The Subway Connection

Jacob always found something about the subway calming. People passing by, with lives to deal with. They have no care for his own. He’s just a stranger to them. They worry about their problems, he worries about his. In a way, in the subway is when Jacob feels the most alone. No pressure from others around him, no attempts to keep attention away from him. Unless he bumps into someone, of course, that’s a whole different story. 

He sits in the same seat every day after school. It’s always open, as if beckoning him. A space he can always come back to. He quickly hops through the train doors and dives into his seat. He made it, and now he can just relax. 

The problem Jacob always faces with the train ride, however, is the time he has to think. There’s too much of it. He often gets lost in his thoughts. He worries about his mother. He gets angry at his father. He tries to stop the thoughts from pouring into his head by staring at the New York skyline, but nothing seems to help. He sees right through those towering skyscrapers to the small apartment on West 97 Street. He sees his mom waiting in anticipation to see who gets home first, her husband or her son. He knows she would much prefer one over the other.

Jacob snaps out of it as he suddenly feels uneasy about something on the train. He glances around, trying to act casual, and notices a man looking over at him from a few seats down. The man is rugged, but looks as if he’d used to be clean and well-kept some years ago. All of his clothing is dirty. Jacob isn’t sure how long it’s been since the man last changed his clothes. Weeks, maybe. The man notices Jacob looking back and quickly averts his gaze. He stares out the window, almost like he’s waiting for Jacob to look away. Jacob gets this odd feeling the man was looking at him for a reason, but what would that reason be? He could be one of those uptight New Yorkers Jacob always accidentally bumps into. Or, Jacob realizes, it’s possible he could be following Jacob because the man wants a favor from him. Jacob tries to shrug the thought away.

Once Jacob’s stop arrives, he quickly darts out the doors to get ahead of the man. He gets up to the sidewalk, looks behind his shoulder and sees no sign of the man. Hurriedly, he makes his way into the bustling crowd.

Jacob walks through the lobby and dashes up the stairs. Before entering his apartment, he puts his ear to the door to see if he can hear any yelling. Nothing. His father must’ve not gotten home yet. 

“Mom?” Jacob asks as he creaks open the door. 

“In here, honey.” 

Jacob walks into the kitchen to find his mom at the oven.

“What’s for dinner?” He asks.

“Burgers. Does that sound good?” Her voice shakes a little. She glances out the window. 

Jacob pauses, debating on whether or not to bring up the subject. 

“When’s dad getting home?” He finally utters. He knows right after the words leave his mouth it might’ve not been the best thing to say.

“Not sure.” His mom says after a long pause. That’s the thing that scares her the most. The uncertainty. “Do you have any homework?” Jacob knows she doesn’t want to talk about her husband.

“Yeah, a little. I’ll go get started on it.”

“Sounds good, honey.”

Jacob goes to his room and sets down his bag. He wishes him and his mom could talk freely, but she’s always afraid to let any opinions she has of her husband break free from inside her. It’s too risky. 

About 3 hours later, Jacob’s father burst through the door. Jacob had learned the pattern of his footsteps, and he could tell by the uneasiness of his steps he’d been other places besides his job. 

“Welcome home, Harold.” Jacob’s mom tries to sound cheery. 

“Can it.” He quickly replies. 

Jacob hears his father slam his work supplies onto the kitchen counter. 

“What’s for dinner, Martha?” He spits the question out like sour candy. 

“Burgers.” She says timidly.

Jacob’s father stumbles around the room, searching all the cabinets. “Where’s the beer?” 

“Oh,” his mother tries to say calm as she realizes what’s going to happen. “You drank it all last weekend, when your friends were over. Remember?” She smiles as if everything is going great.

Jacob’s father slowly stumbles over to her and gets right in her face. Although Jacob couldn’t see it now, he could picture the scene perfectly. He’d seen it plenty of times before.

“And you didn’t get any more?” He mutters, his breath smells just like the alleyways of New York.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t-”

Jacob hears his father’s hand make hard contact with his mother’s face.

“Bitch.” His father mutters.

Jacob notices the man immediately as he gets on the train this time. As the days went by the man had gotten closer and closer to where Jacob normally sits. Jacob attempts to show no sign of recognition, though. He sits down in his seat and keeps to himself. The same thoughts come into his mind as usual. His mother, his father. They all fly by like the thousands of people and buildings outside. One stop away from Jacob’s and the man whispers something in his direction. 

“Hey, kid.” Jacob isn’t an idiot. He knows this man wants something from Jacob that he is not going to give, like every other creep in New York. The only thing that strikes Jacob as odd, however, is that besides the old clothes the man looks like an average man who’d know when to mind his own business like Jacob had learned. “What’s your name?” He tries again. Jacob keeps his eyes forward. Once his stop comes he walks out the door, calmly, but tries hard to avoid the man. He sees the man get out of the train through another door, and walk in the direction Jacob is supposed to go. Jacob pushes through a few people to get ahead of the man, and once Jacob is out of sight of him, he bolts up the stairs. He looks back to see the man at the bottom, looking up at Jacob. Wait, he sees the man mouth. Jacob quickly vanishes into the crowd.

His parents aren’t doing any better that night. Every night his father keeps coming home later and later.

“Where’s Jacob?” He roars. Jacob sits in his room and pretends not to hear him.

“In-in his room, I think.” Jacob’s mother whispers.

Jacob hears his father’s shoes stomp down the hallway to his door.

“Jacob.” His anger can be felt through the door as he knocks. 

“Yeah, dad?” He keeps his voice calm.

“Dinner is ready. Get the fuck out of your room.” His father stands at the door for a moment, heavy breath pouring onto the wood. “We’re going to eat like a goddamn family.” He doesn’t wait for a response, his shoes stumble back down the hallway. 

Jacob slides into his seat across from his mother. His father sits at the head. He’s always sat at the head. He examines the beer in his hand, like it’s a sacred family heirloom.

“Jacob, why haven’t you had a beer yet?”

Jacob has to slowly construct his words to not trigger anything in his father. “Uh, I’m too young to drink.” He politely replies.

“Nonsense, it’s God’s gift.” He gets up and walks towards the kitchen. “Here, I’ll get you one.”

“Harold, I don’t think that’s the best idea. He’s just a-”

Jacob’s father’s hand comes down hard on the table. “Shut the fuck up!” His mother looks back down at her plate, hands placed delicately in her lap. “I wasn’t talking to you.” His father continues into the kitchen and grabs a bottle from one of the six packs lying there.”Jacob’s a big boy.” He pops off the cap, “He can make the decision himself.” He walks back over to the table and shoves the bottle right under Jacob’s nose. “Here, son. Why don’t you have a sip?”

Jacob realizes this is the most attention he’s ever gotten from his father.

“I would really prefer not to, if that’s alright.” The words fly out of Jacob’s mouth like the faster he says them the more likely they are to be approved by his father. Jacob sees the anger begin to boil in him. The unwanted, unnecessary anger he comes home with everyday. And then it slowly fades away.

“Okay. Maybe some other time, then.” He smiles at Jacob. Jacob has never seen that expression on his father’s face before.

After dinner, in his room, Jacob can hear the whimpers of his mother. His father’s love for alcohol was much stronger than his love for his wife. In fact, just about anything is more important to his father than his wife. Jacob decides to go to sleep early that night. Keeping his tears to himself. 

The next day, Jacob finds the man on the train, sitting right next to his usual spot. Jacob would’ve moved somewhere else, but every other seat appeared to be taken. He walks slowly to the seat and sits down. The man eyes him. “I have something for you.” He whispers like he’s giving away a valuable secret. “It’s important.”

Jacob assumes the man is confused. Maybe mixed Jacob up with someone else.

“What’s your name?” He asks again, this time there is a lighter tone in his voice.

“Jacob.” Jacob finally responds.

The man smiles. 

“Last?”

Jacob hesitates. “I’m not sure I should be giving-”

“Is it Thorne?” The man blurts out. 

“Y-yes.” Jacob is in pure shock now.

“Bastard.” The man mutters to himself.

“Sorry?” Jacob asks in confusion. The man is having very strong reactions to all of Jacob’s answers.

He ignores Jacob’s question. “I need you to take this to your mother.” The man holds out a picture. It seems to be the man, but much younger. Back when he was clean. “Martha, right?”

“Yes.” Jacob replies again, still dumbfounded. Who is this man? How does he know so much about Jacob’s family?

“Can you do this for me? Please, it’s important.” Jacob sees the man’s eyes begin to water. There’s something this man is not telling him. It is clearly more important to the man than he’s letting on. Jacob knows this from the amount of times he’s seen the man on the train, waiting there for him. This photo must be delivered. It will save him.

“Yes.” Jacob replies one last time. 

Jacob gets off at his stop, this time not worried about the man. He flips the photo around and sees a phone number etched into the back hurriedly. 

He walks into his apartment to find his mother lying on the ground, crying. He rushes over.

“Mom, what happened?”

“I told him he needs to learn to respect his wife.” She looks up at Jacob. Her makeup is smudged, there is a red hand print across her face. His father is getting out of control. “Big mistake.” She looks back down at her puddle of tears. “He stormed out, muttering more sexist garbage about women staying in their place.” She pauses, gasping for air. “I’m not sure I can take this much longer, Jacob.” 

Jacob pulls the man’s picture from out of his pocket.

“I met a man on the train today, he told me to give this to you.” Jacob holds the picture out for his mother. “He said it was important.” 

“Jacob, you really shouldn’t be talking to stra-” She looks at the picture and her face immediately changes into confusion. “Who gave this to you?”

“I don’t know his name. All he said was to deliver this.”

She takes the picture and a smile grows across her face. That’s the first time Jacob’s seen his mother smile in a long time. He forgot how much it brightens a room.

“John.” She whispers. “He’s still alive.”

Jacob stands there, waiting for an answer. His mother debates whether or not she should tell Jacob about his real father.