Page 40 of Pining for You

“Don’t be ridiculous, B,” Diya says. “She’s gonna be obsessed with you.”

“You guys are sure you’re up for it?” Izaac asks, eyeing Cash and his boots.

“Literal wild horses would have to kick me in the face to stop me,” Cash says.

“Aggressive, dude,” I say, “but let’s go!”

11

“That was harrowing!” Cash whines with extra dramatic oomph once we’ve emerged from another subway station, a little more than a half hour later.

“Well, we are living in their world,” Diya retorts. “What do you expect?”

There were no wild horses to speak of, but we did have a wildlife run-in that may haunt Cash ’til the end of time.

This time when we boarded the train, there were no dancers, no speakers, no performances of any kind—just a scattering of other quiet riders content to keep to themselves. There was even one woman, wearing a battered satin Mets jacket that I presume has survived no fewer than eighty-six seasons and a matching orange Mets beanie, who was sitting up straight but appeared to be fully asleep. It was a far quieter ride, which at least gave us all a chance to collect our thoughts.

That is, until the shriek.

The sound was practically inhuman, and I instinctively reached up to cover my ears—but when I turned, I realized it was Cash.

“Wait, wait, stop!” Izaac said, as Cash danced around the pole, shaking out his hands and grimacing like he just found a hair in his cocoa… and the cocoa was sewer water.

“You’re gonna make it worse!” Diya said, but I still had no idea what was going on, until I saw that Cash’s tote bag—which he’d stashed under his seat—was moving.

A moment later, the bag flopped over, and a rat the size of one of Cooper’s prize pumpkins trotted out, carrying a package of seasonal Oreos in its mouth.

“Holy shit,” Izaac and I said in unison.

“Ohhhhhh goddddd,” Cash whined, clutching Diya’s arm, while she actually laughed a little to herself. “Is he looking at me? He just looked at me! He can smell my fear!”

I wondered whether we should try to take the Oreos or figure out how to sedate our friend, but then a stern new voice entered the chat.

“Do not move!”

I looked up to find the sleeping woman, who appeared now fully awake and less than amused in all her Mets gear.

“Oh! Are you here to save us?” Cash asked. “I’ll do anything.”

She motioned at him to sit down with an irritated grimace, and then, in one swift movement just as the train came to a stop and the doors opened, she reached into her pocket and produced what appeared to be a half-eaten granola bar and tossed it onto the platform. The rat followed swiftly, dropping the Oreos like they were last year’s Labubus.

Cash stood back up and applauded. Once I was sure everyone would survive this episode, I switched on my camera.

The woman shook her head, then dusted her hands together.

“Oh my god, how can I repay you?” Cash asked her, and for one quick second, the woman eyed his boots. Cash took an alarmed step back and she laughed and went to return to her seat.

But then Cash called out, “Wait!” and followed her. He reached into his pocket and handed her the doughnut I bought him at Grand Central.

“It’s mint,” he said, nodding, as if this woman was going to be very concerned with the flavor profile.

“Uh, thanks,” she said. The way she studied him made it clear she thought he was crazy.

“Of course! You’re an angel,” he told her. “Truly.”

“No, kid.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m a New Yorker, which you are obviously not.”

She took the doughnut with a scowl, took her seat, and shouted her last bit of advice. “Save us all the trouble and invest in a bag with a zipper next time!” Then she gave him a reluctant half smile, and held up the doughnut in thanks before taking a huge bite.