The 29
I am cold. I’m not wearing a hat. I forgot my gloves at home. When I left the house, I didn’t think it was that cold, so I just stuck my hands in my jacket pocket and kept walking. By the time I got to the avenue, about five blocks from home, I was freezing. That’s when I realized I forgot my glasses too. Too late to walk back home. Just hope the bus comes soon.
I stand there stomping my feet, my arms hugging my sides and my hands dug in deep, turning my back to the wind. I look up the avenue and I see lots of cars, a few delivery trucks, but no bus. Now I’m thinking of going home anyway. It’s 4:30 in the afternoon. I have to be at work at 5:15, and I don’t get out until eleven. If Jimmy and Mariann aren’t working tonight, I won’t get a ride home. Catching the bus at that hour, when it’s even colder and darker to boot, isn’t appealing.
The closest phone booth on the avenue is two blocks away and the bus doesn’t stop on that corner. I know. I tried that two weeks ago. As I was waiting for my friend to pick up, I saw the bus coming, hung up and ran to the corner, my hands in a praying position. I was wearing my glasses that day, so I could see the driver’s face. I begged the driver, “Please,” I said. Know what he did? He smiled and gave me the finger. Can you believe that?
Anyway, I’m standing on the right corner now, next to the bus stop sign. And then I think I see the three orange-yellow lights the busses all have over the number that runs across the front of the bus. I’m praying again, “Make it the 29, please.” As it gets closer, I realize it’s just another delivery truck. Now I curse under my breath or maybe I say the word out loud. I can see my breath as I exhale. I look around and to my surprise I see a guy standing behind me.
“You said what I was thinking man.” He laughs. “It’s not even twenty degrees out here, bro.” I nod as I look at this guy. He’s got an Afro and a beard, wearing a navy pea coat and engineer boots.
“You waiting for the 29?”
“No man. I never take the bus. Just hate the cold. My girl’s picking me up. If she doesn’t get here soon, she’s gonna be looking for a new man.”
His girl. He had to remind me. My girl dumped me for a college guy. He dressed a lot like the guy standing next to me now. She said, “I need a man who has a destination in mind, a man who knows you can’t get there by bus.” She refused to ride the bus too. I always had to borrow my father’s car, or my brother’s truck when we went out.
I suppose that’s why I’m standing here on the avenue waiting for the 29. I’m trying to save up to buy a car. Maybe she’ll come back to me if I have wheels.
“You can get the wheels, man, but in my experience with dames like that, if it’s not the wheels it’s something else. If she loves you she’s with you, even if it’s on the bus.”
I had no idea I was thinking out loud again. Maybe when it gets this cold you need a hat to keep your thoughts to yourself. Way off in the distance I see those three lights again, orange and yellow. I ask the guy with the Afro for the time. He tells me and I shake my head. The bus should have been here by now. If the lights coming this way aren’t the 29, then he’s really late, which means I’ll probably be late for work.
A white Ford Taurus pulls up. The woman inside blows the horn. My companion smiles and says, “Warmth is only seconds away my man. You want a lift?”
“You don’t know where I’m headed.”
“Don’t matter, Chelsea will take you.”
The lights are getting closer, the outline of the bus is clear now. I shake my head no. I hate sitting in the back seat. He gives me a quick wave and jumps into the Ford. He kisses his girl and they take off. I imagine the car’s heater turned up full blast. The bus is close now, I can make out the logo but when I look for the number, 29 it’s not there. The bus slows down. The driver looks familiar. He points to the sign where the number should be. It says Out of Service.
He smiles and gives me the finger. I stomp my feet, trying to warm up.