Apology

A crowded 5 o'clock train. There was an empty seat and I slid into it. Standing on front of me a group of schoolgirls who'd just been at sports practice: a couple of white girls and a couple of black girls, all talking excitedly about the goings-on that afternoon.

The train emptied out as we headed to Forest Hills. And one of the them plunked down next to me, knocking me gently on the arm. What happened next was a You moment. A girl who was still standing said to the one who had touched me: 'Well...?' 'Well, what?' 'You hit him,' and gave the other a look and a tilt of the head in my direction.

The one next to me glowered and said nothing, clearly not wanting to humiliate herself with an acknowledgement of my existence, and her fault. Then, after a pause, 'Sorry.' 'Not a problem,' was my reply. Incident over.

As I think it over, though, there were so many elements: the insistence of the standing girl who wouldn't let the issue go, the reluctance and eventual grudging apology.

The continued power of old formalities impressed me, as did the influence that people have on one another. The 'sorry' was a small thing but the right thing, for it made my space and theirs into something for all of us.