The train eventually stops at Jamaica Station, and Luke has us get off and walk down a bunch of stairs, and then evenmorestairs, until we find ourselves on the Subway platform underground. Just glancing at the map of the different intersecting rail lines has me sweating with all the little numbers and letters that don’t mean anything to me, but Luke doesn’t even need to look at it. I can’t tell if that’s because he knows the route by heart or if he researched it before we got here and committed it to memory.
Being underground feels strange if I think about it for too long—a little claustrophobic, even. The idea that an entire cityof people above our heads could crush us instantly if the tunnel system were to collapse makes me squirm, and I can feel my eye twitch again at the thought. I try to push the image from my mind as we get onto the train, and it starts moving.
We sit in a train car with a couple dozen people as it chugs along, stopping periodically to let some people off and more people on, and I notice pretty quickly that almost everyone is keeping to themselves. There’s no eye contact or friendly smiles among the passengers, except for the very obvious tourists, and the train is relatively silent apart from the metallic clunk of the wheels on the tracks and the high-pitched squeal of the brakes. There are a few quiet conversations among people clearly riding together, but they keep their voices low, and I get the distinct impression that everyone likes it this way.
Even Luke is oddly reserved, blending right in as if this is some form of train etiquette everyone here knows about. He's got his knee pressed against mine, and he idly brushes his thumb over the back of my hand in his lap, but otherwise, we sit in relative silence. I don’t mind it, honestly. It would be an excellent place to pick up a book if I were confident I wouldn’t miss my stop by getting too engrossed in the plot. Despite having Luke here to ensure that doesn’t happen, I’m still too anxious to do anything but observe for now.
The overhead announcements are repetitive as they let everyone know what station we’ve stopped at, what station is next, and to watch out for the closing doors. After it chimes the first couple of times, it quickly fades into background noise, and I can kind of ignore it.
The station we’re apparently getting off at is called 23rdSt—since Luke has us stand up at the stop before it when it’s announced to be next—and we move closer to the doors in preparation to get off quickly. Standing up while the train jerks forward feels a bit reckless, and it’s obvious I don’t have the sealegs for it as I cling to the bar to keep myself upright, but Luke stands perfectly at ease without having to hold onto anything—native bastard.
My heart beats like a snare drum in my chest as the doors open, and suddenly, everything feels much more urgent. Luke ushers us onto the platform, where a million people wait impatiently to take our spots in the train car. It’s loud in the cramped space, and much more crowded than the one we got on at. I feel like I’m bumping into people with every turn I make while Luke maneuvers around them with ease. At least he never lets go of my hand, holding it firmly as he leads us toward more stairs, heading up and out into the fresh air.
As soon as we’re back above ground, I release a weighty exhale, feeling a wave of relief wash over me like I haven’t seen daylight in years. Luke turns his head and smiles knowingly as he pulls us back against the wall of a nearby building, out of the way of others walking on the sidewalk, so I can have a moment to breathe.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks with poorly restrained teasing.
I cut him a silent glare, and he bursts out laughing at the look on my face. But his crystalline laughter is like long-forgotten music to my ears, and the moment I hear it, I instantly realize I haven’t heard it properly inweeks. God, how I’ve missed the sound. I’m not able to pinpoint exactly when it went away, but I can’t help but smile at the resurgence of his delight, even knowing it’s at my expense. Suddenly, all the discomfort in the world would be worth it to keep that sparkle in his eyes.
“You honestly lived like this every day?” I ask, glancing around as I try to regain my bearings. There are so many people walking around even though it’s cold and windy, the sun offering hardly any warmth, and I start to feel a little of that claustrophobia creeping back up the longer we stand here.
We’re on the corner of a busy intersection with cars zooming down a one-way avenue. The noise is much louder than I expected as it reverberates off the stone buildings around us, which look like they go for miles in every direction. And those buildings are massive, too. I have to assume most of them are apartments, but there are a lot of businesses on the street level—restaurants, drug stores, coffee shops, doctor’s offices. Some business signs are so small that they’re easy to miss unless you look really hard for them. Honestly, it feels a little cramped and dingy, and there’s a surprising amount of graffiti wherever I look. But there’s an equally surprising amount of rainbow-colored pride paraphernalia. It’s a lot to take in all at once.
Luke smiles, turning to look out at the same space I see with noticeable warmth and likely fond memories. His eyes sparkle with unmistakable affection as he takes in the seemingly familiar corner, and I can immediately tell thatthisis home for him.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” he sighs dreamily, and how I wish I could see what he sees. Then he shakes his head and smiles, turning and tugging my arm as he starts walking down the street once more. “It’s another five to ten minute walk from here to the apartment. Five for me, but I’ll keep it slow for you,” he teases with a playful wink.
“Rude.” I scoff.
Luke gives me a coy smile with a glint in his eye, and he wraps his fingers in mine. He raises our joined hands to his lips and plants a delicate kiss on my knuckles. “It’s called chivalry, babe. Look it up.”
I can’t help but grin as I roll my eyes.
True to his word, Luke actually does hold himself back for me, but I start to feel like I’m holding up the rest of the city with my more leisurely pace. We’re passed numerous times by people who look like they’re walking normally but must have turbo jets on their shoes, given how much ground they cover in such ashort amount of time. I mean, Luke and I are the tallest people on the sidewalk, and you’d think that with my long legs, I’d have the advantage of crossing more distance even if it’s slower, but my country gait is like molasses compared to these people. Even Luke looks like he’s struggling to reel it in.
We walk for a few blocks until we come to an old, nondescript building that looks like many others around it, and Luke tugs open what looks like a secret door nestled between a pizza place and a bakery. It almost feels like we’re entering a space we aren’t supposed to be in, but it turns out to be the only way upstairs to the floors above. There’s a wall of mailboxes tucked in close to the door for maybe twenty apartments, and a very shoddy-looking elevator sits in the back of the hallway that I don’t think I’d trust with my life. Luckily, Luke opts for the stairs, leading me up four or five flights before turning and heading down another long hallway, stopping at the door near the end. He pulls a set of keys from his bag and fumbles with the lock for a minute before opening the door and walking inside.
I’m not sure what I was expecting Luke’s fancy city apartment to look like, but the first thing that comes to mind when I see it is that it’stiny. As we walk in, there’s a kitchen immediately to my right, with so little counter space that nothing could reasonably be cooked there. Then, immediately in front of me is a living room with a dining table taking up the only available space right by the front door. There’s an L-shaped couch against the wall, giving it the illusion that it’s two different rooms, but it can’t hide the fact that you could almost reach out your arms and touch one wall to the next. Or maybe that’s just how it feels to me.
Still, the space is immaculately put together, decorated with just enough mismatched items to be cohesive. The number of house plants covering every available surface would almost be comical if it weren’t so cozy and inviting. Crystals and gems hangin front of the only two windows, refracting the light in tiny rainbows along the floor and furniture. The couch looks plush and comfy, covered in pillows with a massive, crocheted throw blanket hanging over the back. It seems happy and well-lived in.
As I’m taking in the space, before we’ve even had a second to put our stuff down, a door opens down the long hallway to the left—which I assume leads to the bedrooms—and a head pops out from around the corner with a mop of curly hair and the wildest lime-green trapezoid-shaped glasses I’ve ever seen on a freckled face. The owner breaks into a wide grin and comes bounding out into the main area with giddy laughter, squealing “Lululemon!” with unrepressed glee before launching into Luke’s arms with aplomb.
“Hi, Rei.” Luke chuckles as he hugs his tiny assailant. “I’ve missed you, too, shrimp.”
I can’t help but cock my head to the side curiously. “Lululemon?”
“Because he comes in a variety of shades and hugs your hips ‘til there’s no room left for Jesus between you.” Rei winks, and I can’t help but blink with confusion at the unhinged response.
“Ignore them,” Luke says quickly, rolling his eyes, though not unaffectionately. “They tend to come off as mean when they’re trying to be sweet.”
Instantly, I pick up on Luke’s use of ‘they’ pronouns, and I can’t help but give his roommate another curious look as it registers in my brain what that means. Then I notice how androgynously Rei is dressed, wearing a set of wide black trousers, a baggy T-shirt with Ziggy Stardust on the front, and a brightly colored overshirt with a loud pattern that somehow matches the lime green of their glasses. The longer I study them, the more ambiguous they become until I have no choice but to question my first assumptions. And then I look away quickly, feeling rude for staring.
Although I knew there were people out there who prefer gender-neutral identifiers, I’m just now realizing I never actuallymetanyone back home who used the singular they as a personal pronoun before. In truth, that may have been more for practicality than authenticity, given the nature of small-town bigotry, but it means my experience with it has been limited. I’d learnedsomethings from outspoken non-binary or genderfluid celebrities I’d stumbled across on the internet, as well as from a few books where one of the side characters was given that identity, but the only real-world exposure I have involved listening to the way the guys at work complained about ‘woke culture’ ruining this country with all these new labels… It’s not exactly the model of inclusivity one could hope for.
I’m aware that I’m out of my depth with this, and suddenly, there’s a new anxiety in my chest. I realize I made an immediate conclusion about Rei’s gender that I now have to force myself to ignore, and as simple as it sounds in my head, there’s also an insurmountable amount of pressure on me to make sure I get it right. What happens if I slip up and say the wrong thing, even if it is an accident? I don’t want to offend Rei or give them the impression that I don’t care about their identity just because I’m a fumbling idiot with no hands-on practice taking gender out of a conversation…
It's fine. This will be fine. From now on, I’m just going to have to be extra careful paying attention to it and hope that they’ll be kind to me if I do accidentally fuck it up.Fuck.
