I'm taking the 4 train to Yankee stadium. When I board at Grand Central, there's half a seat between a guy and a scrawny-looking black woman in her late 40s. Each scootches over a hair, enough for me to wedge in. 

Black woman (laughing): "See, if you ain't a fat-ass you can get a seat on the subway."

Me: "Yeah, I guess."

At which point I get to reading my book. A few moments pass.

BW: "Lord, I'm tired. Hope I don't fall asleep on the train."

I keep reading. A fidgety woman, she fumbles through her purse. Something falls on the floor, a pencil eyeliner. I pick it up and hand it to her.

BW: "Oh, thank God for that. I woulda lost my fucking mind if I lost that eyeliner. Would be looking for it all over the place. Thank you."

Me: "No problem."

BW: "I'm tired. I just need to get home."

Me: "Where's your stop? I can wake you up when we get there."

BW: "Nah, it's the next stop. Just gotta get home and make some ox tails."

Me: "Won't be long now."

BW: "Some ox tails and rice and peas." She pulls her sunglasses down to her nose and looks me in the eye. "You like ox tails?"

Me: "Sure. They're good."

BW: "Wanna come to my place and eat some ox tails?"

Me: "Well, I'm on my way to a baseball game. Meeting a friend."

BW: "Oh, you like baseball?"

Me: "Not really. Just free tickets. Yeah, going to meet a friend."

BW: "You still didn't answer my question. Wanna come to my place for some ox tails?"

Me: "Uh, I have this baseball game."

BW: "Game don't last all night. You're handsome."

Me: "Well, thanks, but I just got married three weeks ago."

BW: "Oh, really? I've been married 17 years."

Me: "Wow."

BW: "But I don't know what's come over that man in the last six months."

Me: "Seventeen years, that's a long time."

BW: "Yeah, been dating 23 years. Known each other our whole lives. Our parents were friends. We went to grade school together."

Me: "Wow."

BW: "But don't know what's come over him in the last six months. He's choking me, pushing me. But he don't punch me."

Me: "That's awful. You ever fight back?"

BW: "Well, that's why he choked me. But he's big. Three hundred pounds. I call him the choker."

Me: -

BW (goes through her purse): "Look" She pulls out a tube of crazy glue. "I got this. I told him I was gonna glue his balls to his legs." She laughs.

Me: "Well, that'll teach him."

BW: "Shit. You know what he said? He said, 'You love me too much to do that.'"

Me: "If a woman told me she was going to superglue my balls to my legs, I wouldn't push it."

BW: "Yeah, but he said, 'You love me too much to do that.' But it's hard, you know. All that time together. And we live in a small one-bedroom apartment. Been together all those years. But I put him out three months ago."

Me: "Y'all have any kids?"

BW: "Yeah, but they all gone. We got a son. He's got two twins. And." She pauses. "I had a daughter." She pauses again. "She died a few years ago. She was that woman got hit by that sanitation truck."

Me: "God. That's awful. I'm sorry."

BW: "Yeah, they all grown up. One's got an Associate's Degree. The other's got a B.A. But my daughter didn't live long enough to achieve her goals."

Me: -

BW: "I was 21 when I had her. She was 21 when she died."

Me: -

BW: "I haven't been to work in two years. Broke my heart. But it was a full year before it hit me. I was fine for that whole first year. Birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Then it hit. She's dead."

Me: "Awful."

BW: "I started drinking. Started smoking cigarettes again. I don't smoke crack, but started doing coke. Anything, you know, so I couldn't feel."

Me: "It's hard sometimes."

BW: "Yeah it is. And now look at me. I gotta get my shit back together. Look at my arms. I used to be ten pounds heavier. Still skinny, but ten pounds heavier."

Me: "Really?"

BW: "Oh yeah. Look." She goes through her bag and finds a stack of booklets rubber-banded together. She pulls out a 4x6 photo album. "Here."  

She shows me a photo of her sitting on her husband's lap. She is ten pounds heavier and looks good, vital. I note too that he is a very large man. They're both dressed to the nines, she in a tight dress, he in a tux. 

Me: "You look good there. And he's huge."

BW: "I told you."

Me: "Where is that?"

BW: "Oh that's a New Year's Eve party at some lounge. It's a beautiful place."

Me: "Well, you look good."

BW: "I know. I gotta get my head on straight. Get back to work."

Me: "You need to get home and start eating those ox tails." 

We pull into her stop. 

BW: "Yeah. Well, I better go."

Me: "Good luck."

BW, turning back at the door: "And make sure your wife treats you right."

 

Ken Wheaton writes for Advertising Age magazine and dabbles in fiction. He lives in Brooklyn.