a subway story

I am on the subway reading The Husband’s Secret.

WARNING:  DO NOT READ THE NEXT PARAGRAPH IF YOU PLAN TO READ THIS BOOK.

Suddenly I hear, “So, what’s his secret?”  At first, I don’t even realize I am being addressed.  I look over over and see this man, sitting with a younger couple.  The man says, “So, what’s the husband’s secret?”  Before I reveal it, I confirm that he and his two friends will not be reading the book.  So I tell them that the secret:  the wife discovers that her husband of 20 years strangled a girl when he was 17.  And from there, the three of us engage in a spirited discussion on what the wife should do.  The younger guy (30’s) feels strongly that the wife should turn her husband in.  “A murderer is a murderer and should be punished.” He is only slightly sympathetic to the effect this might have on his young children. The man’s girlfriend and I agree that the wife should leave her husband, but are ambivalent about turning him in.  The older man just listens with amusement. 

And then it’s their stop and they all exit the train. 

A drop dead gorgeous girl, late 20’s and dressed in a magnificent coat, sits down next to me, having heard the entire conversation.  We start talking.  It’s amazing what you can learn in five subway stops.  Her name is Christine.  She graduated Harvard with an English degree.  Had a job in consulting and is now in banking — both at well-known companies.  She knows I have a son at Cornell who is majoring in Economics.  That I had a career in marketing, much of that in television, and recently changed to real estate.  We talk about what’s a good major, what’s a good career path, and so much more that we talk right through our mutual Union Square stop.

At Astor Place we say good-bye.  And then I think I’d like to fix her up with my nephew.  This is something I have never done before.  I google her first name, school, and the two companies where she worked and find her. 

I tell my nephew about Christine and he says yes, he’d call her if I can get her number.  I message her on Facebook, hoping she won’t think I’m some kind of stalking weirdo.  I guess she doesn’t as she gives me her number. I give it to my nephew.  And I now have a new Facebook friend.

Subway rides can be surprising.