A bit of twist on a late evening bus ride.
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Looking at my watch, I realized I had a few minutes to spare. I slowed my pace down from a run to a jog, then to a brisk walk. “Nice to be early for once”, I thought to myself. “I’d hate to have to walk through this neighbourhood if I missed the last bus home, especially on such a cold night.”
Shift work had its advantages and disadvantages. Sure, working evenings allowed me to run daytime errands without missing time at my job, and there was the small shift premium added to my paycheque. On the downside was my sleep schedule being a bit messes up, along with not really getting to see my girlfriend for two weeks out of every four.
I contemplated all of this, along with the fact that I was next up on the seniority list. “When Frank retires, it’ll be straight day shift for me. Sweet!” It wasn’t a bad job, either — not too stressful, and the money was reasonable.
The bus arrived at the stop, and I climbed aboard. I dropped my ticket into the farebox, and nodded a greeting to the driver. He nodded in return, and I walked down the aisle to a seat about halfway near the rear exit. I suppose I could have sat anywhere — I was the only passenger aboard. I settled in for my half hour ride home, and pulled out a book from my backpack. I opened it to the bookmarked page and started to read…
… and then put the book right back in my backpack. "Uh-oh," I thought. "I hope this will be a mild one." I looked out the windows, and then up at the mirror at the front of the bus, waiting to make eye contact with the driver. After a few moments, he looked up and suddenly a very startled expression crossed his face. The bus veered over half a lane before he realized he needed to pay more attention to the road.
Not wanting him to get into an accident, I decided I would move up to the front. I sat at the seat right by the front door and started making small talk.
“Busy day?” I asked.
“Not too bad,” he replied, looking over at me warily. He paused a few seconds, then asked “I don’t mean to be rude, but… where did you come from? You weren’t on the bus three minutes ago.”
“Well, actually, I was,” I answered. “Let me guess… you were wishing for an attractive woman to get on the bus, right? One that would actually sit up here and talk to you, instead of sitting way in the back, listening to shitty music on her MP3 player. Am I basically correct?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so. That still doesn’t explain where you came from.”
“True, it doesn’t. However, I am here now, talking to you. Do you find me attractive?”
“Definitely!” he said, and I had to smile.
“And would you like to talk with me?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Well, let’s chat, then. What’s your name?” I asked my ‘public limo’ driver.
“Dean,” he responded.
So, we spent the next 25 or so minutes talking about this and that and the next thing. Dean was single, cute, and had an excellent sense of humour. He was a great conversationalist, once he got over his initial shyness. He flirted subtly, and was very charming. As we approached my stop, he asked the inevitable question. “So, I’m working the evening shift for awhile. Will I see you again?”
“Sadly, Dean, you won’t. I can only grant you one wish, once. However, you should never stop dreaming or hoping. I do know that you will meet a very special woman on one of your routes, in the not too distant future. If you seize the opportunity, amazing things will happen.” With that, I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
I walked to the back where my knapsack was. I sat down, and pulled the ‘stop’ cord. As I walked back to the front, the bus slowly came to a stop.
“Good night, sir,” Dean said.
“Have a good night,” I said to him. And with that, I stepped into the cold winter night.
Transit – Avoiding the Inevitable
You can read my other two "Transit" stories if you like. It may (or may not) give you a better idea of what is going on with the main character.
I had been waiting for this day for over a month now. The start of my holidays – two bliss filled weeks of most definitely not going to work. Don’t get me wrong - I like my job well enough. It’s pretty stress free, it pays decently, and when I punch the clock (figuratively speaking) at the end of the day, work is over. I’ll leave the homework for the higher ups in the organization. Let them deal with the decisions that apparently can’t wait until the morning or the following Monday.
As I stood there waiting for the bus, I nodded to a few of the regulars at the stop. There were also a couple different faces in the crowd, but that was to be expected in this area. There were a number of specialty stores nearby, so there were always a few shoppers with a bag or two of merchandise they had just purchased.
One person really stood out – she had a quirky but attractive face that was only enhanced by the glow caused by her pregnancy. And she was extremely pregnant. I am not sure how else to describe it, except to say that I was pretty surprised that she had even ventured out of doors, being that close to giving birth. She was talking to another woman, who obviously had some similar thoughts on the subject.
“Honestly, Jenny, I could have picked this up for you! Why should it matter who purchases the gift? Your niece would have never known the difference.”
“It matters to me, Kate,” answered Jenny. “It just adds something extra to it, ya’ know?”
“Yeah, I know,” relented her friend “But still, this close to your due date… I swear that you are trying to avoid the inevitable. You do realize you are pregnant, right? You can’t postpone giving birth by being busy shopping or working.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know…” and the rest of what she might have said was cut off by the bus coming to a stop in front of us.
Everyone there was decent enough to wait for Jenny and her friend to board the bus first. Jenny sat at a seat that was vacated by a gentleman who realized she needed it more than he did. She thanked him as she awkwardly lowered herself.
We were on the express leg of the ride for the next few minutes, so there shouldn’t have been any slowing down or stopping. Today, however, we were not so lucky. Not even thirty seconds in, and some fool driving a huge grey pickup truck pulled out from a gas station right in front of the bus. Our driver Dean was right on the ball – he hit the brakes to avoid a collision. Unfortunately, Jenny was just reaching over to get her niece’s present out of a bag when the bus decelerated. She was caught off guard and was thrown to the floor. She let out a cry of pain as she landed full on her stomach.
“Oh, no!” she cried, “Oh, no, not now.” She screamed out in pain, and then began to moan. I could see a puddle of fluid slowly spreading from between her legs and on to the rubber matted floor. Her water had broken!
Kate was already at her side, and asked what was going on. “I think the baby is coming,” she said between gasps. “That fall must have triggered it… I can feel the contractions starting.”
Kate yelled “Someone please call an ambulance!” which was answered by at least four people, each one saying their own version of “It’s already on its way.” Kate and Jenny both smiled at that.
“I don’t think I can do this, Kate,” Jenny said. “I am not ready to be a mom yet. Or, at least, I am not ready to give birth. Too much pain… hours of pain… days of pain…. I wish I could just skip this part… and go right to holding little Emily in my arms….”
‘Oh, no’ I thought ‘please don’t make her wish come true.’ But as I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness, I knew that was not to be. Jenny was lucky, in a way, to be riding this bus when she did. She was going to miss the painful part of bringing her daughter into this world.
As for me… well, I was going to gain a whole new perspective on child birth. As I came to in Jenny’s very pregnant body, a contraction hit me like a ton of bricks. Oh my goddess, that hurt! I couldn’t help but scream. Tears poured down my face. I had a few minutes respite. I didn’t trust myself to say anything, and my thoughts were kind of scrambled by the newness of this, and the strange physical sensations.
Another contraction had just started when the ambulance arrived. The crew were calm and professional, and got me onto a stretcher with a minimum of discomfort. In less than a minute, I was in the back of the ambulance, and we were on the way to the hospital. They didn’t notice the unconscious person slumped up against the window two rows back. I was sure that someone would notify my girlfriend, once they discovered my real body on the bus.
‘What a way to start a vacation,” I thought, and then cried out as another contraction hit.
Just another day on the bus. :-)
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You could read my original short story "Transit" first, but it isn't necessary. This can be considered a "stand alone" tale. Hope you enjoy it.
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'Permanent day shift.' I thought. 'Finally!'
While I would miss Frank's curmudgeonly (yet comical) manner, his retirement meant my promotion, and the end of shift work hell. When our manager Clive confirmed I was now on days, I did a happy dance right there in his office. Okay, not the most professional behaviour, but most folks at work aren't surprised by it. I'm a bit over enthusiastic at times.
My train of thought was interrupted by the approach of the bus. As soon as it stopped, I stepped aboard and placed my ticket in the fare box. I nodded a greeting to Dean, the driver, who had made the day shift himself about a month ago. He smiled in return, but he looked a bit stressed. As I walked towards my usual seating area, I could see why.
There they were, in their usual seats at the back of the bus. I had nicknamed them the “Holy Terrors of the 4:15”. Two boys, maybe 13 or 14; looking and acting like they owned the bus. They generally alternated between trying to make themselves deaf with their MP3 players, and making obnoxious comments about anyone within their line of sight. At the moment, they were in insult mode, and made sure to let all within hearing range know what they thought of my work uniform. I tuned them out the best I could, and tried to get my temper settle down.
Dean had tried talking to the two of them on more than one occasion, but they knew that he couldn't do any more than that. As a result, they just laughed at him, and carried on with their annoying behaviour. They looked just 'gangsta' enough that they might be carrying weapons, so no one was overly eager to take them on.
At the next stop, an elderly couple boarded, and sat behind me. They seemed like really nice people, and were always quick to smile a greeting at other passengers. As expected, they didn't escape notice of the holy terrors.
“Hey, gramps!,” shouted one of them, “Ain't she a bit old for you?” His comrade laughed at that, and chimed in with “Ain't you two supposed to be in a home?” Another insult or two, and then they found another target.
I was just starting to get out of my seat to have words with them, but didn't get the chance. I heard one of the women in the seat in front of me whisper to her friend “Don't those kids respect anyone's authority? I wish someone would put them in their places.”
'Oh, damn,' I thought, as I felt the shifting of my form. 'Looks like that one is going to be granted. Oh, please, don't let this be an all day affair.'
I got up out of my seat, and headed to the back of the bus. I looked at one troublemaker, and then the other, and saw them both pale as they recognized who I was. The one on the left looked down, and I could hear him mutter “Oh, shit.”
“Yes, 'oh shit' is right,” I said. “I've heard what you and your friend have been up to. At first I didn't want to believe it, but pretty soon half the neighbourhood was talking about your antics, and I had to check it out.”
“I'm really sorry, mom,” said the dark haired youth. “And it's not like we were harming anyone. It's just...”
“Can it!!” I interrupted, my voice a harsh whisper. “You weren't harming anyone? How about the terror that you two have inflicted upon these innocent people? Is that not harm? And what about the potential danger you put yourselves in? What if someone had snapped, pulled out a gun or a knife, and did the two of you in? This bus is not going through the nicest of neighbourhoods. You two may look like members of a gang, but you most assuredly are not.”
They both looked very subdued as they processed what I had said. Both my 'son' and his friend were starting to realize the seriousness of what they had been doing.
“So,” I continued, “this is what we are going to do next. I am going to ask the driver to stop the bus. You two are going to go up there, and in very clear voices, apologize for your behaviour. No excuses, no mumbling. Say it sincerely, and mean it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma'am,” they replied in unison.
I went up and made my request, explaining the situation. Dean seemed glad to comply. I went back to my seat, and watched as the boys made their way up to the front. As they made their very sincere apologies, I felt myself shift back to my usual form.
The boys walked back to their usual seats, and were quiet for the rest of the ride.
I rang the bell about 15 minutes later, and walked to the front of the bus. “Have a good weekend, Dean,” I said, as I stepped off the bus and walked the rest of the way home.