Hive Ave Fall2024 - Flipbook - Page 27
Hive Avenue Literary Journal
sand at low tide. This is the third time he enlisted my help. I’m
Saint Peter after the cock crowed. Passengers nod and hum in
agreement with me, although I stated nothing controversial.
This should be the 昀椀nal verdict. However, as the train slowly
screeches and trundles into another station to swallow up
more commuters, the construction worker jumps back into the
argument.
“Maybe you should get o昀昀 at this stop, sir,” he growls,
sternly. “I don’t think anybody likes your attitude.” Murmured
comments of agreement rise in volume.
“So, this is how the country is going now?” The businessman asks through the din, bemused as events turn to something he compares to mob rule. Once again, he looks to me
for validation. “These people think they can come here and do
whatever they want.”
“You mean immigrants?” I respond.
“Yeah!” His eyes convey the sense that I agree with him
at last. “They’re so entitled, right?” The question comes with no
requirement for an answer.
“I’m an immigrant,” I state, matter-of-factly, emphasizing my Scottish accent. He doesn’t expect this. Looking me
up and down, he snorts and calculates that it’s time to depart.
An incongruous hush seeps into the air as the businessman
reluctantly stands up, waving his long besuited arms at people
as if shooing their unvoiced opinions away. He’s the martyr
in his mind. He’s the vili昀椀ed, misunderstood victim. People
make space, glad to be rid of him. As he passes the construction worker - relieved to conclude the altercation - he mutters
“adios,” a strange, ironic farewell. Shaking his head, smiling, the
worker moves to the side.
In the middle of the fracas, the businessman’s exit creates
a slender passage for the small child. Between stops, the boy
froze in place underneath all the yelling, trans昀椀xed by the worker’s bright yellow hard hat. Neither parent nor child paid attention to the raging argument. As the businessman moves past
the worker to get out, the child sees an opening and decides to
scramble toward the doors. The mother frantically gets up.
Carrying a stroller and a bulky bag of groceries, she has
trouble maneuvering from the seating area. She becomes more
昀氀ustered as the train 昀椀lls up, calling on her child but unable to
give chase; her way out of the train obstructed by the young
man with the headphones. His dedication to the playlist - eyes
closed, Air Jordan’s tapping together - leaves the woman’s
exhortations unheeded.
The subway doors start to close. An announcement for
our destination comes over the loudspeaker: “the next station
will be ninety-sixth street, where you can change for the two
and three express trains; this is a south-bound one train, stand
clear of the closing doors.” As the signal to move sounds and
the doors wobble closed, and then open and close again, the kid
stands on the edge of the platform looking into the train. His
mother is still inside, with her stroller in one hand and shopping
bag in the other. Her face full of anguish, she turns to the passengers behind and lets out a loud, piercing wail.
Fiction
Most people didn’t see what happened. They’re happy
about the prevailing harmony. The racist businessman, banished from the kingdom, while the salt-of-the-earth working
man claims the seat over which the squabble began means justice reigns. A crisis, so soon after the 昀椀rst one, is unwelcome.
From the south side of the carriage it sounds as if there’s
an unbalanced person screaming at the top of her voice.
Unpredictable behavior on the subway is not unusual and many
are immune to the distress. Even people nearby seem uninterested. The scream turns to a yell. Once again, many passengers
look at their phones. People at the doors are unsure why the
kid is standing on the platform. They can’t make the connection between the boy and the woman yelling.
The train shudders in a vain attempt to move. The forward motion prompts the woman to appeal to individuals for
help, realizing that random screaming is not producing results.
Tears stream down her face. The train shudders and moves a
bit more. The woman comes back to my area, causing me, the
Bull’s fan, and the working man to stand up. We’re ready to help,
although we don’t know what to do. The woman holds on to the
shoulders of the Hispanic worker, crying in despair. He seems
sympathetic and powerless. His lower lip extends and he looks
down at the 昀氀oor. The young guy, headphones around his neck,
mutters that he’s sorry he didn’t know she’d been trying to get
past him and the situation is his fault and he needs to be more
aware of his surroundings and he’s the worst sort of human
being - sel昀椀sh and shallow - and he wishes he could do something to help. None of this placates the woman. She doesn’t
calm down.
I must appear helpful because, as she turns to me, she stops
yelling. She looks at me as if I know what to do. Unfortunately,
I’m not sure. The train shudders to a point where we know it’ll
soon gather momentum. Looking in my eyes for a sliver of
hope, and 昀椀nding nothing, the woman drops her stroller and
her shopping and pushes her way out of the seating area to
the back of the carriage. In spite of the tight squeeze of human
昀氀esh, packed in a manner considered cruel if su昀昀ered by other
mammals, she makes it to the door that connects to the next
carriage.
The train crawls along the platform. It’s possible for this
woman to jump o昀昀 from between carriages in an unconventional alightment. As I picture this event, I think of the child on
the platform. What’s he thinking? What about the gap? I took
the tube in London often enough to recall the constant reminders about the gap. The recorded voice of the woman telling
passengers to “mind the gap” crept into my head, repeating its
昀氀inty mantra. The child’s whole body could 昀椀t through the gap!
I look up at the bright red emergency brake cord and
wonder if this is an occasion for its use. According to the instructions, one should avoid pulling the cord in the case of a 昀椀re,
a medical emergency, or a police matter. Should I risk arrest?
Pulling it activates a braking system that overrides the driver’s
brakes. Even a mass shooting, a carriage engulfed in 昀氀ames,
or someone experiencing a cardiac arrest, are not considered
worthy incidents for emergency braking. That’s how seriously
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