Confessions on the 7:45(55)

“It’s really nice getting to know you,” said Martha. She motioned for the check, and when it came, insisted on footing the bill. “I don’t have many female friends.”

All the worst women said that, those who vamped for male attention, as they gossiped, sabotaged and backstabbed, then acted confused when other women didn’t “like” them. She supposed it tracked; Martha had slept with her married boss.

“Do you have any family?”

A quick shake of her head. “My parents are both gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Selena said. The other woman wore an easy expression, a slight smile. But Selena could almost feel her disconnection, her loneliness. All of this made more sense; maybe she was someone just looking for a friend.

“And no one serious?”

“No,” she said. “Like I said, trust issues, I guess. I can’t seem to find ‘the one,’ you know?”

Selena nodded, looked down at her glass. And you might not even recognize him when you do find him. “It’s not easy.”

“You’re lucky.”

“Well,” said Selena. She felt a twist of guilt, thought about her social media posts. What a fraud she was. “A long marriage takes work, compromise, all these little negotiations. It’s not all champagne and roses.”

“No,” said Martha smiling. “I’m sure not. But someone like you—smart, attractive, a loving mom and wife—you deserve a good man. Someone who takes care of you, protects you, loves you well. Someone who’s faithful.”

Selena cast her eyes down again to her now empty glass, feeling the weight of the words.

“I have that,” she whispered. “I’m blessed.”

“Some women accept far less,” Martha said. “They shouldn’t.”

There it was again, that dark tone. Martha held Selena’s eyes when she lifted them again, and Selena felt a chill move through her.

“Like my mother,” said Martha. “She thought my father was one kind of man. It turned out that he was something so different. She just—put up with it for so long. Why do women stay?”

“Inertia,” said Selena. Her throat felt dry. “For the kids. Maybe fear. There’s a psychology to abuse. My mother works at a shelter now. Sometimes people just don’t know how to get away.”

The other woman’s gaze was an abyss, dark, unreadable. It was oddly hypnotic.

“Like I said. You have a good man who treats you like you deserve. Lucky girl.”

The blood rushed in Selena’s ears. “Yes. Very lucky.”

“And if you ever found out that your husband was not the man you thought he was, would you leave him?”

“I’d like to think so,” she said. “Marriage—it’s complicated.”

Martha drained the rest of her glass. “Another?”

“This has been—so great,” Selena said. She sat up, took a deep breath, breaking the spell. “But I should get going.”

“Thanks for reaching out,” said Martha with a warm smile. “I’m glad we connected.”

“Me, too. At a certain point in your life you think that maybe you’re too old to make new friends,” said Selena. “But that’s obviously not true.”

“Aw, I love that. Thank you,” said Martha. She seemed genuinely pleased, her smile warm.

Whatever darkness Selena sensed was gone, replaced by friendliness and warmth. Was it her imagination? Her own fears? The darkness in her own life?

Now, Selena inwardly congratulated herself on a job well done. She’d sealed the relationship, made sense of their encounter on the train—they both had secrets they wanted kept—and enlisted Martha as a friend. It would have been better if Selena had never opened her mouth, of course, but at least she felt like the situation was in hand. Of course, if something had happened to Geneva, if her disappearance became a news story, would she be able to trust Martha? Probably not. She was still hoping that it wouldn’t come to that.

“Let’s do this again soon,” said Selena.

“Definitely. And, hey, you know, if you ever need to talk to someone—about anything—let me know. I’m a good listener. No judgments. I like to think of myself as a solution architect.”

“A solution architect.”

“There’s always a solution for any problem. And I like to find it.” There it was again, that sort of dark glint Selena had intuited on the train. Something slithering beneath the surface.

“That’s an important skill,” Selena said with a wink, as if she was in on the joke.

“Because problems don’t always just go away.”

“That’s very true.”

They embraced, and Martha held on just a second longer than Selena, pulling her back a little then finally releasing her. For reasons she couldn’t explain, Selena felt a rush of heat to her cheeks, a strong urge to get away.

“Well, same here,” said Selena. “Call any time.”

“I’m going to stick around for a while,” said Martha, subtly shifting her gaze to the bartender. She took her seat again.

“Oh,” said Selena. She’d almost never been single—a serious high school boyfriend, then Will, then Graham. But her friends talked about it—the excitement of random hookups, also the loneliness, the frustration of never finding the right guy, the dating apps, and failed encounters. The dangerous moments when someone got too aggressive, wouldn’t take no for an answer. The nice guys who suddenly turned creepy after too much alcohol.