I wasn’t accustomed to the pushing ritual of the eight a.m. train so I ended up standing, leaning against the doors and wondering if they might open while the train was at full speed. I carried a leather briefcase and wore a dark blue business suit, a white silk shirt and new blue shoes. The skirt rested above my knee. The suit fit snugly on my hips and the deep color brought out my blond hair.
I thought I would blend in with the other suits on the train, but there was something I hadn’t expected. The attention I would receive as a young attractive woman on a train loaded with men.
“Would you like my seat?” A tall, skinny man with brown skin peeling from too much South Hampton sun stood gallantly.
“No, thank you,” I smiled.
“No, really, it’s okay.” He grabbed post after post as he walked to where I stood.
I looked out the window, attempting to ignore him, and saw trees and buildings whizzing by. My eyes crossed as they tried to focus. My body vibrated as I attempted to balance.
“I’m serious,” he continued. “I get a seat everyday. It won’t hurt me to stand.”
He slipped through the strap-dash hangers and leaned against the door. His arm crossed over my shoulders and I smelled his coffee-stale breath. A thick wedding band encircled his ring finger. It was gold with three white diamonds.
I smiled, picturing the door opening and the wind whipping him into the fast moving world outside, his body turning end over end over the Long Island suburbs.
“Thank you, but no,” I responded again, very politely. The emergency brake dangled a few feet from my head.
“Okay, your loss, sweetie.”
“I think it’s your wife’s loss,” I quipped.
His deep tan flushed white as he turned quickly to reclaim his seat, now occupied by a grey-haired woman absorbed in the pink and white afghan she was knitting. The woman’s knitting needles rhythmically clanked like the sounds of a tribal war dance, while the man pushed his way toward the next car.
As the train sped toward the city, its tracks paralleling Sunrise Highway, I saw many of the stores Soldier Boy and I used to visit. Our favorite was a train store. Our father, a collector of mechanical devices, loved train sets and would let us run loose in the store as he focused his sights on antique Lionel trains and the latest gadgetry. Upon entering the store, my brother and I always ran immediately to Tiny Town.
Tiny Town was set up in the back. Miniature train tracks passed through a market place and a feed store, horses were tied to hitching posts, and log cabin homes stretched along the model. The train navigated the town in a figure eight and then chugged into the front of the train store on tracks raised ten feet overhead.