New Things

Constance Miller is a 25 year old woman with the sensibilities of a 65 year old woman and a fashion sense that her grandmother had once described as being “old-fashioned.” While she is, in fact, quite attractive, that seems to be a secret Constance is determined to keep to herself what with her adeptness at eye-averting and shoulder-slumping. Today she returns home from work with more urgency than usual, shutting the door with more force than the other tenants of her apartment building are used to hearing from her. She scurries towards the phone and quickly dials, whispering, “Please, pick up” as the other end rang. And then a click as someone answers.

“Hello, mom?” Constance hails.

“Connie?” her mother asks.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

“What is it, honey? Is something wrong?”

“You told me to try something new. I told you that I would only regret it but you insisted and you made me promise!” Constance had always been one to keep promises especially ones made to her mother.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now. But I can safely say I won’t be deviating from my- what did you call it?- my ‘ho-hum life’ anymore, at least not anytime soon.”

“What happened?”

“I’m devastated! That’s what happened! I’m never venturing out of my routine ever again after what happened today!!!”

“Honey, you’re being hysterical. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need your father and me to come over?”

“Yes, mother, I’m sure I’m okay. And no, you don’t have to come over.”

“Now, just walk me through exactly what happened.”

“Well,” Constance stutters and takes a deep breath, “It was an unusual morning to start off with--” But it wasn’t an unusual morning at all. In fact, it was a very usual one, the type that Constance herself would approve of. The sun had very few clouds to compete with and the sky was a lovely faint blue as a result. It wasn’t too warm yet it wasn’t very cool either inviting Constance to enjoy her sensible breakfast that morning with the window open.

“Despite all that, I was in a good mood this morning,” she continues and she really was. “I finished my breakfast and got dressed for work.  I was running a few minutes late and briskly ran down the street to catch the next possible train.” Constance was actually a few minutes early when she walked calmly down the street. Granted, she may have felt some anxiety due to a concerted effort on her part to lift her head higher than usual and make actual eye contact with strangers (a stipulation of her promise with her mother).

“When I finally get to the subway station,” she continues, her mother listening intently, “I had just missed the train. It was just pulling out as I got off the last step.” While there was a train that was pulling out of the station as Constance got off the stairs, it was most definitely not her train. “The droves of people that the train brought were enough to make me feel claustrophobic.  They were in such a hurry to go this way and that way that I nearly lost my bearings. And just as quickly as they had arrived, everyone disappeared.” There were a few people that got off the train, but none were in too much of a hurry. Only half of them leisurely walked up the stairs to the street and the rest of them remained on the platform waiting to transfer to the next train.

“That sounds quite jarring, Connie,” her mother responds. “I don’t know how you could stand living in the city for so long. You tend not to do so well in crowded places.”

“Mother, that’s not even the worst of it. The worst part about waiting for your train in an empty station is the silence. Even the smallest rustle of litter is cacophonous. I nearly jumped when I heard the buzzing of one of the neon lights. It took me a split second to realize it was just the lights flickering.” The noise of city life is deafening compared to the kind of quiet that one may experience in subway stations. However, Constance normally loved the lack of noise on that particular platform, a stark contrast from the din of the city above. But the flickering of lights drew her attention to a man sitting on a bench on the far end of the platform.

“Connie, when exactly is the part where you try something new?”

“I’m getting to that, mother! Where was I? Oh, yes, the lights were buzzing and blinking away. Just one particular set of lights and sitting on a bench just below them was an otherwise unassuming man.” He was a handsome man with a strong jaw, thick black hair, and he was wearing a very stylish suit. “He looked lonely.” In actuality, he looked as if he were sleepy. His head hung down, his eyes were closed and his hands rested neatly on his lap. In fact, if the man were awake then, Constance’s shyness would have overcome her ability to keep her promise to her mother.

“So this was the new thing you were going to try, Connie? You were going to ask out a boy?”

“I wasn’t going to ask out a boy, mother! I just wanted to start a conversation!” It’s difficult to start a conversation who was likely taking a nap. Constance was too afraid to wake him let alone talk to him and opted to sit beside him hoping to be that Good Samaritan that woke him up in time to catch his train. She hoped against hope that that would be enough for this good looking stranger to start a conversation with her rather than the other way around.

“Well, what happened?” her mother inquires with noticeable enthusiasm.

“As I approached him the lights went completely out. It startled me, of course, and it actually caused me to jump.” The lights went out but Constance didn’t jump. In fact, she breathed a sigh of relief as it was an excuse to stall any sort of contact with the attractive man who sat just a few feet away from her. But as she stood up from the bench to look at the flickering light, she noticed something. “And when I jumped I saw his hands fall lifelessly to his side. I scooted closer to him and… and…”

“Honey, what is it?”

“I noticed there was blood on his shirt. It wasn’t spewing out like those horrible horror movies that are on television. There was a large spot of blood on his shirt that was just barely hidden by his jacket. I wouldn’t have noticed it right away if his hand hadn’t had moved. I gently touched his shoulder to ask him if he was okay, if he needed me to call for an ambulance or something… and then…. And then….”

“Oh, my goodness, Connie!”

“And then he slumped over lifelessly off of the bench. His head hit the ground with a dull, sickening thud and all I could do was scream at the top of my lungs!”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know! One of the passersby must have heard me scream and called a police officer. It all went by so fast. I gave my statement to the police just as I told you just now.” Well, the account she gave police was much closer to the truth than the one she had just given to her mother.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am… Thanks… But the whole ordeal was very traumatic. I don’t think I’ll ever try anything new ever again.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, honey. I hope you really don’t mean what you said about trying new things. I just think that trying new things would give you a new perspective on life.” Connie’s mother implores.

“Well,” the young woman replies, “maybe one day I’ll try something new again. But for now I’m perfectly content with the way things are. Anyway, I have to start preparing my dinner and make sure I get to work early tomorrow morning. I’d hate to have another horrendous morning twice in a row.”

“Okay, honey. I’m so glad you’re doing so well after that ordeal. Goodbye. And sleep well.”

“Bye, mother. I’ll see you when I come over this weekend.”

To this day, Constance Miller would deny that that first venture into new things changed her perspective on life. But she would be wrong whether she admitted it or not. Because even though she did actually prepare dinner as soon as she hung up the phone, she didn’t go straight to bed as originally intended. Instead, she took out a pen and a pad of paper and recounted the events one more time in her head and realized that the events of that morning had awoken in her a penchant for writing fiction. It was a hobby that soon developed into a talent but wasn’t fully realized until quite some time after that initial incident. But even if she hadn’t discovered this ability to write, her life would still be changed drastically since it takes at least three times longer to get to her office by bus than by subway.