The Mare

Ginger

She was strange on the train, like she didn’t quite know me. I felt awkward, too; I didn’t know what to talk about with her. She was restless in her seat, asked me twice how long it was going to take to get there, was saying she was bored before we were even out of the station. I thought, An easy way to play at being a parent; my heart felt cold.

Then she said an amazing thing. We were leaving the city and she was looking out the window at the buildings across the water. Her lips were parted slightly and she had that dreamy look on her face. Then her expression changed abruptly and she turned to me and asked if it was true that they were planning to put a new building at Ground Zero that was even taller than the World Trade Center. And I said yes, that’s what they were talking about. She said, “That is the stupidest thing I ever heard. That will just make them want to knock it down again.” So I said, “But that’s why they want to do it. To show we’re not afraid of being knocked down.” And she said, “Are you kidding me? Everybody in New York City is afraid. You should not build to be what you are not.”

And I was so proud of her. I didn’t care what that asshole Becca said. I was just proud to be with her, and I told her so. She smiled huge and then, shyly, looked out the window again. She was still quiet, and it was still awkward — but it was the awkwardness of people who love each other and don’t know how to show it yet.