Thank You to the Woman on the Subway

Prompt: Heroism comes in many forms. Running towards certain death to have a sliver of a chance to save a life, offering nourishment to the starved, giving console to those who need it. Acts of heroism come in many forms, for many people, at many levels of grandeur. Write a heroic act or tale.

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Rachel wrapped her scarf around her neck a little more snugly to ward off the morning chill. The L platform was dotted with figures similarly bundled up against the cold, clutching briefcases and backpacks and to-go cups. A breeze ruffled her hair, pushing strands from one side of her part to the other. She pulled off a glove and raked the strands back into place.

“It looks nice like that,” someone said.

Rachel turned her head at the voice without thinking. A man stood a few steps away, smiling at her above his own scarf.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” Rachel replied.

She returned her attention to the tracks. The train was approaching.

“Heading downtown?” the man asked as the train slid into the platform.

“Yup.”

“Me, too.”

“Mm.”

Rachel felt a little bit of uneasiness rise. She didn’t like talking to anyone in the morning, not even her roommates. Most days, she didn’t say a single word before she arrived at the office. The doors opened, and a few people exited the train around the puddle of commuters waiting to get on. Rachel tried to insert herself into the middle of the puddle, hoping the man would leave her alone. When she got on, though, the man followed her.

“Are you a secretary?” he asked as she headed toward an empty seat.

“No.” She changed directions, looking for a way out of this conversation. None of the other passengers moved or made eye contact with her as the doors closed. Maybe she should’ve gotten off the train?

“Well, hey, don’t be unfriendly. I’m just trying to get to know you,” the man insisted, his face folding into a scowl.

“I’m not –” Rachel started, her heartbeat picking up.

“Can’t even give me the time of day,” he went on, continuing to step closer to her. “What’s the matter? You gay? You got some limp-dick boyfriend at home? Well, let me tell you –”

“Michelle! Oh my gosh, Michelle, is that you?” a woman’s voice cut in.

Once again, Rachel turned to look, a bubble of hope rising in her chest. A woman rose from her seat a few feet away and stepped toward them, reaching out to put a hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you again!” the woman went on. She gave Rachel a nearly-imperceptible wink, and Rachel got the hint.

“You too,” Rachel replied, adopting the woman’s tone of excitement. “How’s life treating you?”

“Oh, same old, same old,” the woman laughed. As she talked, she slowly inched herself between the man and Rachel. “Missing my mom, you know how it is. But life goes on, right?”

Over the woman’s shoulder, Rachel saw the man slink away, curling himself around a pole by the door. They kept on talking, not really saying anything but never letting the conversation die. As the train pulled into Rachel’s stop, she glanced toward the door again and realized that the man was gone.

“Thank you,” Rachel said to the woman. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t…”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman replied. “I couldn’t let a sister get harassed like that and not step in.” She held out a hand as the train slowed to a stop. “Cindy.”

“Rachel.”

“Well, you have a good day, Rachel. Don’t let the bastards get you down.”