Friends: More Will and Magna Stories

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She gets on a train. A man makes a pass at her. “Hiya doing, darling?” She gets off the train. She waits on the platform. Another man comes over and says “Pardon me, young lady, but which way is uptown?”

“This the downtown side, that what you mean?”

“This is the downtown? That’s the one I want. This the local side of the platform?”

“That’s the local side there. This is the express.”

“That’s the one I want. The express. I have to get downtown in a hurry. Terrific business deal — you can’t believe it. You’re too young to understand that though.”

“I suppose so.”

She looks away from him, stands there, holds a book bag. She knows the man’s a character. It happens so often. Men want to touch her on the subway, talk to her. They follow her on the street sometimes, and certainly give her looks wherever she goes. One took her hand the other week, held it gently enough, and said “Why don’t you come home with me. It’s a nice home. A really big apartment — anything you want in it could be yours. Antiques: they’re yours. Not all, of course, but some, and the more valuable the better, far as I’m concerned. Lamps, chairs, dishes — anything of these is yours. Which one of those would you like?” “Do you mind?” she said, taking her hand from his. “No, really, I’m telling the truth. Whatever you want you can have. Lamps and chairs. Dishes too. All of them. Curtains. Brocaded curtains. Lazy Susans. Silent butlers. Know what those are? I got two, both sterling silver, engraved, but you can’t tell what the initials are they’re engraved so fancily. Whatever you want. You’re that beautiful. Beautiful as a princess. You are a princess. What country you a princess of, beautiful young lady?” She had to walk across the street to get rid of him.

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