Thank God for the City Bus

Tony

A few months ago, when Lettie decided that she needed to get as far away from New York as possible, I was excited. I thought it would give our relationship a chance to finally grow into what we had both wanted for years. No more sneaking around, no more hiding away, no more fear. A fresh start. I was happy to follow Lettie anywhere. It wasn’t long after moving, though, that I wished I’d never met her in the first place.

The move was sudden, and I didn’t have much time to prepare. Apparently Lettie had been planning this for a while though, because one day she was just packed and ready. She left a few weeks before me, while I stayed behind to tie up a few loose ends. Those few weeks felt like hell, I missed her so much.

Lettie was a nurse, and she worked long hours in the ER. When we'd first met, she loved when I'd stop by during her lunch break, and especially when I'd bring her a coffee. After a while, she'd made me stop. I was going to get caught, she'd told me. But now, we were in San Francisco, and no one could catch me, because no one knew who I was. That’s why on my first day in San Francisco, I headed straight to the hospital to surprise Lettie.

At the front desk of the ER, I asked the receptionist if Lettie was free for a moment. She'd paged Lettie's work phone, and I’d waited patiently to the side. The look on her face when she saw me was going to be priceless. I hadn’t even told her I was in San Francisco yet. After a few minutes of waiting, the waiting room door swung open, and Lettie came striding out. But instead of beaming, or laughing, or even crying tears of joy, Lettie just looked terrified.

"What are you doing here?" She had hissed at me. "You can't be here." Before I'd had time to respond, she was turning on a heel and marching back through the door. That was the first sign something was wrong, but I tried to brush it off. She was probably still scared, after all the hiding she'd had to do back in New York.

The next morning, I unlocked the apartment after my morning walk. My walk had gone on longer than I’d meant, and I just missed seeing her before she left for work. My travel mug was almost empty, so I reached for the handle on the carafe, eager for a refill. Lettie always made enough coffee for the two of us. But then I realized there wasn't a carafe- she had replaced it with a single serve pod style machine. Apparently we were fancy, now that we were California folk.

In the following weeks, Lettie seemed to grow more and more distant. When we first met, she would respond almost immediately to my affectionate texts, but she rarely even read them now. When I would try to sit next to her on the apartment stairs and share a cigarette, she would turn away from me and hurry back inside. Once, I tried to unlock the apartment door after my morning walk, but I found that maintenance had installed new locks that required an app to unlock them. As was usual now, she didn’t respond to any of my calls or messages when I tried to let her know I was locked out.

Being locked out was my final straw. I’d quit my job for her. I’d moved across the country at the drop of a hat for her. Hell, I’d even gotten her name tattooed on my arm. And she couldn’t even be bothered to remember to tell me that the door had new locks? I should have never done all of this for such an ungrateful person. Did she even care about me? I marched outside and headed in the direction of the hospital. It was a bad idea, going to see her at work while I was that angry, but I couldn’t help it. She was being a bitch, and she needed to know. I stepped into the street, and everything went white.

Lettie

My shift was only halfway through when I heard the loudspeaker announce that we had a pedestrian vs. city bus victim coming in. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later, wheeling in a mangled, bloodied, heap of a person. This looked bad.

“Middle aged male, tripped off the sidewalk and landed in front of an oncoming bus” the paramedic announced. “Pulse is weak, blood pressure is 85/40….” as he continued spouting off concerning vitals, I could only focus on one thing-the tattoo on his bicep. It looked familiar. Finally, I recognized it. It was a tattoo of my name. My name. I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream, but nothing came out.

Tony

Apparently the accident was a month ago. It could’ve been yesterday, or last year for all I know. I’m partially paralyzed now, missing my left arm, and can’t form a coherent sentence. Lettie hasn’t come to visit once. She ruined my life, and she can’t even be bothered to come apologize.

Lettie

It wasn’t long ago that I was tearfully calling my mother to tell her I was moving to California. It felt like it was going to kill me, leaving my family, my friends, my job. But I couldn’t keep living the way that I was. Today, when my mother answers the phone, I immediately burst into tears again.

“I’m coming home” I tell her. “He can’t hurt me anymore.”

What a relief it is to say it. Tony can never hurt me again. He can never sneak into my apartment while I’m gone. He can never come find me at work. Never try to touch me while I’m smoking on the stairs, or harass me on the street. Years and years of sneaking around, hiding out, living in fear. It’s all come to a sudden end. Thank God for that city bus.