I thought my daughter’s subway romance was going to be another cute story I’d tell for years. Then she showed me one photo, and I realized she wasn’t introducing me to a new boyfriend; she was introducing me to the greatest heartbreak of my life.
Stormy had never smiled this much over a boy.
She practically floated through my front door, dropped her backpack onto the kitchen floor, and launched into a story before she’d even taken off her sneakers.
“Mom, you’re going to think I’m making this up.”
I looked up from the bowl of strawberries I was slicing, sliding the knife aside and leaning against the counter.
“All right. Tell me.”
“It was on the subway.”
“Of course it was.”
“I got on at Harvard Station because I was meeting Mia downtown. The train was packed, and this guy was standing across from me reading ‘The Great Gatsby.'”
I smiled.
“You noticed the book first?”
“I noticed he wasn’t pretending to read it to look smart.”
That made me laugh.
“He kept smiling every time someone got on because this little kid across from him was trying to pronounce the station names. At one point the kid asked him if ‘Massachusetts’ was the longest word in the world.”
“And?”
“He said, ‘Only if you’re six.'”
She laughed all over again, reliving the moment.
I hadn’t seen her this excited in years. Stormy was cautious with people, so seeing her this excited made me pay attention.
“So you talked?” I asked.
“He asked what I was reading.”
“And?”
“I told him I wasn’t reading anything because my phone died.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Smooth.”
“I know.”
She groaned dramatically.
“I thought I’d completely embarrassed myself.”
