saved by the bell
She read somewhere that gardening was supposed to have a calming effect on you. Given that she probably read it off of some old Facebook page, at this point, the woman was desperate for anything to keep her from going completely off the deep end. So, she ultimately decides to plant a tiny garden in a pot, which she places in her front window. Right now, she’s counting on two tomato plants to bring her some sort of newfound joy.
In the mornings, she adorns her scoop-backed, black one piece and proceeds to do her mornings laps. After toast and fruit, she takes Dallas, her shorthaired grey pointer, out around the block. She gets dressed, preferably in a patterned pencil skirt and solid blouse (somedays pant suits have to suffice) and heels. Foundation, a little bit of powder and mascara are next on the list, giving her face a little touch up. She’s never seen the point in wearing blush or concealer (or even eyeliner). It’s not like she’s going to have her picture taken everywhere she goes and it’s not like her job requires her to have some extravagant look. Kyle calls her every morning to check up on her, and then, at exactly 6:55 a.m. (6:25 if she wants to be there early), she leaves her duplex and walks the one hundred some meters to the subway station, before getting on the express route.
She manages communications for the Washington Capitals, the local NHL team. Her team of thirteen staff run the advertisements, the commercials and the press for the team. It provides a small challenge, a small rush and a little bit of recognition, but for the most part, it’s simple. It’s straightforward.
She comes home to Dallas, who accompanies her on a walk. Dallas is a special breed of pointer, a Weimaraner, who she bought in Germany and then brought home to America with her after her internship with Duisburg football club ended.
She goes to her volleyball (in the summer) or her soccer (in the fall, winter and spring). She makes dinner, maybe watches a TV show. An ACL tear in university ended her professional sports career, but these recreational outings make her life a little more bearable.
Her life follows an easy, straightfoward routine. It’s plain, it’s boring, and everyday, she wishes she could have more of an interesting one.
So Ali does just that; she decides that it is time to find herself a more interesting life.
.:.
Shit. Deep within the seemingly never-ending depths of her purse, she can hear it. The shrill of her phone, blaring some Taylor Swift song.
“Hey Ky,” Ali gets out. Today hasn’t been her best day yet; she felt a little slow in her morning laps, Dallas had tried to chase a squirrel on her walk and her flat iron gave out on her. The result is a puffy bun on the top of her head and being two minutes late to leave her house.
“Hey, sorry, a bit of a rough one here,” she mumbles, her stilettos clicking against the pavement of the station, “just got to the station now and — oh for the love of God.” Ali can feel the tears beginning to well in her eyes, as the 98X Downtown takes off from the platform. “I missed it.”
“Alibean, they come every five minutes. You got to take it easier on yourself.”
“But the one that comes in five isn’t an express and it takes a detour and now, now I’m going to be late either way. I have to call my boss Ky, can we talk later? I had a meeting at 7:45 and now — ”
“Please, just try to be easier on yourself. I don’t think you have ever been late to work, plus they love you.”
Ali didn’t even answer, she just groaned as she dragged herself closer to the edge of the platform, peeking down the tunnel.
“Al, please. Promise me?”
“Fine, I promise.”
“Okay, love you. You know how to get me if you need me. Muah.”
“Love you too.”
It’s warm out, even being the beginning of fall, which makes the additional wait a touch more pleasant. The leaves are all beginning to change, which makes for a golden yellow glow to be cast down into the subway station. She makes a mental note to bring Dallas to the nature trail tonight, to capitalize on the weather.
The 98 rolled down the tracks towards the platform, coming to a screeching halt right in front of her. She found herself a seat against the window, facing the opposite window. The transit map was right above the window and thankfully, the only major variation that this subway has, is that it stops in Beacon Hill, a small, wealthy neighbourhood in Washington.
The change of scenery was not as bad as Ali anticipated. She had probably been riding the 98X for 6 years now that she really thinks about it, so maybe some new faces wouldn’t be the end of the world.
The first stop (of three) in Beacon Hill, renders nobody too thrilling. A few business men clad in expensive suits, a few businesswomen in pearls and dresses. The second stop is even less exciting. Only three people get on, all of which are exactly the same as the last group.
And then there is the last stop. A significantly larger group of people get on the subway this time. A man and his wife, two teenagers (who’s earrings probably costed more than Ali’s whole outfit), two more men and four more women. And then, right before the door closes, two more women slip through the door, finding a seat right across from Ali, right below the map.
From some reason, she finds herself intrigued by these two. One girl is freckled, with light brown hair flowing down her shoulders, to her collarbones. Her heels look so painful that Ali’s feet hurt just looking at them, tall, bright pink stilettos, who, on anyone else, would probably look tacky. But with her floral pants and white blouse, she pulls off a light, colourful outfit, that looks absolutely adorable.
And by the way the woman to her left looks at her, she thinks she is adorable too.
The other woman’s presence is bigger; with broader shoulders and taller frame. She’s wearing a slim fit, navy suit, with a white button down underneath and her blonde (or is that white?) hair is in frizzy waves and tucked behind her ears. Her dimples go so far into her cheeks that they disappear and she looks at the smaller girl like she is the only thing that matters in the world.
Ali only catches snippets of their conversation, talking about how loaded their days are, what they want for dinner or how excited they are for the Spirit game tonight.
They are soccer fans, she determines, and by the defined calf muscles she can see, she guesses they both played in university. The brown haired one is well educated, based on the fact that her keys are attached to a Stanford lanyard. Her clean kept, but not painted nails indicate to Ali that she is girly, but not too girly. She probably likes to be with her girl friends but also be able to keep up with the boys.
Ash, she learns is her name, from listening to the smaller girl, is a little harder to get a handle on. She’s not wearing any jewellery and neither of them are wearing rings (not engaged). This ‘Ash’ has no lanyards, but a David Yurman watch (well paying job, or maybe a gift from someone?) and rainbow dress socks (outgoing, but not outspoken). She assumes Ash
is short for Ashley, but has nothing to confirm this suspicion. Never mind that the name seems a little too girly for the girl in front of her.
Suddenly, the short girl catches Ali’s eye as she studies ‘Ash’s’ hands. Ali can feel her neck heat up, praying that the redness isn’t showing on her face, and pretends she is just looking at the transit map above their heads.
The subway comes to a slow and the door dings shortly after. Saved by the bell, Ali chuckles to herself, as the smaller one stands up.
“Okay Ash, I’ll see you later. Love you,” she smiles, giggling as the blonde kisses her lips lightly. Her hair bounces in sync with the clicking of her stilettos and just as she gets to the platform, Ash calls out to her.
“See you later, Stanford. You’re on for tonight.” She winks and the Stanford girl laughs into the warm outside air, as the subway speeds off.
Ali imagines their how life. She guesses that Ash is probably a Washington fan and that Stanford is probably rooting for the other team; if Ali can recall properly, Washington’s opponent is Sky Blue. She imagines them teasing each other about their alma maters, eating food couscous and kale. Beacon Hill is an affluent neighbourhood, so they probably hop into their hot tub after dinner, relaxing with red wine and quiet music. She can feel her face blushing at the thought of the two skinny dipping and finally snaps out of it, just in time to her a throat clear.
She snaps her eyes out of their haze to find herself staring right at the blonde, who’s smirking right back at her. The bell dings and she realizes that she didn’t even notice the subway slowing down at her stop. Standing up quickly, she finds herself right in front of the blonde.
Ali gulps as she hears the low voice in her ear, desperately trying to escape the suddenly claustrophobic subway.
“Maybe try not to undress my girl with your eyes next time, yeah?”
She just nods, missing the smirk all over Ash’s face.