Subway Stalkers
by Tessa Aldridge
A man waves, but Sage ducks to avert his gaze. Instead of allowing her to pass by, he moves closer. The next time he waves, it’s three inches from her face.
“Do you go to Equinox?” The man with creamy, pale skin dressed in a Jets jersey and black cotton shorts says and smiles. His eyes don’t match. Sage nods, adjusting the tightness of her hood. She has just finished running five miles on the treadmill, and despite the New York winter, she is warm enough from sweat in only a matching White Fox blue tracksuit. The man is trying for his third time to get her attention, regardless of the hood covering her face and the Air Pods blasting Taylor Swift in her ears.
She tries to rush past him, think of anything from the self-defense classes she took five years ago. Her mother always said she couldn’t move to the city unless she knew how to protect herself. Ignoring strangers is always the first step, but she has never had someone badgering her so hard. Even the guy who flashed her in Starbucks two years ago left her alone after thirty seconds when she paid no attention to him and focused on a client portfolio and her white mocha latte. None of this would ever have happened back in Wisconsin, but she also wouldn’t have been able to find a job as a publicist. Or afford Equinox.
“I’ve been thinking of joining, but not sure if it’s worth the price.” He doesn’t end with a question this time, so Sage hopes that this is where the conversation will die. Maybe he took the hint and will move on past her now. Or, maybe she could put her marathon training to good use and sprint if he says something else.
The New York City Marathon was about a month ago, and she started training for 2024 the day after because of her raging FOMO. And surprisingly, she stuck to it. In four weeks, she has gone from barely being able to walk three miles to running five miles in under an hour. It isn’t that impressive to some, but she has changed a lot very quickly. Her body has reaped the benefits as well. She went from a size 10 to a size 8 in a month. All of that clingy body fat slid right off, partially from the exercise, but she has also worked on changing her diet around. It is easier to run with Sweetgreen for dinner than McDonald’s.
“Do you like working out there? I haven’t seen you around before. I just started a couple months ago, but sometimes after a long day . . .?” The man’s words snap her back into reality. He is still following her. She was planning to walk to Bryant Park from the Grand Central Equinox, instead of taking the 7 train. Working on the east side is difficult with living on the west, but a gym she loves so close to work makes up for it.
“It’s nice,” she says. The man looks friendly enough, but there is no way he was coincidentally heading in the same direction as her. She suddenly regrets wearing a sports bra, although there is not much to show off. She used to go to a Planet Fitness back in high school, and she never would’ve considered working out without a long enough shirt to cover her ass. She assumes if gym-goers are paying multiple hundred dollars a month for a luxury gym, that there will be less oogling. Guess she was wrong.
“Are you training for a race?” His questions continue, albeit, innocent enough. He tugs on his gray beanie to cover his ears. They are almost to the subway, so she is hoping that maybe he is lonely and just looking to make conversation after a long day.
“Hopefully.” She isn’t stupid enough to relax, and as they descend down the stairs, she tries to wave him off and tell him to have a nice night. She pushes her body through the turnstile. He is still right behind her.
“I’m Alex, and you are?”
Fuck. He isn’t stopping, and now he wants to know her name. He sticks his hand out, and she reluctantly shakes it, afraid to piss him off. She knows she shouldn’t keep going along with this, but she is alone and it is late and what would he do if she made him angry?
“Sage, like my eyes, but listen I really need to go—” she points towards the downtown B train approaching, and he cuts her off.
“Oh, you live downtown too? That’s funny, same here. What’s your stop?” He waits next to her as a packed cart empties, and she attempts to find a seat. But as she does, he smiles at her, waiting patiently. Sage slumps down by a window, there’s a mother with three young boys taking up the other seats, so Alex has to hold onto the metal railing. There’s some space between them now, but the mother is so caught up in her children, she must not notice any awkward tension.
“West Fourth,” she whispers, thinking maybe he won’t hear. But his smile grows, and she knows that was the wrong answer. Why didn’t she say a random stop in Brooklyn? Why can’t she feel her pepper spray in her hoodie pocket?
“Same here. I used to go to NYU and then just never left the area.” He whips off his gloves as he continues to speak, but none of the words register with Sage. She can see his mouth moving, but her head spins. Will he insist on walking her all the way home? How is she going to ditch him? Can none of the other passengers see her panic? Or do they not care? Her eyes feel as though they are going to pop out of her face by how wide they open in the direction of others, but everyone else is consumed by their own thoughts.
The doors slide open as they approach the platform, and he gestures for her to lead the way. And all Sage can think about is how she should’ve ignored him, never given him a chance to grab her attention. She takes the southwest exit, as Alex proceeds behind her. He complains about the lack of snow this year. Her mind drifts in and out of solutions. Is now a good time to sprint? Can she fake a phone call? Will a stranger pretend to be her long-lost best friend? They walk a block forward, and while she should turn right, she goes left.
“Look, my fiancée is waiting for me so—” Alex’s eyes shift down towards Sage’s bare hand. A devious look crosses his eyes. He doesn’t believe her. A blink, and it’s gone. He nods and chews on his bottom lip.
“Sure, well, I bet I’ll see you around soon.” He nods again and walks in the opposite direction. Sage pants and tries to catch her breath as she walks away, turning her head around every two seconds to make sure he’s still heading away from her. On the third look back, he’s disappeared. But Sage knows better than to believe she’ll never see him again.
Tessa Aldridge is the author of The Psycho In My Heart and The Ones In The Background. She lives in New Jersey where she is currently pursuing her Masters of Fine Arts.