Better late than never

"No, no, no, no, NO!" I ran onto the platform, utterly out of breath. So far that morning – no, only since arriving at the 'L' station – my skirt caught in the turnstile, my bag ripped, my quarterly reports flew into the slush and snow, and my tights were stained. I clutched my laptop for dear life, but even that felt tenuous at best.

    I watched as the train, the last rush hour train to the marketing firm I worked for, sped off. Not only was I late, but I was also screwed. I'd rescheduled this presentation so many times with every excuse no one would believe me. At this point, I should have given up and looked for a new job. 

    Trudging down the steps, I looked back as the train clickety-clacked out of sight around a bend. In my daze, I crashed into someone, and my laptop went skittering on the icy sidewalk into a bank of dark grey snow. 

    My chest hurt from the impact, and my last strings of patience with myself snapped, but I contained the anger... in my lungs. Someone asked if I was ok as people passed us on the sidewalk, splashing more dirty slush over me. 

    “Do I look like I’m freaking ‘ok’?” I screamed, feeling a sob bubble up. 

    “Alex?” 

    Oh. My. GOD! No! 

    This was even worse than missing my train, potentially losing my job, AND being covered in icy sidewalk dirt. 

    I ran – literally – into my ex-boyfriend. 

    He'd stretched his hand down to help me, but I brushed it away. "Daniel," I growled, trying not to get stepped on as I crawled to my cracked laptop. 

    “You ok?” he asked again. 

    I was going for a death glare when he tried to hide a smirk. 

    “Right,” he sighed. “You late for work?” 

    “I’m… just… fine,” I said, back to clutching the laptop and dusting ice chunks off my coat and skirt before I stood again. 

    “Yes. I got that.” He placed a gentle hand on my arm and moved me out of the flow of foot traffic. “You’re… running late?” 

    I… was ruining everything in my life since I’d broken up with Daniel. Nothing in my life was good enough for him. I’d run from him faster than the train left me behind on the platform. 

    Probably the first dumb mistake that had snowballed into the last five months of my life. 

    “Where are you working? I’ll give you a lift.” Daniel pointed at his taxi. He must have just dropped someone here at the ‘L’ station, or… maybe he was looking for a fare and… 

    Another taxi driver up the street waved at Daniel, which made him heave a heavy sigh. Both cabs were from the same company, so I was confused why Daniel hid the swearing under his breath. 

    “What’s wrong with you?” I asked before I could put up the filter. 

    “Friendly wager,” he snapped and opened the back door of his cab. “You want that ride or not?” 

    *****

    By some miracle, I held onto my job. My boss had a change in her schedule and needed to move our client meeting, so by the time I got in, she'd told me to go home and get changed. And if I was home, I might as well work from there for the day. 

    I recognized the scramble of papers as I passed. People were popping up en masse to see if I’d been fired. Ha! Jokes on them! 

    My boss, the most put-together, sweetest woman I'd ever known, peered out her door and came careening down the aisle of cubicles to meet me at the elevator. "Alexandra?" she called quietly. "Make sure you're dressed… uh…" 

    “I’m telling you, the turnstile ate my skirt and…” 

    "Just… be careful. Maybe catch a ride-share or taxi tomorrow. I promise this meeting won't get rescheduled again." The look she gave me screamed 'last chance,' and I was listening loud and clear. 

    The word taxi haunted me. Goodness, Daniel was haunting me.

    Early (for me) the following day, I woke, dressed in the only suit I had left, and stared at the empty spot on my desk where I kept my laptop. The poor thing was unsalvagable. I'd brought it to an electronics store, and I could tell they were trying really hard not to laugh at me. I'd talked to my boss, and she assured me that at least now I'd get a brand-new laptop. Apparently, that laptop had been a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down. 

    Instead of rushing, I walked through the morning rush hour, clutching my purse instead of my now-shredded laptop bag. The streets were freshly salted but otherwise dry. Very little slush splashed from the cars. At the 'L' station, I scanned my pass and slammed into the turnstile. I swiped again; the same thing happened as a line started forming, and I heard the rumble. 

    “No!” Not again, I thought.

    The train was already at the station, and again… it was the last train for rush hour. 

    People grumbled louder, and if I didn't move soon there'd be a riot. Not a moment after I stepped to the side, my phone pinged with a text message. 

    Daniel: Need a ride? 

    There, on the street behind me, was Daniel and his taxi with the light over the cab off. Instinctively, I ran my fingers through my hair. 

    Two days in a row? 

    I looked down at the pass in my keychain wallet and back at Daniel. Yesterday hadn't been so bad. And he didn't even charge me for the ride. The least I could do was pay him for the trip to my office today. 

    Before I could cross the sidewalk, Daniel ran around and opened the taxi door. 

    Whoever his buddy the day before had been, he was back. A taxi parked only a few feet from Daniel's, switching its light off as a person entered the back seat. And also, casually flipping the bird to Daniel through the driver's window was the push I needed to ask, "Who is that?" 

    "Tim. He thinks every time we're waiting at the same place for a fare, it's a contest. Just ignore him. Hop in."

    He rushed back around to the driver's seat and turned into traffic. 

    “So… uh… what have you been up to?” Daniel tried to make small talk. 

    I noticed the meter wasn’t running and tapped on the window. “Come on! Turn it on! I owe you for yesterday. And you can get back at ‘what’s his name’ – Tim – and…” 

    “Not for you,” Daniel answered, leaving me stunned as he pulled to a stop at the next light. “Alex?” he asked, filling a suddenly awkward silence. 

    My throat went dry. “Yeah?” I responded, but I wasn’t sure why he was staring so much at me through the rearview mirror. 

    “Why’d we break up? You never… well…” 

    “Oh,” I gasped, then clutched the end of my skirt. “Um…” 

    What the hell am I supposed to say? I'm not ever going to be good enough for you? I didn't fit in with your perfect family and your perfect sister-in-law, and nothing I did would ever compare. 

    “Did I do something…?” 

    “No!” I squealed. Suddenly I slapped my mouth shut. “No, you… didn’t do anything. I…” 

    “Wow, I get the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech five months later?” 

    “Daniel,” I groaned and buried my face in my hands. 

    Maybe I could dive out of the taxi while it was moving. Traffic was pretty slow. I could probably do it and not hurt myself. 

    “I just thought things were going so well.” 

    "They were," I admitted quietly. 

    Ah, the terribly uncomfortable silence that filled the taxi while Daniel pulled across the intersection to the next red stop light was unbearable. I thought about saying something, but… what? 

    “A-are you seeing anyone?” Daniel’s voice could barely be heard over the ambient din of the city. 

    “No,” I sighed. Big mistake getting in the damn car. 

    I sniffed, attempting to hide what was becoming a dangerous wobble in my voice. God, I missed Daniel! 

    “Hey, Alex?” His eyes met mine in the mirror while we kept waiting for the light to change. “You always take the 8:48 train to get to work.” 

    “How do you know that?” I kept my eyes on his. “Have you been…?” 

    "I drop my dad off at the train. You remember I live a block away, right? I always see you. Usually, though, I'm catching a fare, and… it doesn't matter. Alex? I want to know what went wrong. Could we… maybe talk over dinner?" 

*******

    "Are you seriously saying you might not have gotten married to dad if you didn't miss the train?" Ainsley's complaints sound so much like me that it's scary. 

    "Gross. Can we stop talking about mom and dad doing gross stuff, please?" Thomas gripes, but I knew he was listening intently and even saw a smile flicker. 

    "It's all true," Daniel said, plopping next to me on the couch with a massive bowl of popcorn. 

    “I think it’s romantic,” our oldest daughter, Rosie, said quietly. 

    But Daniel had to ruin the moment, planting a kiss on my forehead. Thomas made a puking motion, and Ainsley gagged while Rosie grinned. 

    “Someone put on the movie before my eyeballs melt!” Thomas groped around for popcorn, throwing a handful at us. 

    "Alright, alright," Daniel said and snuggled in closer.