The J train doors lumbered open. The rush hour herd exited, but Kathleen froze, pissed, grimacing at the back of the man’s dark navy suit coat. It passed the bored eyes of the platform’s waiting passengers while she traced the cheap seam work down the shoulder to his fat, hairy left hand and its long, unkempt fingernails.
Her jaw clenched. She let go of the rail and slogged through the now boarding New Yorkers, who grunted and shot her annoyed glances, irritated at her tourist-like indecision. It was a common abuse she’d dealt out herself so she bore them no ill-will for their unnecessary shoves and the final “tsk” that celebrated she was off.
But watching the fat man striding away, she seethed. He was so casual and at ease. His fingers twiddled away, and she could tell he was smiling from behind his head. It made her boil. Her eyes darted about for something to pummel him with, and she lamented a lack of a brick or pipe in sight.
Ahead, he bumped into a distracted woman engrossed in her phone, and Kathleen watched as his shoulder leaned into it, purposefully catching the side of her breast. The woman, startled, clasped her phone, happy it didn’t fall and force her into a multi-hour stop on St. Marks for an overpriced screen replacement. She apologized with a profuse,“I’m sorry.” He waved her off, letting her believe her lack of attention was to blame. “S’okay. Rush hour.” he dismissed.
Kathleen roiled at the grin it brought to his filthy mouth when he saw her out of the corner of his eye. She was quickening towards him. His confident gait transposed to a distracted meander. He was obviously calculating, she thought, when two uniformed NYPD officers came up the L train stairs right towards them. Now—she was grinning.
The man hesitated. Kathleen was uncertain what he’d do next. He turned casually towards the 4, 5, 6 lines, but she’d made up enough distance that it only took a brief run before she cut that route off.
“That man assaulted me!” She shouted, pointing at him. He sneered, perturbed at how close he was to escape. The officers rushed towards him, “Stop! You! Stop!”
It was obvious to everyone nearby that he was the object of the officers’ attention. Yet, not until the second one grabbed the back of his suit, that the man acknowledged them.
Turning around, he instantly birthed a dopey expression and pulled out earbuds that weren’t in moments earlier. He beamed a welcoming smile.
It wasn’t the same as the one he’d given Kathleen ten minutes earlier: dried, cracked lips pulled over long, unflossed teeth, and a crooked left incisor. That version revealed itself when she slammed her shoulder into him after his third attempt to run his finger along the crease of her right buttock inside the rammed subway car.
“Rush hour,” he’d smarmily said.
Kathleen told the story, and let her passion reveal the honesty of it. But the man’s eyes never betrayed his practiced lie.
“I’m sorry, miss, that must have been the homeless man next to us. I barely saw you, and was stuck between two tourists from…Finland, I’d guess.” The man proclaimed.
“Liar!”
The ejection of rage cost her the high ground. The first officer turned to her, “Miss, I know you’re upset, but please, calm down.”
“I’m not supposed to be upset?! This man attacked me!”
The next fifteen minutes were just a repeat of the last two until, exasperated, the first officer said, “There aren’t any cameras on that train. I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do.”
With the cops distracted, the man couldn’t help but indulge, and let his real grin return. He served Kathleen a disgusting tongue lick across the front of his teeth before hiding it just as quickly, when she signaled them to look.
His polished charade reappeared, “I’m sorry someone hurt you, miss.” He turned to the officers, “May I go home now?”
They shrugged and stepped aside, allowing him on his way. Kathleen scoffed in disbelief. Around her, strangers walked past who couldn’t care less, and the policemen only offered her their noticeable pity. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.
But she wouldn’t give the man, now whistling as he walked away, the satisfaction. Without another word, Kathleen turned and headed towards the J train and home with a faked look of contented distraction on the outside and an inferno of anger on the inside.