The Bus

If she had known the line for the ticket counter would be so long, she might’ve arrived at a different time. Too late for that now, she thought. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t have gobs full of luggage. The family in front of her sure did. Five people and 500 suitcases, or so it seemed. Every time the line moved, it took them ten extra minutes to gather each kid, and then each bag, and then the tugging and pushing and yelling to “move it!”...it was creating a lightning bolt of pain behind her eyes.

Maybe she could’ve chosen a different line. Did she really want to go to Birmingham? She didn’t know anyone there. But, that was part of the reason for the choice, right? One of the kids bumped into her and she almost spilled her coffee. She tried to back up but there were too many bodies in that direction as well. She started to doubt this whole plan. If only she could’ve been more patient. More kind. If only HE could’ve been more patient and kind. And her kids…there was no kindness coming from that direction, definitely not.

They all were finished with each other. At least for the foreseeable future. What had started as a beautiful life full of promise and love had turned into hell on earth. Tim had always been exactly who he was, who he is. And how is it that their children had all, all three of them, had his eyes, his personality, his sarcasm, his hate? She kept hoping, especially when the third was born, for some semblance of her-ness in there. Did that one look like her grandmother? Maybe just a bit?

“Next,” the man at the counter shouted into the crowd. As the parents of the kids pushed them forward to the front, the smallest one tripped and burst into deafening screams.

Oh good grief, she thought. Somebody needs to just put them on the bus already.

Wait, would they be on HER bus? Surely not. There are so many buses, what are the chances? Small chances, right?

She wished she had one of those modern suitcases, the ones with wheels that spun in a circle with ease. Hers had no wheels at all. It must be 40 years old by now. Her parents had given it to her when she went to college, the traditional going away gift. Not that it had seen much use. The honeymoon she was promised had been postponed so many times that it was eventually forgotten all together. She thought about giving it to her own son when he left for school, but she knew what reaction that would have received. So it stayed in the closet, year after year. Until today.

Last night was the final straw. She had tried to ask him about his day. He said what he always said. Fine. But this time her heart started to race and she couldn’t see straight. The youngest daughter was blasting rap music from her room (how many times have I told you to turn that down?!). She walked into her bedroom and closed the door. If she left now, what would they do? Would they say a word? Would they notice? She opened the closet door and stared at the old suitcase. She closed the closet door. Maybe a shower will calm me down, she thought.

It didn’t. The next morning was no different. No new day was ever any different.

She packed quickly and without thought. under ware, socks, pants, a few shirts, the money she’d been secretly squirreling away. She hadn’t known why she was hiding the money. Maybe just so that something was her own. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough for a month or so. How much cheaper life would be on her own! The thought of making her own decisions was like a drug.

“Next,” came the voice. She slid her ticket across the counter. The man asked her if she had any flammables or explosives in her bag. Really, she thought? Don’t you need to scan all the bags for things like that? She’d never been on a bus before, not this kind.

A school bus, yes, but that was a million years ago. ‘No,” she replied.

“You’re on bus 178, it’ll be in the second line down on your left,” he said as he handed the ticket back to her.

She picked up the suitcase and turned towards the outer door where the buses were in long lines and the people were scattering in all directions. She pushed through the crowd. Diesel fumes, add that to the list of annoyances on this day. And how annoying it was that, when buses are all parked so close together, and their numbers are on the front, how are you supposed to find your way?

But there it was, not too far down the line. The driver took her ticket and told her to set her bag down,and that they would load it for her.

“Do you need anything out of your bag before we take it?”

She didn’t know what to say to that question, and must have had an odd look on her face.

“I don't think so?”

She climbed the stairs and took her seat, halfway down the row of a mostly empty bus. There were no children. Thank the Lord, she thought.

She put her coffee in the cup holder and her coat beside her. What all HAD she put in that suitcase exactly? Did she really just walk out of her house, where she’d lived for 37 years, with nothing but a suitcase? She can remember packing the clothes and money. There had been a picture on the bedside table of her parents, she did grab that. Of course it would be impossible to pack every little thing that had meaning. But maybe she should’ve given it more thought. Her old journals…what if the kids got into those? What a scandal that would cause. Oh, her mother’s china! Will Tim be so angry that he smashes it all? So many pictures…the kids, her ancestors, old friends, that one picture of her dog Rosy from so many years ago. A pain went through her. She closed her eyes. “I can go back. I can still get it all back.” But was that true? Only time would tell. A tear ran down her cheek.

The driver came up the steps and welcomed them all, the few riders there were, to the bus to Birmingham. Travel time 5 hours and 37 minutes. She thought about jumping up and getting off. If she was going to get off, it had to be now. Her body stayed still. She stared ahead. Her mind was a whirlwind of pressure, but she stayed seated.

The driver sat down and spoke into a microphone, telling the station he was pulling out. The voice confirmed. She sat still and didn’t blink. The bus slowly moved forward. I’m really leaving, she thought.

And she did.