Rodney

In Friday night rush hour, the train was filled with bodies and moving slow. I was pinned up against a wall with my study guide, rejoicing that I had something to lean against that wasn't a person. The car was quiet, except for a young black man in a multi-colored leather jacket. He was giving a derogatory account of his social life to two friends and the whole train, whom he addressed specifically at one point, saying:

"Everyone on this train just needs to have sex right now."

And that was Rodney. A seat near me became vacant at the next station. Rodney asked me if I wanted to sit. Of course I did - desperately, but I didn't want to give him any reason to talk to me about his sex life, so I shook my head. He sat and positioned his knees on either side of my thigh, which wasn't uncouth until more bodies entered the train and sucked up the space between things, leaving me in a slightly embarrassing position. And then the conductor announced that there was traffic ahead and we'd be standing by.

We were stopped for thirty minutes in that train. Rodney couldn't take the silence.

"It's like sardines!" he said, and I laughed. "What you studyin'?" he asked me.
"I have a test tomorrow," I replied.
"What's your test in?"
"It's for my yoga certification."
"Oh, you're gonna be a yoga teacher?" Oh, so sly.
"Yep."
"That's cool. You got a beautiful smile. What's your name?" It was about then that the train shut off, meaning the last ten minutes had been only the beginning.

His name was Rodney. He was studying photography at the community college.
"What kind of photography do you do?" I asked.
"Pornography mostly. But I'm really tryin'-a focus on my music now. I'm an emcee. I just got my YouTube up; you should check it out... Maybe we could even be Facebook friends." That's the thing about pickups these days. They happen online even when you are zero inches away from someone.
"I'm a musician, too," I said, narrowly dodging his 'friend request.'
"Oh yeah? What, you play piano?"
"A little, but mostly I'm a singer. I sing opera."
"No shit? Who's your favorite singer? Beethoven?" I could feel our whole corner of the train snicker.
"Um, I've never heard Beethoven sing. He's actually more famous for his composing."
"Oh right, okay. Man, you got nice, white teeth. You married?" he asked, peeking across my papers toward my mysterious left hand.
"No," I replied.
"Ah, lemme guess, you single?"
"No," I replied. "Actually, it's my boyfriend's birthday on Sunday."
"Wow, you should get him something." Still that sly smile.
"Yeah, I know!" I laughed. "I mean, I did," I replied.
"What'd you get him?"
"Power tools."

It was comical watching Rodney back off in that moment, like a scene from Home Improvement. I may as well have had an escaped convict for a boyfriend. After that, we were just two tired people waiting for the train to move. And then I went home and watched his YouTube.