September Bell and the J Train Stranger

        My name is September Bell, and yes, that’s my real name. Apparently it’s funny to name your child September when they’re born in August…just ask my parents they think it’s a hoot. Anyways, I’m twenty-eight, I like finger-painting, and I live in a miniscule apartment in Brooklyn. That’s all you need to know for now, so I think I’ll begin my story.
         I was twenty at the time and I worked at a souvenir shop on Canal Street and took the J Train every single day from Cleveland Street to Canal. Nothing out of the ordinary (at least for this city) ever disturbed me from this daily routine. For three years, it was my route…until one remarkable day. The day my story begins.
          It was a gloomy, rainy morning in late July. I was tottering along in my plaid, pink galoshes and matching umbrella when I slipped on a puddle and tumbled on down the subway tunnel stairs. Embarrassed, I gathered myself up to continue on my way when I realized my purse was no longer in my hand.  A sudden tap on the shoulder, and I turned to face the most alarmingly blue eyes I had ever beheld.
         “Is this yours?” his delicious deep voice inquired. He held my purse up with a pondering look.
         “…Yes. Yes it is. Thank you,” I stuttered, caught off guard. My gray eyes blinked repeatedly, still disoriented. With a dazzling grin he gave me the handbag and asked if I was alright. I merely nodded.
         He walked with me to the train and we boarded together, not speaking. Finally I worked up the courage to make an attempt at conversation.
         “So, do you take the J Train often?” I asked.
         “No, but I will be. This is my first day going to work at my new job at a hotel on Chambers Street.”
         “Oh, how interesting. I guess I will see you around then. I work over on Canal,” I shyly replied. A delightful stranger on the J Train…hmmm. We began to make small talk, but somehow I forgot to ask his name. My stop approached far too quickly and I was soon hastening along to work. So sick of “I NY” shirts and skyline magnets…
         The next morning was still drizzly, but the sun was barely peeking out, teasing us. I wore bright blue galoshes today, splish-splashing hurriedly along to the subway tunnel. I was running late and I didn’t expect to see him again…well I did, but I didn’t expect him to speak to me. I was wrong. There he was at the top of the stairs, waiting.
         “Thought I’d make sure you didn’t have any trouble with the stairs today,” he said with a smile, “And all day yesterday I was wondering what your name was.”
         “Oh…ha! Well, um, my name is…September” I managed to stutter. This was all too strange.
         “September? Were you born in September?”
         “No. August, actually.”
         “Really? That’s hilarious!”
         Wow. He had a dorky sense of humor. I tried to change the subject, “So…what’s your name?”
         “I’m Vlad. It’s awful, I know.”
         “Is it short for something?”
         “Yes…Vladimir. After my Russian grandfather.”
         “Shit. I think we have missed our train, Vlad,” I heard it leaving…without us. I was quite displeased with this stranger for delaying me. I found him attractive, but still. We weren’t friends, he didn’t know me, but he waited for me in a subway tunnel and caused me to be late to work.
         “No! This is my second day at work, I can’t just not show up,” he started to panic. “I’ll call and tell them I was delayed.”
         “Good idea. I think I’m just calling in, there’s no point in me going,” I replied dryly.
         “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. Uhhhh… I’m going to make it up to you! Dinner tomorrow?” he asked, almost pleading.
         “Um, sure, whatever. I’m sure I’ll see you, waiting for me in the subway tunnel when I get off work…which isn’t creepy at all,” my voice dripped with sarcasm.
         “Yes, I’ll be there! We can go wherever you like,” he missed the sarcasm. Vlad started to feverishly dial his cell phone, and I slipped away quietly. This man appeared smooth and attractive, but in reality he was awkward and somewhat bizarre. He didn’t seem to be the malicious, predator type, but he was the desperate, hopeless romantic type. He honestly thought he could build a relationship with some girl he ran into on the subway. Silly Vlad.
         I went back to my scummy apartment, called in to work, and took a hot shower. Why was Vlad so interested in me? I’m not an interesting person. I’m introverted, moody, and sarcastic, and I don’t care much for people, especially strangers who won’t leave me alone. After splattering paint onto a canvas for an hour, I crawled into bed and slept. I dreamt of drizzling rain and subway tunnels.
         The next day I went as usual to board the J Train and Vlad wasn’t there. It was a Saturday, so I figured it might be his day off. Or he might’ve been fired the day before. Relieved, I knew he wouldn’t be waiting for me when I got off work so I didn’t need to worry about dinner.
         Around 5:40 I started back home. Some crazy tourist had bought sixteen “I NY” shirts and then decided they were all the wrong size and tried to return them, which delayed my departure. People are dumb. I had forgotten about Vlad and dinner, when a sudden tap on my shoulder caused me to turn around. Those alarmingly blue eyes. Great.
         “Hey so I had forgotten it was my day off, but I had told you I’d buy you dinner, so here I am,” Vlad said with one of his dazzling grins.
         “Oh…right. I had forgotten about that…Um, how about you just get me a chicken kabob from one of the vendors and we’ll call it even.” I wanted him to just buy me food so I could be on my way. This was all so ridiculous.
         “Okay! That’s what I’ll do. Here just come sit on this bench and I’ll get you some food and bring it over.” I sat down. I could’ve gotten up and left while he was off getting food, but something made me stay. It was my conscience, telling me to be kind to this strange man. I wanted to tell my conscience to shove it, but for some odd reason I decided to listen. So I stayed.
         He returned with not only my dinner, but also with his own. Apparently he planned to actually eat WITH me. How aggravating.
         “So, September, what sort of things to you like to do?” Vlad asked. I cringed at my name.
         “Please, call me Em or Emmy. Everyone else does because I kind of hate September. And I like to be alone mostly and paint or draw. Sometimes I write,” I replied, emphasizing the “be alone” part.  Then he began to tell me about how he plays piano and draws and how he’s written a book but never published it. He asked if I would read it. For some reason, I said yes. And for some reason, when I looked at my phone, we had sat and talked for three hours.
         What was the deal? How could I actually like this weirdo? He was awkward, overly nice, and named VLADIMIR for God’s sake. At the same time, I found him attractive. I didn’t know why until I thought about it for a while: he cared. He actually cared about me and was interested in my life and that was really, really nice.
         Dinner dates soon became the norm. It was something to look forward to throughout the workday and I started sleeping better at night. Someone cared about me. I discovered that knowing someone cares kind of changes the way you look at life.
         This went on for several months until one day Vlad informed me that we were dating. I guess we had been the whole time, but it had never really occurred to me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, honestly. Did I want to be dating someone? Did I want to be dating Vlad? Was I ready to be someone’s girlfriend? Was I ready to love someone more than myself? I couldn’t decide. So I ignored those questions and enjoyed myself. I figured it didn’t really matter.
         Then a day arrived when the questions mattered. On the sixth month anniversary of the day I fell down the subway tunnel stairs, Vlad asked me to marry him. I was stunned. I looked into those alarmingly blue eyes that blinked at me so earnestly and I was speechless.
         “If you need to think about it…I understand,” he said finally, “It was kind of a spur of the moment thing for me too.”
         “Well yes, I would like some time to think if that’s okay.”
         “That’s perfectly fine. I will wait,” he said, but he seemed disappointed. Almost heartbroken.
         I wasn’t sure what to do. He loved me with the truest of loves, and I knew that. But I didn’t love him the same way. I had never loved him like he loved me and I had always felt guilty. Throughout our relationship, I had been self-serving and treated him worse than he deserved.
         The next day, I didn’t go to work. I stayed at home, thinking. Finally, I put a pen to paper and began to write as follows:

         Dearest Vlad,
         You have been the truest friend I could ever ask for. I was unsure about you in the beginning, but I have come to know that you love me, you really do. In many ways, you have changed my life. You’ve caused me to see myself for who I actually am. I have treated you unkindly many, many times, while you have been forgiving and selfless. I haven’t shown my gratitude for your friendship, while you have always been pleased just to have me with you.
         The reason I am writing to you now is to say that I don’t deserve you. You must realize that this has been the toughest decision I have ever made.  I am just too much of a selfish bitch to marry anybody right now. I’m not saying I’ll never be ready, but I’m not ready now. I love myself too much to love you like you deserve.
         But please understand, I do love you. I love you enough to tell you, “no”. I’m not the girl for you and you deserve so much better than me. Please, go find a nice girl, a girl who will love you in a selfless way and not be a bitch like I am. Find a girl who appreciates what you do for her and adores who you are. You’ve changed my life, and I mean that. You’ve shown me what it means to care for someone. You’ve shown me what a friend is and what a friend does.
          I must decline your proposal. You’ll probably think I’m doing the wrong thing and hate me for it, but someday you’ll be thankful. After you meet “the one” you’ll be thankful you didn’t waste your time on me. I’m not worth it. At least not now. So for the time being, we must part ways. It will hurt too much to see you, so I’ll be working at a different store, and riding a different train.
         I’ll never forget you, J Train stranger.
         Sincerely,
         September Bell

        I didn’t see him again. Not for three years. Until one day I decided to take the J Train and there I found my stranger again. He embraced me with open arms and to this day we have not parted.