Chapter 2 the boy in the subway

New York looked to Easy every year like the year before: crowded, dirty and

dangerous. Oh, she of course admitted it was a fabulous city, the most

electrifying ever, but she wasn’t really fond of it.

The streets were full of yelling, dancing, running, talking-on-the-phone

people, and Easy felt dizzy all of a sudden: she was heading toward the

subway, tired and hungry, and she was eager to reach Aunt’s home quickly.

The part of the subway she enjoyed much was the graffiti: she liked art in

all forms, and she thought street-art was one of its best forms, because it

made an old, shabby wall spurt with colors.

She bought a ticket and jump on the subway’s wagon with all her heavy

luggage and thanked God for that empty seat she found. It was clean,

something that surprised her: the other time, she had to seat on a cushion

carpeted with chewing-gums.

As she sat, she pulled out her smartphone �" a Lenovo: she hasn’t met

anyone else with a Lenovo, yet- and started watching her gallery. It was a

stupid thing, but there was no Net, and the phone charge was too low to

listen to music, so she just slid the hundreds of photo she accumulated

since six months. Also, it was a nice trick in order not to feel embarrassed

with lots of people stick next to you like sardines.

However, someone caught her notice and made her leave the photo she

has seen thousands times. It was a boy, hanging on the handrail right in

front of her: he was tall, with green, keen eyes, and a red cap with the

white initials “NY” sewed on it.

Easy was an acute and almost obsessive observer, and the thing she always

noticed after someone’s face was his or her shoes. She was glad to find that

the boy was wearing a pair of red classic Converse, and not some of those

ugly, modern sneakers they weared with many stamps, zigzagged soles,

gadgets, untied laces and sometimes even intermittent neon lights under

them, that looked like the Christmas lights. Just a pair of modest Converse.

But there was something in that boy face that Easy couldn’t describe: he

was gentle, simple and had that I-don’t-know-what which made you trust

him with eyes closed. She suddenly felt a bit of sympathy for him.

But that guy must have felt a pair of eyes scanning him, because he turned

to clearly face Easy: their pupils met each other and in that instant

everything else switched off. Now, don’t you think they had a what’s-socalled

“love at first sight” thing; nothing of the kind. It was just like when

you see somebody familiar and try to figure out who’s him or whether you

really know him. Or like when you’re watching a movie, and find an actor

you’ve already seen somewhere else, and you rack your brains to

remember where.

The boy was the one to recover first, and contracted his mouth into a slight

grin, showing his white teeth.

Easy widened her eyes a little as she felt the flames stain her cheeks red,

and she quickly glanced down, back to the old screenshot of that cute skirt

she found on the Net once.

For the boy, however, Easy big eyes were the biggest and deepest ever

seen. And they were of a wonderful brown, like dark chocolate, and that’s

why he grinned. “Like two dark chocolate waterfalls, overthrowing with all

their force on whoever those eyes may strike” he thought. And right after,

he realized how poetic that thought was, and he wanted to note it on his

pocketbook. And as he was taking it out of his pocket, leaving his catch

from the handrail, the tube took a turn and made the poor boy loose his

balance.

It was a funny, embarrassing and crazy moment the one in which he felt

right on Easy’s face, making her scream for surprise and horror.

Fortunately, the tube reached its stop in that same moment, and Easy

hurried away through the opened door, leaving the boy on his knees next

to her seat, with his mouth open.

A flow of people ran out of the door just like nothing has ever happened. 

“One of the best things of New York is that no one cares of anything” the

boy thought.

When Easy finally reached her Aunt’s house, she was still thinking of that

guy. “How embarrassing! What must people have thought!?” she mumbled

to herself. She knew that memory was going to be put in the rich collection

of “The worst and most tormenting memories ever” and that she’d

remember it for the rest of her life, making her silly cheeks catch on fire

each time.

However, as she pressed the doorbell, she let all the tiredness and pressure

of her trip flow through her finger, and she was comforted by the idea that

Auntie would give her a very heartening hug.

“Isabella! My dear, benvenuta!” the door shut open, revealing a woman in

her 50s but still with a bright smile of a teenager.

“Oh Aunt Jo, how much I’ve missed you!” they hugged each other as you’d

hug your best friend after a long time. Aunt Joanne always smelled of

Lavenders, and her arms were warm as she embraced her nephew, giving

her a wave of love and tranquility that reached her heart. Easy couldn’t

help smile and hug her even tighter: it was the best moment of her staying

in New York.