Bus Stop - Part I
“Hey, how’s it going?”
I had only 2 minutes before gotten to the bus stop to see the tail lights of my bus pull away. But, because of the events of the last couple hours, I didn’t mind so much. The guy that just spoke to me rode up on his bike, apparently planning to take the bus the rest of the way. Often times, I take this type of greeting as a salutation. A rhetorical question used as a greeting. But, he’s looking at me, clearly awaiting an answer. In response to his question, I at first can only smirk and shake my head, looking down at the tops of my shoes. After a couple seconds, I’m able to manage “Man…I’m fucking great. Just peachy.”
“Wow” he says with a genuine look of surprise. “Bet that’s a helluva story.” It is a hell of a story. And, I would love to tell it. But, I can’t tell it to some stranger on the bus stop. “It says we just missed one. The next won’t come for another 15 minutes…” He’s looking at the bus tracker app on his smartphone, and based on the way he let his voice hang at the end, apparently, also reading my fucking mind.
“Yeah, I got here just a couple minutes ago and saw it pull off.” He’s fresh faced, but not boyish. I’d say 30, but not because he looks it. I’m often mistaken for being several years younger, and I think I can recognize this quality in someone’s face. He’s got a touch of stubble, plaid shirt and jeans that fit, but not tight. I can see savvy in his eyes beyond what his initial appearance lets on.
“Well…if we gonna be here for the next 15 minutes, you may as well tell the story.” He wiggles a pack of Marlboro’s from his back pocket and shakes one out at me. His expression is inviting and candid. I tried not to let on just how badly I wanted that smoke. I like to let my craving slowly build until I get home for the night and wrap up my day. Of course, I’m not at home, and this is about the time I’d have one. But, I’m also a proud man and without even thinking I almost always decline when offered anything. The Clairvoyant saw through this facade apparently, and caught the millisecond brief look of longing I gave the filtered end of nicotine satisfaction pointed in my direction. “Go on…” he urged. Giving the pack another slight shake towards me.
“I really don’t…” but I cut my words short with the look he gave me. You know, that look someone gives you when they don’t believe a word you’re saying. “Aw'ight, thanks. ‘Preciate it.” Just as I’m pulling out the cigarette, he tosses a Zippo at me on a ridiculously high arc. I had enough time to get the cancer stick in my mouth and lazily hold out my hand for the lighter to drop into, despite him being only an arm’s reach away. I light up and take a deep drag, steadying myself for the ensuing headrush that only smoking one cigarette a night can give you. I hand him his lighter back, it’s unadorned but well used.
After lighting his own he blows the smoke in the air with a audible exhale and says “So…let’s hear it.”
“I appreciate the smoke, but I really don’t think I can tell you my story. It’s…of a personal nature.” My eyes drop again to the tops of my shoes as I fail at fighting off a flashback.
“All the best stories are, man” he says, while exhaling smoke through his words. I pick up the hint of a Kentucky accent.
“Ha! That may be true, but naw, I can’t. I wouldn’t have time to tell it anyway. It’s not something I want to be talking about once we get on the bus”
“Well, I think maybe you do have the time. Now it says the bus is 22 minutes away.” We’re near a park and the street gets small here. It’s dusk with a clear sky, but too cool for people to be in the park. Basically, there isn’t a person around for a block or so. I look him square in the eye, and he returns my gaze. He seems to already know I’m going to crack, the beginning of a smile starting to curl around the dwindling Marlboro in his mouth.
“What the hell…” I say, taking the last drag and flicking the butt high in the air, cherry ashes lagging behind. “There’s this girl,” I sigh, engrossed in another flashback, “not a girl at all really. A woman. An amazing woman…”
“Here we go!” he exclaims as he slams his own spent butt to the sidewalk. He sits on the bike and folds his arms.
“We work together. Well, we work in the same office, but very rarely work on anything together. She’s fine as hell!…yay tall, with the most amazing curves.” I gesture to follow the shape of her body. “A fucking Black Jessica Rabbit, man. She’s fucking brilliant too. Sweet as pie, southern charm, northeastern sass…” I look up at him, realizing I’ve been talking to the imaginary shape of her I just mapped out with my hands a moment ago. He’s nodding, as if he understands, not just being polite. I pause, half expecting him to jump in with some exclamation or comment, but he remains silent with inquisitive eyes. “I’m coming from her house now. She had this big box delivered to the office and I offered to help her to her car with it. Which isn’t even a big deal. I’ve done the same thang before. Today didn’t seem like anything different. She says she’ll take me to the train station, I say sure, whatever. I ask her what’s in the box, since it’s big as hell but not really heavy. She says it’s luggage, and just in time cause she’s taking this trip soon. We keep talking about where she’s going and all that and next thing we know she’s passed the train station and is on her normal route going home.”
He raised an eyebrow and made a face suggesting this was her plan all along. “Naw, naw, naw…I done had my dick kidnapped by chicks before,” my laugh interrupts me, “but this wasn’t like that at all. We was just talkin’ an’ shit. We came to the conclusion I’d need to help her get her the thang into her house anyway. So then I suggest making her dinner while she starts packing. I’ve been to her house before and cooked her dinner. Spent the night on the couch and all dat. I was a perfect gentleman. We’re friends.” He holds up his hands in surrender, but stays mute. “So we get there and I go to work in the kitchen. She changes into a tee and shorts. Not too skimpy, but her thighs and ass are just so fucking juicy! I’m doing my best to keep my shit together, reminding myself I’ve been in this sitch before. 'Just stay cool’ I tell myself.”
“Like Fonzi” he says matter of factly.
“Right. So we eat, I made pasta and we’re all lazy wit’ da Itis, just kinda slouching on the couch. She’s flicking through the channels and we’re cracking jokes 'n’ shit. We come across Players Club on the channel guide, it came on later…” I look at him to see if he recognizes the title and he nods. He holds out the pack of cigs again and we repeat the ritual of lighting up. The whole time, I’ve been directing my story to a vacant spot in front of me, towards the street. I’m sitting on the bench of the bus shelter, facing the street. He’s to my left sitting on his bike, facing me. “She asked me if I wanted to watch it, but I said naw. 'I know what we’ll watch’ she says and goes in the bedroom to get this disc I gave her a while ago. Planet Earth. Do you know it?”
“Da penguins was my favorite” he says. I think to myself, who the fuck is this guy? A White boy from Kentucky that likes nature and Bernie Mac??!?
“Yeah, yeah! The deep ocean one is my shit, though. Anyway, so she puts the disc in and turns off the kitchen light. She says 'LisaRaye is so beautiful.’ I say 'Hell yeah, prettiest feet in Hollywood'” He makes a face of confusion. “Ok, so I got a thang for feet…so what?!” We share a laugh and I suppress a cough since my thoat is a little raw from two cigarettes so close together. “She says I would say that, and then stretches out her legs saying how she wishes her feet were pretty. Mind you, there isn’t an unpretty part to this woman anywhere. I tell her that her feet are fine, and start describing what makes them pretty. She turns on the couch and puts her feet in my lap…man, I thought I was gonna fucking hyperventilate.” I take another deep sigh here, he seems to understand that another flashback has gripped me and he waits patiently until I can return to the present. “So, now I’m sitting here with her feet in my lap and we go back to watching Planet Earth. I can’t even help myself to not rub them. She didn’t say nothin’, so I just remind myself to stay cool.”
“Like Fonzi,” he says on cue, this time with a little inflection towards humor.
“Right…Right. So I’m getting all kinds'a horny, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck this woman. I mean, she’s everything. She’s got it all: looks, brains, sass, manners…loves to eat, cusses just right…I mean, I’m all kinds'a in love with her. But, since we work together things never move forward with us. We just pass each other in the hall and smile. Sometimes I eat lunch with her in her office. Sometimes she comes by my desk if she’s been traveling and hasn’t been in the office for a while…” The bus pulls up, surprising me. I didn’t realize I had been talking that long. My one-man audience doesn’t flinch, still perched on his bike looking at me to finish. I wave the bus on and it pulls away in a roar of exhaust fumes.
“So you sittin’ there with her feet in your lap…”
