I look down at the phone in his hands. There’s a guy on his knees and a young woman with her hands covering her mouth in pure shock. But it’s not the proposal that’s shocking to me—it’s that I recognize them. I’m staring at the couple I almost bulldozed on the winding staircase. Suddenly, I’m relieved I didn’t do anything to put a damper on their seemingly perfect day. I guess you really never know when a moment is going to be significant.
For some reason, it makes me think of the moments leading up to my accident. I wonder if I would have done anything differently if I had known the accident was coming. I immediately think yes. I definitely would’ve fixed whatever was going on with Carmen. I wouldn’t have rudely texted during my nail appointment with Sydney. I would have told Ashley and my parents I love them. Sometimes I think about asking each of them what the last thing I said to them was, but part of me doesn’t want to know in case it was bad.
Still, for all the bad moments in life, I know there are so many good ones I can have. I look down at the photo of the woman getting proposed to and I can’t help but smile. I wonder about all the moments they had leading up to this one: the moment they met, their first date, the first time they said I love you to each other. All the moments I’m looking forward to for myself.
“I saw that couple walking in,” I say to Andy. “That’s amazing.”
“There’s a few more,” he says. He scrolls through his phone. He shows me a few photos of the young man and woman posed in front of the rail. As he continues to scroll, I see a picture of me for a split second before he scrolls back in the opposite direction.
“Wait a second, what was that?” I ask.
His cheeks turn red. “It was nothing. I took a picture of you when you were gazing over the rail. It almost looks like you’re a model.”
I’m definitely not a model, but even I can see what he means. He took the photo when I wasn’t looking. The backdrop—the Manhattan skyline combined with the perfect snow on the ground—makes my pose and my pensive expression look staged. But I didn’t even know he was taking the picture. I wonder why he did.
Suddenly, the subway stops. “This is us,” Andy says. “Now off to the Whispering Gallery so you can whisper sweet nothings to me for taking that photo.”
Andy leads me to the lower level of the terminal.
“Are we getting oysters?” I ask, seeing the Oyster Bar restaurant next to us.
Andy smiles at me. “No. This is the Whispering Gallery.”
I look around. There’s nothing around us, aside from the intricately tiled walls and ceiling.
Andy keeps walking, though, so I follow him. He stops in front of an arch.
“Stay here,” he instructs me. “I’m going to go diagonally from you.”
“What…,” I start, but he’s already walking away. I stand awkwardly as people pass me by.
But if I’m at all self-conscious about people looking at me, it stops immediately. This is nothing like high school. People here are too focused on getting to their destinations to stop and stare at me, even if I’m standing alone in a corner.
“Ella, can you hear me?”
The voice comes from the walls, but I know it’s Andy’s. I spin around and see that he’s standing at a matching arch on the other end of the passageway. He waves at me and then turns back to the wall.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says. My jaw drops. I can hear him like he’s inches away. Talking to him now across a space like this reminds me of when Ashley and I were younger, before the days of cell phones, and we’d communicate from our separate rooms with walkie-talkies. At the time, it felt like magic. This feels pretty close to it.
“How is this possible?” I ask in amazement. I realize it looks like I’m talking to a wall, but I don’t care. For a moment I wonder if he’ll be able to hear me, but then he responds.
“The architecture. The curved walls bend the reflection of your voice. It’s an acoustic phenomenon.”
“How did you learn about this place? I’ve been to Grand Central a bunch of times and I never knew this existed.”
“I read about it. I’m glad you like it, but can I hear my sweet nothings now?”
I give him an eye roll, but I realize of course he’s not going to see it. “I’m not sure you deserve sweet nothings. It’s not that great a photo,” I say.
“I think the Whispering Gallery is broken,” Andy says.
“Why, you can’t hear me?” I ask before spinning around to see him.
“I thought I heard you say ‘it’s not that great a photo.’ But you look beautiful.”
At that moment, I’m glad Andy is so far away from me that he can’t see me blush. There’s a long pause before I hear him speak again.
“Are you always this bad with compliments?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Okay, we can save all the compliments for me, then,” he says, making me laugh. “But if you’re not going to whisper sweet nothings to me, how about you share one secret?”
I pause. “What kind of secret?”
“I don’t know. Something you want to whisper into these walls that we’ll never talk about.”
I can tell by his tone that he’s grinning. His dimple is showing. It’s amazing that I can know this from across such a vast space.
What does Andy not know about me that I can share now?
Obviously, the big thing comes to mind. The reason we’re here.
I stare at the arch in front of me. It looks like nothing special—just a wall. But I realize that’s what the paper hearts must seem like to Andy: Nothing important. Pieces of paper directing me to new places. What he doesn’t realize is that the hearts mean so much more than they say.
Maybe that’s a secret worth sharing.
“Okay,” I begin. “I haven’t told you this yet….” I trail off.
“That is what a secret is,” Andy says when I don’t finish.
I smile. “I know. It’s hard for me to say.”
“Sorry, I won’t interrupt you again. I promise.”
He sounds sincere. The sincerest I’ve ever heard him. After a long pause, the words roll out.
“I was in a car accident about a year ago,” I say easily. Maybe it’s because I’m talking to a wall, not to Andy directly. Thinking about him hearing me makes my heart speed up. “And I have retrograde amnesia. I can’t remember eleven weeks of my life, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get them back. I know in the grand scheme of things I’m lucky and it’s not a big deal…” I trail off again.