FEEL LIKE SPRING
by Milton Kaplan
I stop t he corner drugstore for a breakfast and coffee,and then I
racee to the subway station and gallop down he steps to catch my usual train.I hold on to
the srap and make believe I'm reading my newspaper,but I keep glancing at the people
crowded in around me.I listen to thhem alk abou their troubles and heir ffriends,and I
wish I had someone to talk to,someone to break the monottony of thhe long subway ride.
As we approach the 175th Street station,I begin to get tense agaain.She
usually gets into the train at that station.She slips in graceefully,not pushing or
shoving like the test,and she squeezes into a little space,clinging to the people and
holding on to an office envelop that probably conains her lunch.She never carries a
newspaper or a book;Iguess there isn't much sense in trying to read when you're smashed in
like that.
There's a fresh outdoor look about her and I figure she mustt live in
New Jersey.The Jersey crowd gets in at that stop.She has a sweet facee with that scrubbed
look that doesn't need powde or rougee.She never wears make-up except for lipstick.And her
wavy hair is nauraal,just a nice light brown.And all she does is hold on to the pole and
think her own thoughts,her eyes clear-blue and warm.
I always like to watch herr,but I have to be carefful.I'm affraid she'd
gert angry and mover away if she catches me t it ,and then I won't have nyone,because
she's my only real ffriend,even if she doesn't know it.I'm all alone in New Yorrk City and
I guess I'm kind of shy and don't make friends easily.The fellows in the bank are all
right but they have their own lives to lead,andbesides,I can't ask anyone to come up to
afurnished room;so they go their way and I go mine.
The city is getting me.It's too big and noisy----too many people for a
fellow who's all by himself.I can't seem to get used to it .I'm used to the quiet of a
small New Hampshire farm but there isn't any future on a New Hamshire farm any more;so
after I was discharged from he Navy ,I apply for this position in the bank and I got it.I
suppose it's agood break but I'm kind of lonesome.
As I ride along ,swaying to the motion of the car, I like to Imangine
that I'm friends with herr. Sometimes I'm even emptted to smile at her,and say something
like "Nice morning,isn't it?"But I'm scared.She might think I'm one of those
wise guys and she'd freeze up and liik right through me as if I didn' exist,and the the
next morning she wouldn't be there any more an I'd have no one to think about.I keep
dreaming that maybe some day I'll get to know her.You know ,in a casual way.
Like maybe she'd br coming through the door and someone pushes her and
she brushes against me and she'd say quicky, "Oh, I beg you pardon,"and I'd lift
my hat politely and answer, "That's perfectly all right,"and I'd smile to show
her I meant it ,and then she'd smile back at me and say , "nice day,isn't it
?"and I'd say, "Feel like spring."And we wouldn't say anything more,but
when she'd be ready to ger off at 34th Street,she'd wave her finger a little at me and
say, "Good-by,"and I'd tip my hat again.
The next morning when she'd come in, she'd see me and say
"Hello,"or maybe, "Good morning,"and I'd answer and add something to
show her I ready knew a little about sping.No wise crack because I wouldn't want her to
think that I was one of those smooth-talking guys who pick up girls in the subway.
And after a while , we'd get a little friendlier and start talking
about things like the weather or the news ,and one day she'd say , "isn't it
funny?Here we are talking every day and we don't even know each other's name."And I'd
stand up straight and tip my hat and say , "I'd like you to meet Mr. Thomas
Pearse."And she'd say very seriously , "How do you do,Mr. Pearse .I want you
meet Miss Elizabeth Altemose."
"Thomas,"she'd say,as if she were trying out the sound of it.
"What?"I'd ask.
"I can't possibly call you Thomas,"she'd say, "It's so
formal."
"My friends call me Tommy,"I'd tell her.
"My friends call me Betty."
And that's the way it would be.Maybe after a while I'd mention the name
of a good moive that was playing at the Music Hall and suggest that if she weren't doing
anything in particular----
And she would come right out with, "Oh,I'd love it!"I'd knock
off a little earlier and meet her where she worked and we would go out to dinner
somewhere.I'd ask some of the men at the bank for the name of a good restaurant.And I
would talk to her and tell her about New Hampshire and maybe mention how lonesome I
got,and if it's a really nice place and it's quiet and cozy, maybe I'd tell her how shy I
was,and she'd be listening with shining eyes and she'd clasp her hands and lean over the
table until I could smell the fragrance of her hair and she'd whisper, "I'm shy
,too."Then we'd both lean back and smile secretly,and we'd eat without saying much
because ,after all, what's there to say after that?
And after the movie,I'd take her home.She wouldn't want me to travel
all the way out. "I live in New Jersey,"she'd say. "It's nice of you to
offer to take me home but I couldn't ask you to make a long trip like that.Don't
worry,I'll be all right."But I'd take her arm and say, "Come on.I want to take
you home.I like New Jersery."And we'd take the bus across the George Washington
Bridge with the Huston River flowing dark and mysterious below us, and then we'd be in New
Jersey and we'd see the lights of small homes and she'd invite me in but I'd say it was
too late and then she'd turn to me and say, "Then you must promise to come for dinner
this Sunday."And I'd promise and then---
The train is slowing down and the people are bracing themselves
automatically for the stop.It's the 175th Street station.There's a big crowd waiting to
ger in.I look out anxiously for her but I don't see her anywhere and my heart sinks,and
just little flowers on it.The door opens and the people start pushing in.She's caught in
the rush and there's northing she can do about it.She bangs into me and she grabs the
strap I'm holding and hangs on it for dear life.
"I beg you pardon,"she gasps.
My hands are pinned down and I can't tip my hat but I answer politely,
"That's all right."
The door close and the train begins to move.She has to hold on to my
strap;there isn't any other place for her.
"Nice day ,isn't it?"she says.
The train swings around a turn and the wheels squeling on the tails
sound like the birds singing in New Hampshire.My heart is pounding like mad.
"Feels like spring,"I say.