I assumed my daughter’s unexpected subway romance would become another sweet memory I’d repeat for years. Then she showed me a photograph, and I understood she was not simply introducing me to a boy she liked.
She was bringing the deepest heartbreak of my life back through my front door.
Stormy had never looked so delighted because of a boy.
She seemed to drift into the house, tossed her backpack onto the kitchen floor, and began talking before she had even removed her shoes.
I glanced up from the strawberries I was cutting, placed the knife aside, and rested against the counter.
“All right. Tell me.”
“It was on the subway.”
“Of course it was.”
“I got on at Harvard Station because I was meeting Mia downtown. The train was packed, and this guy was standing across from me reading ‘The Great Gatsby.’”
“You noticed the book first?”
“I noticed he wasn’t pretending to read it to look smart.”
I laughed at that.
“He kept smiling every time someone got on because this little kid across from him was trying to pronounce the station names. At one point the kid asked him if ‘Massachusetts’ was the longest word in the world.”
“He said, ‘Only if you’re six.’”
She laughed again as though the moment were happening in front of her.
