“I guess we could take a cab?” I asked, though even as I said it, I worried it might actually take longer. If I had my own phone, I could have checked the traffic, but now I was reduced to squinting at the line of cars going past and trying to predict the future, like I was an old-timey sailor looking out at the waves.

“What if they won’t break the hundred either, though?”

“Good point,” I said, figuring that it might be a taxi policy, and not just the one car we’d happened to get. “Can you call an Uber?”

Stevie shook her head. “It’s tied to my mom’s card.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, and I could practically see the time ticking away, time we really didn’t have to waste. And though I was trying not to, I was starting to get annoyed at the fact that Stevie was just shooting down all my ideas and not coming up with any of her own. “Maybe I should just carry Brad?” I suggested after it became clear Stevie wasn’t going to contribute. “And if anyone asks, we could say he’s my emotional support animal.”

Stevie nodded. “Sounds good.” I scooped up Brad, who took the opportunity to lick my face as we walked down the subway steps, Stevie holding on to the railing carefully as she navigated the steps in her heels. “What is he emotionally supporting?”

I laughed as I scratched his head. “I have a crippling fear of being without a dog,” I said. “He fixes that.”

Once we got down the steps into the station, it was suddenly much too hot, like the heat had been turned up full blast and then not turned off again. I held Brad close to me as I looked around, but there didn’t seem to be anyone working in the glassed-off booth, and the two police officers stationed by the entrance didn’t say anything, so I figured we were okay on the dog front.

Stevie pulled out her MetroCard and swiped it. It didn’t work the first time, and I could see her getting anxious, looking behind her like she was worried about other people waiting, as people in the next two turnstiles zipped through with no problem. She finally got it to work, and I could see the relief in her eyes as she pushed her way through the turnstile and handed the card to me. I swiped it through, pushed through the turnstile, and handed it back to her.

There was the whoosh of trains coming and going, announcements about what was arriving, reminders about keeping your belongings close to you, and the intermittent Stand clear of the closing doors echoing throughout the station as various trains departed. There was also a man with an alto sax, his case open in front of him, playing “New York State of Mind” very loudly.