The Septa to Glenside

“ Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!”

I studied their body language with subtle aggravation as they kept nervously flicking the elastic band that held together a bunch of disheveled, coffee-stained pages of a well-used notebook. I had just pulled a 60-hour work week and still had to ride the Septa bus for an hour just to get home. So, that constant “Thwack-ing” of the elastic band around that notebook did not ease my already over tired, and over stimulated mind. I opened my mouth to give a piece of my mind, just as the bus came to a harsh stop, thrusting the contents out of their bag, and the notebook, out of their hands. As I reached over to help pick up the books, an incredibly soft hand, with the most beautiful melanin skin tone I’ve ever seen, collided gently with mine. I studied their perfect hands awkwardly, they noticed my being creepy and quickly retracted their raw cuticle, nail polish chipped, yet perfectly long, piano-fingered hand, away from mine. I looked up.

My eyes were met by… how can I explain it? Have you ever been to the Caribbean? You know if you go like…. 10 feet underwater and look up at the surface, and the sun mingles perfectly with the ascended blue water, making an intoxicating color green? That, THAT is what my eyes were met with. Without even thinking about breaking my admittedly stalkerish stare, I (reluctantly) handed them the little black notebook I picked up. “Thanks” they said, in a kind of kittenish, and uninterested way, seeing as they immediately turned back around. I smiled, “You’re welcome…..” I trailed off, waiting for them to fill in the “your name” part of the statement. They turned around, the sun hit those eyes like a bat hitting a fastball directly center over home plate. The sun further revealed a beautiful dark complexion, harvesting the most prominent freckles I think I’ve ever seen, and when they muttered their name they reluctantly flashed the most adorable gapped teeth. That feeling of ecstasy was quickly terminated by them answering my question with “ uhhh… Steve?” My face fell to a frown, did they just lie to my face? This beautifully androgenous gift from god did not want to partake in a dialogue with me, as they are far too other-worldly to have a name like “Steve”, although at this point I was just happy to have them give me the time of day, lies and all.

I sat back and crossed my manicured hands in my lap and rested my head against the bus window, watching the snow capped buildings pass my gaze as I drifted off, dreaming of Steve’s ocean like eyes. “THWACK” no, not the notebook this time, the subway stopped short yet again, sending my freshly blown out hair-do and “Steve” filled noggin, right into the empty seat in front of me. What a terrible way to wake up from a perfectly good nap…. WAIT. Empty seat in front of me?! I anxiously looked around, like a lost puppy, but alas, Steve had vanished.

As I reached down for my briefcase, I noticed something under the seat. Oh! Maybe it was Steve’s. I pull it out from underneath, exposing a brown paper wrapped gift, whatever this was, it was heavy as hell! I was going to give it to the conductor, but now that I know its possibly Steve’s, maybe I could be like.. a good Samaritan or something and locate Steve directly. You know, do the community as a whole a due diligence. I would pretty much justify seeing Steve again in any way I could, even at the expense of being a little narcissistic about my false motives. They called my stop, so I iron out my wrinkled skirt with the palms of my hands and gingerly put the package in my briefcase, and walked to the platform.

I stepped off the bus, the cool Philadelphia wind hit my face like a southpaw jab from Mr. Tyson himself, leaving me in a state of shock. I gathered my bearings and made my way to the “Beans -n- Teas” coffee house to try to warm my frozen fingers with a peppermint chai latte. The train only takes me to my apartment’s nearest bus station, so I still need an uber to take me the rest of the way home. I decided it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have to wait in a warm coffee house, as I needed to finish up some spreadsheets for work anyways. I mean, I did just start my staycation, so I figured I’d tie up some loose ends before I devote my life, I mean, my weeks staycation, on finding “Steve”. I mindlessly open my laptop and began to type in “Facebook” because Steve is living rent free in my Frontal Lobe and I decided that finding Steve is way more important than work. But while I am here I may as well write a vague status about how “I’ll be signing off for a while” or “I hope everyone enjoys the holidays with their families, as my dog and I will enjoy a quiet week alone”. I know, I know, its sad, but Remington just, gets me. We both love food, naps, and we’d do unthinkable things for attention.

I decide to take a quick scroll to see if anyone I know, but don’t particularly care about, is doing anything noteworthy that I can despise them for; Like, getting engaged, or taking Christmas photos with their animals where everyone has matching plaid pajamas, I mean, come on, gross…. Right?

I sip my latte and believe me when I say, this was a piping hot cup of freshly brewed serotonin. I took a heavy sigh and started scrolling, mumbling to myself “Oh, Charlotte finally had her baby, its about freaking time. In all caps I read “On December 22nd, Pamela Jane Schroeder was brought into this world” I almost spat my latte all over the screen as I quietly chuckled to myself “I have literally never met a baby named Pamela” I continued giggling as I scrolled “Oh, Scotty is ahead in his fantasy football, thank Goodness I know that pertinent and unremarkably fascinating detail” I rolled my eyes and saw right under Scotty’s post, was an ad, “ A highly recommended Moleskine Notebook” I read aloud, “Equipped with…” I chuckled and said in my best radio voice” A handy- Dandy elastic band!” I assume those bands are primarily used to keep all your pages uniformed and wrinkle free, but for Gods Favorite creation, it’s a way to audibly express anxiety. “Okay Elle, Stay Focused!” I set myself straight. Okay, lets search for anyone named Steve in a 50-mile radius, and see what we got. My eyes widened as I looked at the screen, 1,152 matches? I take another swig of my latte and reach down to grab the package left on the bus, maybe it has a clue to who Steve is to narrow down this search. I put it to my nose and took a deep breath in and… wait.. am I seriously smelling this unknown, potentially dangerous package, left by someone I don’t know, but am in love with? What a creep. The paper at first smells of patchouli and, Frankincense maybe? I catch a tear in the paper, so I look at it a little closer, Mr. Benjamin Franklin himself! But why would there be… I rip it a little more and immediately, and not so inconspicuously, shove it back into my briefcase. I make a beeline for the bathroom. I lock the door behind me, wrestle out the package and rip that sucker open like a Christmas gift. I am not exaggerating when I tell you I almost died of a coronary in the “Beans -n- Teas” bathroom; Now I’m no math wiz, but this had to be like, a million dollars. “Steve” I said to myself “You sly little fox, What are you up to.”

My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket, my uber driver has arrived; I stash the money (that the mob probably killed someone over) back in my briefcase, laid down the static hairs on my spinning head, and clicked my heels to the door. I basically dead weight myself in the back of the uber, and then think to verify “You’re here for Elle, right?” “Mhm” mutters the driver, a real wordsmith, clearly; The only real enthusiasm this guy had was that of popping his gum to the music. He pulls up to my apartments and yells “Last call for Delancey Street!” I rolled my eyes, read the room dude, humor would’ve been cool before you became immensely annoying. I slammed the door behind me and trudged up the stairs to my apartment where Remington was waiting, definitely more excited to see me than that uber driver was. I pat him on the head and say “Detective Elle and her trust hound on their first official investigation!” I laugh while kicking off my heels, sliding my feet into some fuzzy slippers and throwing on my very best moo-moo. I pour a glass of Cabernet while studying the SEPTA schedule, attempting to narrow down which stop "Steve" got off on. After thorough investigation (and a half a bottle of wine), I narrowed it down to 2 stops, Jenkintown and Glenside. I chugged what was left in my glass and decided now was a good time to count the money.

All I could remember when I woke up was writing a note and regretting that wine. I put my feet on the warm carpet and feel paper beneath my toes. I pick it up and read “Twenty thousand Bukaroonies!!!” Drunk me counted $20,000 that belonged to Steve, which made me more determined to get out of bed and start my day. I hopped in the shower to wash off the stench of Steve’s rejection, and this nasty hangover so I could begin my journey to find Steve. I stacked the money in my backpack and realized drunk me missed something, a small white notecard that read “Now we’re even” signed “S” How cryptic and vague.

Today was much warmer, so I decided to walk to the bus station, first stop, Glenside. The whole ride I am thinking how this is impossible and I am wasting my time, I’m chasing a fantasy, my mind conjured all negative thoughts. “Glenside, next stop Glenside” shouted the conductor; I rise from my seat and prepare to exit onto the platform, when I see Nancy from work, at that same stop. “Shit” I mumbled under my breath. I ran off the platform trying to avoid her when she calls my name “Hey Elle!” I have never walked so fast in my life. I spun around to make sure she’d gone when I ran into a little girl, knocking her over. She began to cry, so I scooped her up and brought her inside the orphanage she was jump roping in front of. “Excuse Me!” I shouted, still holding the little girl with a scraped knee. Around the corner walked an angel in the flesh, “STEVE?” I said astonished as I set the girl down. “I’ve been looking for you all my life, I mean, all day!!” Steve was visibly uncomfortable, so I broke the tension and handed over the backpack “This yours?” I muttered with a little swag. Steve went on to tell me that growing up at the orphanage was hard, and giving back was a lifelong goal. Steve entered a writing contest and was donating the prize money to the orphanage. We talked for hours, where I learned Steve’s name was actually Sloan! What beautiful name, it went so well with mine! In fact, it flowed so well together, that Every year my holiday Christmas post reads, “From my family to yours” with a photo attached, of Me, Remington, and Sloan, all in matching plaid pajamas.