I sink into a big front-facing seat on the left side of the train, as far away from the other passengers as possible. I love to watch the Hudson and the trees. It’s nighttime, so I’ll only be able to see the glistening reflection of moonlight and silhouettes, but sometimes that’s even better than the real thing.

Grabbing my ticket from my purse, I hold the paper in my hand as the train doors beep and close. I barely made the last train out of the city. Three more minutes and I would have missed it.

I know why I’m off-kilter today, why I couldn’t force myself to smile for too long. Why I couldn’t even try to convince myself that I could see myself with Colin. Resting my head against the cool glass of the window, I close my eyes as the train lurches forward and races into the tunnel under the river. The conductor names the next stop. I could recite the names of these stops in my sleep.

I just couldn’t stay any longer. I’m relieved I was able to get out of there without causing a scene, but I’m not going to be any happier going home.

It’s time for Travis to get out. I’ve been tracking his sentence the whole time.

And the whole time, I’ve waited for him to reach out to me.

He never did.

Tears stab behind my eyes as I squeeze them shut before opening them when I hear the ticket-taker click his metal hole-puncher. I smile softly at him as he takes my ticket and slips it into the tab at the front of my seat.

I haven’t been on this train in so long. I took it to the city when I had an internship during college, and I stopped taking it afterwards. I decided that I liked the country better.

Travis going away made me question everything. I thought he was with me all night. I could have sworn to it. But he confessed to committing the robbery the night of his mom’s wake. I knew in my heart that he was innocent, but he took the blame and that was that.

Innocent men never take the fall, my dad had told me, and he had over twenty years of experience. Guilty men either take blame or try to shift it to someone else, my dad said. Innocent men never have anyone else to blame. They don’t need to. And if they’re falsely accused, they’ll say so.

But my dad’s mind was made up long ago. Years ago.

Travis’ release date was part of the public record. So I tracked it.

And it was all an exercise in futility, because what was the point? He shattered my heart, and there’s no way to rationalize what he did.

He left me all on my own with a ring in my pocket I couldn’t wear.

I close my eyes again, and all I can see is red. I don’t even know if he’s coming back home after all of this. He’d better not. And if he does, I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him to come near me. I don’t want him to cross that lawn and come to my front door ever again.

I don’t want him to pull back his curtain and wave to me from his window.

I don’t want him to say my name into the dark like he used to.

But I crave it. I still do. Late at night, when I can’t sleep, the feeling he used to give me creeps into the edges of my consciousness. The memory of him still does something to me. It makes me angry and confused, because the memories feel so good. And I search for him inside my mind. I long to touch him, for him to touch me.

I slide my hand down into the inside zipper compartment of my purse and slip the ring onto my left hand. I can’t stop myself.

This is messed up.

I am messed up.

* * *

“Get in, you!” My best friend, Sarah, honks her horn and hangs out her window, both of her hands waving wildly.

I walk steadily down the ramp away from the train platform and into the parking lot, careful to not fall in my borrowed shoes. I should have packed my sneakers to change into, but my mom would have told me that an oversized tote bag didn’t go with my outfit.

I wave to Sarah, stepping around a few slushy puddles to get into her car. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she pushes her natural blonde hair back and smirks. She bends to grab something from the back seat of the car, closing one of her eyes and sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, and pulls my gray Converse sneakers out of the back seat.

“Here,” she says, shoving them onto my lap. “Get out of those shoes and put these on.”

I sigh and shrug my shoulders, attempting to shake off the day. Sarah knows what day it is, but we haven’t said anything about it to each other yet. It’s been unspoken. That’s what a good friend she is.

Sarah and I are opposites in some ways, but in the ways that matter, we’re just the same. We became friends when she came to my school on the first day of third grade and sat behind me because our last names are alphabetically adjacent. She started braiding my hair without asking, and we’ve been friends ever since.

“Thank you,” I say, sliding my feet out of the heels and pulling the sneakers on. “That’s much better.”

“So was this shindig thing really that bad? A bunch of hunky cops around? Any NYPD?” She throws the car into drive and lurches out of the parking lot. “You know they have good pensions, right?”

“Ha,” I say mockingly. “That’s exactly what I’m after. A hot guy with a big pension.”

“And a big something else,” she says, checking her rear view and glancing over at me with a smile. She senses my annoyance. I don’t mean it to, but I roll my eyes. I try to restrain myself, but I can’t help it. “Come on, it was a joke.”

“For your information, it was that bad.”

I look out the window, at the familiar roads, houses and shops rolling past. Travis must have seen all of this today, too. It feels eerie that he’s back in town, feeling the same chill and looking at the very same sky as me. But I try to push it all down. I try to put it away.

“So, what did Colin do now?” Sarah pulls the car over into the parking lot of the bowling alley and cuts the lights. “Huh?” she adds, pulling out her matte dark red lipstick and painting her mouth with it.

I look through the windshield and see the marquee of the bowling alley glowing down at us. The glass absorbs the reflection of the light, and it’s like I’m seeing double: one welcome sign for right this instant, and one for all my memories. It’s like it’s mocking me.

“We aren’t staying, are we?” I look down at my dress again, now paired ridiculously with a pair of old beat-up sneakers.

“Um, yeah,” Sarah says, flipping her mirror visor up and wrapping her coat around her. “This is the only place on the way home to get a drink. And you, my lady, need one.”

I swallow the hard lump forming in my throat.

“Why are we really here?” I ask, my hands down in my lap, both of my thumbs gliding over the other nervously. “I don’t want to risk seeing him.”

“Shit. I know. That’s my bad.” She puts her hands on the steering wheel and turns the engine off. “I guess I just thought...well, I know it’s the day he was getting out. I guess I kind of assumed you were over it, or something. I mean, you didn’t say anything about it.” She shakes her head and turns the engine back on, hits the lights and starts to shift into reverse. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“No,” I say. “No. There’s no harm in being here. And you’re right. I could use that drink.”

This is an opportunity to face my fear. My fear of seeing him. Of not seeing him. I don’t know which one I’m more afraid of.

I can’t let fear of him dictate my actions. I have to move on with my life. I have to...

“You sure, honey?” She puts a hand over mine and gives a little squeeze. It feels like it should be reassuring, but I don’t really feel any better. I look up again at the old, glowing fluorescent lights.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. I can do this. Plus, I have to tell you all about Colin.”

“That’s the spirit,” she says, lightly punching the ceiling of her old Camry. “I need to hear all the disgusting ways that he’s too perfect.”

And I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her all about what a perfect gentleman he is, and how much my parents love him.

I just can’t tell her that the ring in my purse is from someone else. From Travis. And how I can’t wear it.

The scary part is that I still might want to.