A Subway Miss

His backpack weighed as much as the worries that consumed him, and Trevor carried those as a second body. He couldn’t shake them if he tried. He jostled with the other commuters down the subway stairwell and looked around at his dingy surroundings. Even the train station was depressed. No amount of colorful grafitti could hide its tired look. Cement gray walls, dull metallic rails, scuffed platforms, and dishwater-colored stains greeted waiting passengers. They plugged their ears with ear buds to drown out the monotone voice of the recorded announcements, eyes burrowed towards their cell phones. Trevor believed that most of them stared at nothingness, lost in their own concerns as they bided their time before their homebound trains arrived. He knew that's how he spent the last few months of subway wait time--thinking--mired in burdens that built and dragged him down to the state he was in today. Around him, the aroma of stale urine and old sweat assaulted him. New users found it offensive, crinkling their noses in distaste and disgust, but the regular commuters he stood with today were immune.

Trevor had always noticed the concentrated apartness each commuter held. No one built a connection with his fellow traveller, and today he marveled at the fact that in this underground subway station, each person had more in common with the other than at any other time in the work day; the train would take everyone home. Trevor knew the subway was like an elevator--everyone was forced to exist together united in a common goal of transportation. No one would make a friend in these circumstances. Smiling made other people suspicious. That was okay. Trevor had no intention of smiling or drawing attention to himself. He came here with a mission, and he would succeed.

Facing the empty tracks and listening for the rumble of the approaching train, Trevor pondered the weight in his head. Getting kicked out of college really did seem like the end of the world. As his grades slipped, he just couldn’t seem to pull them up. The farther he slipped, the closer to rock bottom he came. He thought he finally made it there. His failure would shatter his parents, his reputation, and his image. One year ago, he was a high school star, the baseball player beloved by girls and their parents alike, the popular boy who was invited to all the best parties. Trevor thought he had the world by the tail and would ride it to greatness. No one warned him that as a college student, his professors had little time to listen to his excuses or accept his late work, or offer do-overs for failed assignments. Still, he was as popular with the other students as he was in high school, and that popularity granted him access to beer, parties, and girls. However, he couldn’t govern himself or his time. Over the last semester, girls faded away, searching for boys who could balance partying and school. Trevor was hearing about parties after they had passed, a testament that his immature drink-til-you-barf attitude had staled with his peers. The inability to be the Golden Boy knocked him down, and he couldn't get up. He didn’t know how to be anything else. What did he have going for him if not popularity? He wasn’t the smart kid, the geeky-admired kid, the funny kid, the quietly strong kid, or even the best-looking kid. He was the fun-loving kid. Maybe now it wasn’t enough, and Trevor wasn’t sure he was anything more than that. Honestly, that was the scariest thought of all. What if he had nothing to offer the world? He feared he had no substance. After all, he couldn’t plant his feet on solid campus ground and find his bearings as a young college freshman.

It was these thoughts that weighed him down, more than the treasured trophies his backpack cocooned. The objects reflected who he was, and they would go down with him.

Trevor inched closer to the platform edge, subtly glancing around to make sure no one noticed him. He peered down the tracks, so that his behavior mimicked other commuters who also searched for the now-late train. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, knowing he was only a few minutes away from release. His toes hovered over the cement edge, and he could feel his face tingle from anticipation. At least a death here would mean his parents wouldn’t be the ones to find him. He’d never do that to them.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he prepared to launch in front of the approaching train. He could see headlights coming, signalling its nearness and could hear the rumble. Before he could fall forward, his head snapped backward and he found himself upended on his backpack on the cement platform, like a turtle resting upside down on its shell. The train barreled safely into the subway station and Trevor found his knees, stood up, and looked around to address whomever pulled him back. He was stunned that someone even suspected his intentions, much less thwarted them. He wasn't sure if he was mad or relieved, but Trevor knew he had to say something to his "savior." He looked around, but no one stood near, awaiting Trevor's explanation. Passengers made their way onto the subway, no one even looking askance at Trevor. None of the commuters registered the strangeness of what just happened or the proximity of a tragedy they almost witnessed. It was as if no one noticed. But someone had to have pulled him back; he could still feel that superstrong tug on his backpack. Meanwhile, the passenger doors of the train closed, Trevor standing on the platform side of them, his moment of impending death long gone. He knew he couldn’t go through with it now.

His escape from death was a slap in ths face. He had to “man up” and face his failures at school, learn how to grow up and go on. With one last look into the train, Trevor’s eyes locked onto an older man holding the travelling strap in the aisle. The man tipped his weather-worn, stained hat Trevor’s way, holding his fist up in a universal “Be Strong” sign. Then he placed both hands together as if in prayer, pointed his fingers towards his own eyes then to Trevor’s. Message received: “I’m watching you.” An amber glow illuminated his body, and his beaming smile pierced Trevor's heart. Before Trevor’s wide-open eyes, the man just disappeared into thin air, the subway car slowly pulling out of the station, the empty strap swaying with the motion of the train.