."

Some day he would know her name. Some day he would hold her face in his hands and kiss her lips. Some day he would not go to bed alone.

And he will wait for that day, even if that day never comes.

* *

Craig Fraser's fingers were tired from strumming. The last few notes took a lot of effort. He walked through the subway car, smiling at people on either side while his wife, Darlene, held out a large hat to collect whatever they were kind enough to give.

It was a slow day. Apart from one obviously distracted student who tipped generously, the couple had few other takers for their music. The late night train rumbled back to the station nearest to their temporary home and disembarked. Darlene took the jumble of notes and coins from the hat and gave it back to Craig.

"We have enough for a couple of sandwiches from a deli," Darlene said hopefully. "Or would you like to try your luck at the soup kitchen?"

"Nah, we'll only get leftovers again," he replied.

They walked into the cold night, not wearing nearly enough. The biting air numbed their exposed extremities. Darlene rubbed her hands and blew into them. Craig wrapped his arm over her shoulder and held her close, trying to share some warmth.

"Do you remember where you left the car?" she asked, hugging him tightly.

He nodded and led her across the road. The dim street lights showed the outlines of people rushing to and fro, lit by the occasionally headlight of a passing car. There were several back alleys and abandoned tenements, lit by trash-can fires of the resident homeless population. Craig walked past a few alleys, seeing the homeless fighting over dumpster remains before he found the one he was looking for.

Their Camry was backed up against the back wall. Craig opened the door and let his wife in. She turned on the heater.

"I'll go get some sandwiches. You keep warm, all right?" he said. Darlene nodded and turned on the heater just enough to take the edge off the cold. She was mindful of not using up the fuel too fast. They were still a few days short of saving up enough to buy some more.

She leaned back against the rough seat, thinking about all the events that had led to this state in her life. Too many circumstances went against them, conspiring to put them in their current state.

"Whatever else I might lose, I'll always have Craig," she said to herself with a smile. Her smile grew wider when Craig returned with a brown paper bag.

"I thought you played really well tonight," Darlene said, taking a turkey sandwich from the bag.

"I can think of hundreds of passengers who would beg to differ," he grinned. "In fact, we might not have gotten anything without your charming looks."

They exchanged a hearty laugh and kissed. The sandwiches were soon disposed of and they snuggled into each other, watching the street outside. The number of cars subsided and the late night occupants of the streets came out, dressed appropriately skimpily to attract potential johns.

Darlene was not ashamed to admit that there came a time she flirted with the idea herself.

"I've got some good news, honey," Craig spoke up, wiping his face of the last bits of food. "When I was at the deli, the owner offered me an off-the-books delivery job. It's not much, but it's something. It would mean you can get some more rest, which you need now more than ever."

"But the subway travellers like my pretty face," she pouted. "You said so yourself."

"We'll work the subway on the weekends, okay?" he said. "It's been two weeks since we found out. Soon, you'll be in no shape to walk for hours on end through train compartments."

"Honey, I'm pregnant. I'm not a cripple."

"I know that," he said, kissing her forehead. "We'll go see the doctor at the free clinic on Morton tomorrow morning. I've heard he's a nice guy and does regular free check-ups."

"Look at you, always taking such good care of me," she said. Her gaze drifted outside the window to the brick wall. Craig watched her staring obscurely for a few seconds before asking.

"Something wrong, Darlene?"

"It's..." she started tersely. Craig put his arm around and leaned in, his face ashen with worry. She turned to face him, the hint of moisture in her beautiful green eyes. "Should we have this baby?"

Craig looked at her, trying to discern her thought process. This was one of the times when the gritty reality of their situation eclipsed the happy illusion that love alone could sustain them.

"I mean, what can we give this baby?" she said. "Living in a car and feeding off scraps. Is that any life? Nobody deserves to be born into this."

"Honey, you've wanted to be a mother from as far back as I can remember. What happened?"

"I don't know anymore," Darlene sobbed. "I just don't know."

"Shhh," Craig calmed her and stroked her hair. "With the new job at the deli we can finally get a place to stay in the projects. It's not much, but it beats this. Our baby will have a home."

She looked up into his eyes and saw a serene calm, belying their existential struggle. She had fallen in love with this man and wouldn't change that for the world.

"Don't let me go," she whimpered, clutching him tightly.

Craig reached down and kissed her full red lips. She smiled and kissed him on either cheek and down his neck while he softly nuzzled her hair.

"Remember the first date I took you on?" he smiled. "It was in this car itself. We went to your favourite pizza place and then to a grassy embankment to look at the stars."

"We did more than count stars that night," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Right in this backseat if I'm not wrong."

"It was a different world then. Sometimes, I like to go to sleep with you in this very backseat and imagine it wasn't so." He looked deep into her eyes again, the faint light casting a shadow over half her face.

Darlene's kisses were becoming more intense. Her lips pressed onto his skin, creating a wet trail down his neck. Craig reached down to her waist and helped lift her dress off. Her pale skin and luscious breasts came to view. He dropped his head and kissed each nipple tenderly. She moaned when he let his fingers slip into the waistband of her pants at the same time.

They stopped and she lay down on the backseat, with Craig on top of her. His lips explored her torso while her fingers massaged her nipples. She wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him to her. He undid her pants and let his fingers find her damp sex. They caressed the labia, tracing a long line from the bottom to the engorged clit on top which he rubbed with his thumb, making her gasp with rising pleasure.

She wrestled with the button of his trousers in the semi-darkness for a few minutes. Finally, he was able to lower them enough to take out his erect member. Her hungry gaze was arrested by the alluring outline of his endowment. He parted her legs and pushed into her, making her eyes go wide with the first thrust.

Holding the driver's seat for support, he pulled back and plunged deep into her, gradually finding a rhythm. She pushed her hand down and arched upwards to meet his thrusts. Eddies of pleasure radiated through her, glowing with the light of a million fireflies dancing under her skin. She felt a familiar warmth engulfing her, getting hotter by the instant. The heat went all the way to her core, acutely aware of the increasing tempo of the thrusts into her needy opening.

Higher and higher her arousal went, peaking for an instant before flooding her body with a blissful feeling of satisfaction. Darlene's full breasts heaved with every heavy breath her tired lungs took. She rolled to her side, curling her naked skin against Craig. He caressed her neck all the way to her cheek and back, peering upwards through the window to see a myriad of stars blanketing the night.

"Maybe it's all a bad dream," he thought. "Maybe we will wake up in that grassy hill, staring up at the stars."

He closed his eyes again, dreaming of a time when he first made love under the starlight.

* *

"Now remember, Laura," said the older woman. "This man comes to New York once every couple of weeks or so on business. If he likes you, you can be his regular. The other girls say he tips well on his way out.

Laura Hadley understood. The woman personally put the finishing touches on her make-up, colouring a dark hue over her eyelids. Her fiery red hair was neatly done into curled tresses which stroked her bare shoulders.

"I'll leave you for a moment to get ready," said the woman, walking towards the door. "Come when I call you."

Laura looked at the mirror again. There was so much red -- from her blazing hair to the unnaturally deep shade of lipstick to her dress. Even more swathes of red constituted her garish make-up. All that colour failed to hide her abject despair. She fiddled with her fingers for some time, steeling herself for the eventuality that was coming her way all too soon.

"What other choice do I have?" she thought, her mind immediately picturing the scores of homeless people in the backroads and footpaths outside. Before she entered through the side door of the club, she even saw a couple sleeping peacefully in the backseat of their car. Maybe she could live like that.

"But what about Chris?"

That was all the motivation she needed. Her resolve tightened and she knew what she had to do. She waited impatiently for the madam to return, so she could at least get it over with fast. Soon enough, there were the tell-tale footfalls approaching the door followed by the sound of the heavy metal hinges turning.

"Come with me," beckoned the proprietor. She followed, clicking her heels against the cobbled floor. They walked down a spiral staircase into the sub-basement where the illegal underbelly of the club thrived.

"I'm sure you already know this -- the confidentiality of your client is of paramount importance. Our entire establishment is built on discretion. One stray whisper and all that money you've been earning of late goes up in smoke. Also, try to do whatever he says. I have a guard stationed outside every door. If you yell out your safe word or press the panic button, he will intervene. The panic button is on the headboard of the bed, so you should be able to press it even if you're tied down. Do you follow?"