The stops along the Metro-North New Haven line were the familiar background noise of all my train rides into the city. The list of stops was kind of like the list of state capitals—I knew them all but could only get the order right when I recited them. Putnam, Winthrop, Old Stanwich, Stanwich, University, Waterside, Hartfield, Port Chester, Rye… and on and on until 125th Street and then the tunnel into Grand Central, which was always the sign that it was time to get your things together, put on your coat, and grab your bag, because the train would be making its last and final stop, at Grand Central Station.

There were five train stations dotted around Stanwich, and the trains ran into Grand Central and back again, multiple times an hour during the morning and evening and then tapering off to once an hour during the less-peak times, finally stopping service for good at two a.m. The Old Stanwich station was closest to Teri’s, and Stevie and I had arrived there early enough to get actual paper tickets from the machine. The platform wasn’t that crowded yet, but it was still early. I knew from other trips that in a few hours, both sides of the platform would be packed—with people going into the city for the night on one side and commuters returning back home for the weekend on the other.

It was the same train as ever: maroon-and-white leather seats, two-seaters running along one side, three-seaters on the other, an aisle in between. There were posters by the doors, advertising an online MBA program and a condo development going up in Hartfield.

We’d gotten seats a few rows back from the door. The train wasn’t that full—the car we were in was just half-occupied, with lots of empty seats. Stevie sat by the window, and I was in the aisle seat, and as the doors slid shut and the conductor announced the next station—Stanwich—I let out a long breath.

We were doing this.

I’d been so focused on convincing Stevie that it would be no big deal—and then getting my parents to believe that we were just staying at Teri’s—that the enormity of what we were embarking on was just now hitting me. I was going to go into New York City by myself for the first time ever. I tried to keep my face impassive—if Stevie saw that I was even a little bit anxious, I knew she’d start to get nervous, maybe even change her mind, and I needed this all to work out.

I looked around for my purse to take out my phone until I remembered I didn’t have one—all my essentials were in Stevie’s clutch. “Can I see your phone?”