“You better appreciate this shit,” he says.

“Appreciate what?”

The train doors slide closed.

Orion takes a deep breath and shouts the magic word: “SHOWTIME!”

My jaw drops while everyone else on the train glances up, seeming more annoyed than excited. Most are curious enough that they keep their eyes on Orion. I’m stunned that Orion is even willing to do this. It takes a lot of heart; the soul kind of heart, not the organ.

“Showtime on the R train! This very special showtime is dedicated to our newest New Yorker!” Orion points at me, and I’m blushing. He’s clapping, working extra hard to get a scatter of applause from the other passengers. “Thank you, thank you!”

Orion pulls out his phone and starts playing some techno song. It occurs to me that I don’t know what kind of music he’s into, that these are the small ways that we’re still strangers. And yet, here he is, about to perform this big gesture for me. He places his phone on the floor as he slowly starts swinging around the pole in the center of the car, and with his first hop onto the pole, I can already tell this is not some hidden talent he’s been waiting for the perfect moment to reveal. This is going to be the most charming catastrophe, and I’m going to love every second of it. Orion slides down and crab-walks against the door and then clumsily rolls forward. I’m laughing so hard at how wonderfully stupid he looks while other passengers stare at Orion like he’s drunk. I can’t speak to what Orion would look like intoxicated, but this can’t be far off. I start taking pictures as Orion jumps up and swings on the ceiling’s handrail that’s for the tallest of the tall. Everyone remains thoroughly unimpressed, and I’m surprised and relieved no one is booing him.

“Main event!” Orion shouts. He removes his baseball cap and tosses it up and tries catching it with his foot. He fails the first time, the second time, the third time, the fourth time, and though he comes really close on the fifth time, he misses.

“You got this!” I shout. I start a slow clap, and surprisingly, other passengers join in. “Come on, Orion!”

The next moment isn’t perfect, even though Orion has strangers rallying for him, but he sneaks a smile for me anyway. Then he focuses as he flips the cap up and kicks his foot straight into it, and he catches himself on the pole before he can fall.

My palms hurt from how hard I’m clapping.

Orion grabs his phone off the floor, and goes up and down the car with his cap for donations. He returns to me with a one-dollar bill, some loose change, and a kiss.

“Are you completely embarrassed to know me?” Orion asks.