Luke’s hands drop from my waist and we turn to Henry who’s paused on the edge of the platform, ready to jump.
“You can do it, Henry!” Luke calls.
Henry launches himself with ease, calling “Woohoo!” as he goes. We watch as he swings and makes a big leap onto the net, then bounces there, grinning.
“My turn, I guess.” Luke laughs nervously, rubbing his hands together. “I’m not sure if I can do this.”
“What?” I say, surprised. “You totally can.”
“I’m not like you, Harriet. I’m not as adventurous—”
“No.” I shake my head, wanting to at least tell him some of the truth. “That wasn’t easy for me. IfIcan do this, you definitely can. Besides, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“You’re right.” He straightens up. “I just need to get past my fear.”
“Well—” I chuckle, putting on my Yoda voice. “Fear is the path to the dark side.”
A low laugh rolls out of him. There’s something swirling in his gaze as he takes a step closer, but just as he’s about to say something, Henry climbs off the net beside us.
“Are you going, Uncle Luke?”
“Yeah.” Luke nods, not lifting his eyes from me. “No regrets, right?”
“Right,” I murmur, watching him go.
And as he climbs the ropes, I can’t help but wonder if he was talking about the trapeze, or something else entirely.
19
Iwander the abandoned subway platform, straining my ears for the sound of approaching trains that I know will never come. It’s eerily quiet down here.
Luke strolls past, hands tucked into the pockets of his hooded sweater, head cocked to read the plaques dotted along the platform. Up ahead, Henry ducks into an old subway car.
After we finished our time on the trapeze—I went three more times, each one a little easier than the last—we changed and headed out. When Luke suggested we come to the New York Transit Museum in Brooklyn I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’ve got to hand it to him; this place is awesome.
Entering the museum was like entering any other subway station: down the steps with the green railing, all the way underground to a disused subway platform, lined on either side by old trains as far as you can see. The difference here is that there isn’t the screech of trains coming and going, the press of the crowd to get on board, the feeling that I could be mugged or pushed onto the tracks at any second. I’m surprised that—as much as I hate the subway in Manhattan—I’m captivated here, walking through these old carriages, thinking of all the people who rode them and what their lives might have been like.
I lean closer to read a plaque that dates the carriage in front of me back to 1907 and utter a reverent “Wow.”
Luke stands beside me, reading the information he’s probably read a hundred times before. He told me he comes here all the time, and I couldn’t help but find that nerdy little fact adorable—even though I know I shouldn’t.
“Isn’t it awesome?” he says.
I nod, amazed at how old the carriage before me is. People have been riding these trains since the early twentieth century and here I am, a modern woman, scared of the subway. I shrink with shame.
Luke angles his body towards me. “What is it?”
I blush and smooth my hands over my dress. How can he tell something is up?
“You okay?”
I meet his gentle gaze. “When we went to the board game cafe yesterday, and when we came over to Brooklyn today, why did we take a cab and not the subway?”
He shrugs. “I thought you’d be more comfortable. Alex mentioned something about you not liking the subway. I was surprised by that at first—I mean, you go skydiving and do all these wild things.” He shakes his head, smiling to himself.
An uneasy laugh ripples out of me as I look across the platform of the museum. No wonder he was confused. Who’s afraid of the subway but happily jumps from an airplane?
Luke leads us off the platform into the empty subway carriage, and I glance around in wonder. Unlike the subway cars today, we have to step onto the end to enter. The body of the car is made of wood—no steel or plastic—and the interior is painted a dark red, with windows lining each side and leather handles hanging down along the center. Seats line the walls like the modern cars of today, but many of them face forward and back, like a bus. They’re covered with a woven, wicker material, and the whole thing makes me feel like I’ve stepped back in time.
