The Loose Button

It was only 8:05 in the morning and someone standing near me was giving off an aroma of fried food. Dazed and somewhat awake, staring out into the subway tracks on the lookout for sewer rats (my usual routine), I stood waiting for the second train of my morning commute. From my peripherals, I could see the man next to me was the culprit for this fried food aroma, as he held on to a small bag from Chick-Fil-A. That same hand holding his unhealthy but I’m quite sure delicious breakfast featured a loose button, holding on by a thread (literally), from the sleeve of his tan pea coat.

“Excuse me, do you know if the M train stops at Lexington and 53rd?” Slightly surprised and on the cusp of major blushing, I told the handsome man that it sure did. My energy (I would later learn) was so transparent when I spoke to him that he decided to keep the conversation going.

I never talk to anyone during my morning commutes. No one really talks to you when you’re on the subway, no one. I assumed he wasn’t from NYC, considering he was asking for directions—most New Yorkers I’ve met know the routes for all subway lines. He told me he was born and raised in NYC, but had never taken the M before. We talked about our favorite hobbies in less than three minutes, hopped on the train where I thought the conversation would continue as he strategically made sure he was standing next to me, but it didn’t.

“You were right, it does stop at Lexington,” he whispers to me as he double-checked the marquee on the subway car wall. I had just finished sharing the abridged version of my NYC dream and as we both smiled and laughed uncontrollably at each other and yet we couldn’t find the courage to keep the conversation going. Again, my peripherals were witnessing a lot of fidgeting as he tried to grab something from his pocket as we were coming up at my stop (his stop was after mine). I never felt so inclined to give someone my phone number, like, never. I could hear the voice in my head telling me, “Girl, you don’t even have a pen in your bag!!! How are you going to give him your number and more so, people around are going to be hella staring and you’re going to then turn lobster red. I guess I’ll just wish him a good day and say goodbye. Okay, here’s your stop girl, this is your last chance.” I turned to him and he nervously hands me his card, while the loose button was still holding on to dear life and says, “I’d love to see you again, here’s my number. I hope you have a good day, take care.”

I walked out of the train like I was living in a John Hughes movie, as some basic 80s instrumental song played in the background. Each end of my mouth had hiked up so high as I tried to really understand what just happened. A handsome man approached me on a subway train like something so movie-esque and handed me his card and actually emphasized that he wanted to see me again.

We saw each other a few times. We learned that we both stand for climate change efforts and have worked in some way, shape or form to help the cause. He’s funny and witty, received his masters in Philly, only child. Always asked how I was doing and genuinely meant it.

“Well, I’m gonna get going now. Let me make sure I didn’t forget anything.” (Scans my bedroom for his backpack and other things, as he puts on that tan peacoat.) “Ugh, your loose button on your sleeve has been bugging me since I met you.”

He kissed me on the forehead, “Hahaha really?? You’re funny. Well, do you have a sewing kit? Can you help me out?” I had never been more excited to tell someone I owned a sewing kit. He sat next to me on my sofa as he watched TV and I tightened the darn brown button on the sleeve of his peacoat. Five minutes later, I cut off the end of the string from the needle with my teeth and smiled at him as I proudly showed off his newly sewed button. “Wow, you’re awesome.” (Kisses me on the lips.) I walk him to the front door.

“Text me later to let me know what you end up doing tonight,” he says to me. (Kisses me again.) I watched him walk out of my house and turn to the right as he made his way to the subway station. I never saw him again (not by my choice).

For a split second, the universe gave me the experience I had always daydreamed about. A handsome, charming man approached me on a subway, struck up a conversation that segued into us exchanging information, so it could have potentially lead to something more. The universe gave me that.

I may come off as cynical and jaded when it comes to relationships, but if and when something that seems bonafide comes about, all of the romantic and vulnerable in me appreciates every part of it. I’m not sure what kind of life lesson this was but it sure as hell makes for a good short story.

Maybe he just wanted someone to sew his loose button?