The Subway Girls

by Susie Orman Schnall

  A silence fell over the room, and the woman sitting next to Olivia put her hand on Olivia’s leg and asked, “So are you going to bring Miss Subways back to New York? Are you really going to do that for us, Olivia?”

  Olivia didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth, so she told them the next best thing. “Well, I’m certainly going to try.”

  * * *

  Once Olivia finished talking with the women, she went back to her apartment and quickly packed for the trip to California. She didn’t know where she was going or what she was going to do there, but, she reminded herself, she didn’t really care. She would be with Ben. And she was deliciously curious to see what that would be like.

  Luckily the traffic wasn’t bad and Olivia made it to JFK in good time. Ben was standing against the terminal building, typing on his phone when she approached him.

  “I’m here,” she said.

  “Let’s do this,” he said, smiling at her and taking her hand in his.

  * * *

  Olivia had been on a plane a few times, but the closest she had ever gotten to first class was when all the bathrooms had been clogged in coach and she’d gotten to use the one up front. She was excited that on this flight, she’d get to enjoy more than just the lavatory.

  Ben explained that JetBlue’s Mint was a little different from a normal first class, which was typically more staid. Mint was all purple uplighting and innovative gourmet food and chichi amenity kits and more channels on the television than Olivia had in her apartment. Plus, free movies and a seat that went all the way back. Olivia didn’t know what to do first, and wished that the flight were longer than six hours.

  Once they’d settled in and were on their second special minty lemonade, Ben began telling Olivia why he needed to go to California.

  He had read the one unsealed letter first. It was from Rose Grant, the woman his grandmother had gotten upset about. In it, she had written something about having kept her promise for so long and now she wanted to connect. That she had respected Mrs. Glasser’s choice to not be in touch all these years, but now that they were old ladies (her words, Ben explained), couldn’t they just drop it all and get together to reminisce?

  Ben couldn’t think of anything more exciting than reuniting his grandmother with her old friend.

  “Not to put a damper on these activities, and trust me, that’s the last thing I want to do, but didn’t you think your grandma seemed pretty agitated when I asked her about the woman in the picture who turned out to be Rose Grant? And in the letter she said she had kept her promise to stay away. What do you think that’s all about?”

  “My grandma’s a reasonable woman. I’m sure she’s over whatever it was that complicated their relationship. And if I’m making a huge mistake, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  “Does Rose Grant know you’re coming?”

  “She does. She included her number in the letter to my grandma, so I just called it and she picked up on the first ring. I told her I was Charlotte Friedman’s grandson and that I had found a letter she had written my grandmother and I wondered if I could come meet her. She was silent for a moment, and then she told me to come. So I’m—so we’re—coming.”

  “I hope it’s okay I’ll be there too. I could always wait back in the hotel while you meet her,” Olivia said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Ben said.

  “I do have one request for this trip.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That we don’t talk about work at all. I hope you don’t think that’s selfish, considering I know so little about what you do, but I just need to not think of anything having to do with work for a few days.”

  “That’s good with me. I could use a bit of a break from work myself.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ben turned to look out the window and when he turned back around, Olivia thought his face looked harder, his features more pronounced.

  “I hope it’s not too aggressive to say that it seems like we might be starting to develop something here.”

  Olivia smiled and nodded.

  “I feel like I need to warn you about my past, a weakness I have, so you can make the decision at the beginning whether you want to be involved with someone like me.”

  Olivia took his hand. “Go ahead,” she whispered. This was clearly important to him, whatever it was, and she wanted him to feel safe and comfortable revealing his truth. Her mind began racing about all the different things he could possibly be referring to, but before she was able to settle on any one assumption, Ben started to talk.

  “When my parents died, I was so young. I processed it like a child. My grandparents were so on top of it, bringing me to therapists, buying me a dog. They did everything they could to make me feel like I was loved. And it worked. I adapted to the new normal and went on with my life. I remember feeling like I had to be the perfect child so I wouldn’t upset my grandparents. I know now that I was terrified of them leaving me as well. I got good grades and went to a good college; people always were so complimentary of how well I had dealt with my parents’ deaths. I wrapped myself in that identity. I became the kid who was so strong. I wore it like a badge of honor.

  “But soon after I graduated from college, the girl I had been dating for a couple of years, the girl I thought I was going to marry, broke up with me, and something in me snapped. All the therapy I’ve been through since then taught me that it was a whole abandonment issue I had never fully dealt with from my parents. But I spiraled after she broke up with me. I started drinking heavily, I lost my job, and—”

  He stopped and turned abruptly to look out the window. Olivia squeezed his hand and whispered, “It’s okay.” She ached for how painful this seemed to be for Ben. But she knew she needed to let him get it out. On his terms.

  Ben turned back, his eyes wet. He laughed with a disgusted tone, took a deep breath, and stared straight ahead. “I actually tried to kill myself one night. Jesus, this is so embarrassing. I don’t know what I was thinking. I think part of me wanted it to work and part of me wanted my grandmother to find me so I could get some help. She found me puking and … it was a mess. She called 911 and I ended up going into rehab.

  “A lot has happened since then. It shocks me sometimes when I realize how lucky I got and how lucky I am to be doing well in recovery. I’m almost eight years sober,” he said, looking at her and raising his eyebrows.

  “That’s amazing,” Olivia said quietly, smiling at him and nodding.

  “Anyway, I know it’s probably a little too early to dump all that on you, but I didn’t want this to come out later and then have you feel like I was hiding something.”

  “I’m so sorry you went through all that,” she said, and squeezed his hand again, placing it in her lap. “But that doesn’t scare me off, Ben. It actually makes me want to be with you even more. And it’s a little hilarious, to be honest.”

  “Hilarious?” Ben asked, pulling his hand away and giving her a strange look.

  “No, no, no,” Olivia said, reaching for his hand again. “Bad word choice. So not hilarious. Definitely not hilarious. What I meant to say, but botched so horribly, is that it’s interesting, yes, ‘interesting’ is a much better word, because when I started getting to know you, you seemed like such a straightlaced, predictable guy.”

  “Ouch,” Ben said, shaking his head and laughing.

  “It’s just, you were this really nice, seemingly conservative guy who played Scrabble and ate babka with his grandma. It never occurred to me that to get there, you had to go through all that.”

  “Yes, luckily, I am not put into temptation mode when I’m at my grandma’s. I had been feeling really badly lately, so I began spending more time with her. She knows how to get me back on track. And the bonus was that I started seeing you. So I made it a regular thing. Don’t tell my grandma you had something to do with my hanging around her place more often.”

  “Secret’s safe.”

  They both laughed.


  “What a mess.”

  “Actually not at all, Ben. It means a lot to me that you would feel comfortable enough to open up to me like that. Thank you.”

  “I can’t imagine you have any deep, dark secrets. You seem so strong and well adjusted.”

  “Hardly,” Olivia said, suppressing an anguished laugh. She stared straight ahead at the seat-back screen and took another sip of her lemonade.

  “Anything you’d care to share?” Ben asked, turning his head to look at her profile.

  Olivia sighed. Her mother had called her over the weekend, unpacking a new load of baggage and expecting Olivia to drop everything and fix it all. Olivia tried to have empathy for her mother, but she found it difficult, not only because she was entrenched in work mode, but also because she felt like she had reached the end of that particular rope. Olivia had dealt with the infected dynamic between her parents for her entire life. Had witnessed and endured horrible things. At what point could she just give herself permission to turn away for good? That was what her mother’s phone call had stirred in her.

  Olivia turned to face Ben. “It’s all a mask. A hardened shell,” she said soberly, pursing her lips.

  “What is?” he asked gently.

  “My strong and well-adjusted demeanor.”

  “In what way?”

  “In the way of having a truly messed-up childhood with lots of fun trauma to pick apart for the rest of your life.”

  “Talk to me, Olivia.”

  Olivia took a deep breath, the pain and exhaustion and frustration of it all exhaling into the intimate and heavy space between them. She had discussed her parents with James, but their relationship was admittedly superficial, filled with sarcastic banter and patterns carried over from college. So she had never truly gotten to the heart of it with him. And Jenna had been gone for so long, had missed so much of what had happened recently. Olivia realized that she’d only dealt with her pain through extensive online research and imagined conversations she had with her father while she was in the shower. Furious and vehement speeches filled with shameful accusations and sheer contempt, all the hatred pouring out to combine with the torrent of water she made hotter and hotter until she couldn’t stand the temperature or the vitriol any longer.

  She turned to Ben and told him everything. The words and stories and memories and pain spilling out of her as if they had been desperately searching for a home forever. He held her hand and let her speak. Let her tell him how she felt and how she just couldn’t do it anymore. How she couldn’t enable her father, how she couldn’t rescue her mother, how she couldn’t keep putting herself last in a trio of dysfunction. How she realized that the only way to heal was to extricate herself entirely from the one relationship that was supposed to be the most pure and protective. But it wasn’t.

  And when she had relieved herself of the burden, she put her head on Ben’s shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “Thank you for sharing that with me. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with all of this. Now I know why you’re so strong.”

  “It’s a mask, remember?” Olivia said. She felt drained.

  “It’s everything but, Olivia.”

  Ben asked her questions, kind yet pointed, and got to the heart of the issue for Olivia. She realized after they’d been discussing her family for a while that being able to share herself with someone might have been what she needed all along to absolve her of her guilt, her shame, and her uncertainty about whether she was making the right decisions.

  And when they were done, Ben turned his body toward her and lifted her chin with his finger. He kissed her, and it was the most loving kiss Olivia could ever remember receiving. The difference, she realized at that moment, between Ben’s kiss and all the kisses she had ever had with Matt, was overwhelming.

  * * *

  The next morning, after a great night’s sleep in their separate rooms at Shutters in Santa Monica, they headed to Rose’s house in Beverly Hills in their swanky rental convertible. Turned out Ben had points at Hertz as well.

  Olivia felt like she was getting whiplash. She didn’t know where to look first. Ben drove east on Pico toward Beverly Hills. He was going to take surface streets the whole way, but when Olivia saw signs for the 405, she said she’d always wanted to say she’d been on the 405 (it wasn’t Paris, but it would have to do), so Ben got on the 405 north and took it a few exits to Wilshire. When they got closer to Beverly Hills, and the palm trees seemed denser, Olivia’s eyes grew wider. She saw the Beverly Wilshire Hotel on her right (Pretty Woman!), and then they turned left onto Rodeo Drive. Olivia knew Ben was a good guy because he didn’t make fun of her pure delight in seeing Los Angeles. In fact, he was a decidedly generous tour guide.

  Ben wound through the side streets until they stopped at a smallish Spanish-style house with beautiful, lush landscaping.

  “This is it,” Ben said.

  They pulled up to the intercom at the gate and Ben pushed the button.

  When a young woman’s voice answered, Ben said, “I’m here to see Rose Grant. It’s Ben Glasser.”

  They heard a beep, and the gate slid open. Ben and Olivia looked at each other, and then Ben drove in and parked in the middle of the driveway, just outside the front door.

  They got out of the car and walked up to the door. Ben rang the bell and they heard footsteps.

  “Hello,” a young Hispanic woman said to them. She was smiling and holding back a small yapping dog.

  “Hi,” Ben said. “We’re here to see Rose Grant.”

  “Yes, Señora Grant said she was expecting you. She is in the backyard, playing tennis. Por favor,” she said, and turned, leading them across the foyer.

  Tennis? Ben mouthed to Olivia, and nodded, impressed.

  They walked through the living room. When they passed the fireplace, Olivia punched Ben on the arm and pointed to the mantel. To the three Oscars displayed there. She opened her eyes wide.

  “You can go there,” the woman said, pointing out the French doors to the tennis court.

  Rose was on the far side of the court, moving slowly but purposefully, hitting ball after ball consistently back to the young man in tennis whites feeding them to her from the near side of the court.

  He noticed Ben and Olivia and shouted to Rose, “Rose, you have visitors!”

  “Who is it now?” Ben and Olivia heard Rose say. The sun was in her eyes, so it would have been difficult for her to see them.

  “You can tell her it’s Ben Glasser, Charlotte Friedman’s grandson,” Ben said.

  The tennis pro repeated that to Rose. She stopped, dropped her racket, and walked across the court.

  When she got to where they were standing, she looked at Ben and then grabbed him in a huge embrace.

  They were both laughing, and eventually she pulled away.

  “Let me look at you,” she said. “My God, you’re gorgeous. Is this your wife?”

  “No, just a friend, Ms. Grant. This is Olivia,” Ben said.

  “Call me Rose, please,” she said to Ben, and then she looked at Olivia and held her hands. “Olivia. You’re lovely. It’s wonderful to meet you.” Then she gave Olivia a hug.

  “Come. Come inside. Flor has made us some snacks and iced tea. I wasn’t sure what time to expect you, but I’ve had enough tennis for today, so this is perfect.”

  She linked arms with Ben and Olivia, one on each side of her, and they walked to the house.

  “Actually, it’s beautiful out. Let’s sit outside.” Rose poked her head into the house, and Ben and Olivia heard her say, “Flor, we’ll take the refreshments outside, please.”

  They all sat down at a round table, and Olivia was able to get a good look at Rose. She had only seen that one photo of Rose from Mrs. Glasser’s scrapbook, but Olivia could see the resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor. Her hair was gray but full, and she had a youthful energy to her. Her cheeks were flushed from the tennis, and she hadn’t stopped smiling since they had met. She was gorgeous.
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  “So you knew my grandma?” Ben asked.

  “Yes. Such a long time ago. But I want to hear about you, Ben. You too, Olivia. Tell me all about yourselves.”

  Flor brought out the snacks and iced tea, and Ben told Rose all about his life. When he mentioned that his parents had died when he was young, Rose grew noticeably upset.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. That must have been terrible for you and your grandparents.”

  “It was. Did you know my parents?”

  “No,” Rose said. “I never knew them.”

  When Ben and Olivia had told Rose all about themselves, Ben made his proposal. “Would you consider coming back to New York with us to see my grandmother?”

  “Oh my. Does Charlotte know you’re inviting me?”

  “No. I know from the letter of yours I read that you two had some complications, but so much time has passed. I thought I’d surprise her.”

  “That would be quite a surprise.”

  “So what do you say? I took the liberty of reserving a plane ticket in your name that leaves tomorrow morning. I would just need to call to confirm it and add your birth date. It would be our honor to escort you to New York. I’ve even booked a hotel for you near my grandmother’s apartment. Please come.”

  Rose was silent and looked from Ben to Olivia.

  “What the hell?” Rose said. “You only live once.” Then she stood up, poked her head into the house, and shouted, “Flor, pack my suitcase. I’m going to New York!”

  CHAPTER 21

  CHARLOTTE

  SATURDAY, JULY 2, 1949

  “Charlotte!”

  Charlotte was in her room and heard her father calling for her. She was about to answer when she heard his shouting escalate.

  “Charlotte! Come down here right this minute!”

  Charlotte ran down the stairs. Her father was screaming so loudly, she thought he was having a heart attack. Or being murdered.

  “Teddy! Are you all right?” Mrs. Friedman ran into the hall, where the entire family had now convened.