Bus Ride

I had my headphones on pretending to listen to the my iPod. I had turned the music down and had been eavesdropping since 42nd street when the man had decided that since he and I and she were the only ones on the bus, they could argue. He figured I couldn't hear him. She was beautiful. Her skin was dark and creamy. Her features were striking. She was by far too lovely for him. He asked her to sit closer to him. She said she was comfortable, she liked looking out the window. He pouted. "Come sit next to me" he whined. She gave a half grin and said something to the effect of the man she loved not being so insecure. As a woman, I saw how it was meant to be playful banter, but the look in his eyes changed. He grabbed her waist and slid her over the hard plastic seats that every bus in town had. I knew that the pseudo bucket seat had hurt her tail bone as he pulled her over. Her demeanor changed. She looked frightened but more so confused. He leaned into kiss her and she closed her eyes, but she waiting as though she thought someone was about to toss a glass of cold water on her. He kissed her and kept his eyes open the entire time. She kissed back. Nothing extreme. The kiss of someone who was aware of another person in the room or in this case, on the bus. Her hands stayed on her lap. She had done this scene before. She knew that there was no way to win. She knew she had to take what was coming and yet she didn't know if it was going to be good or bad. With the man's back to me, I could see her perfectly. He was doing this show for me and her. Here I was with my school books on the bus to my cozy apartment straight from day at work and night at community college...he knew she longed to be me... Independent. He wanted to show me what it was like to be owned and show her what it was that she lived as now. A slave to the heart. His hands went to the back of her neck and he tilted her head for her. Her brow didn't move into a grimace as mine did. I wouldn't stand for that. His right hand made it's way under her armpit and grabbed her shoulder from the back. His action forced her to put her left arm on his shoulder. At this point, an passersby would see two people in love. Since I had been there through the pout, I knew what the true story was. He pushed her shoulder down and the movement made her body naturally turn into his kiss. She was completely his puppet. I watched entranced. They continued to kiss and caress. His hands did all the work. He placed perfectly. She was his doll. There was no emotion on her face or heavy breathing from her. This was her job. She hated it just like the guy at the fast food place hates making fries and finds something else to occupy his mind with as he does the mundane task. I wondered what she was thinking of. Was she dreaming about clothes and shoes and parties? Was she wishing she loved him more? Was she longing for the days when she did? I lived in a world where I was completely fulfilled. Had I been so selfish for so long that I forgot that other people out in the realm I wasn't in were miserable? How often did my friends call me or text me with stories of depression and anger towards others and I dismissed them as miserable people? Constantly. This woman was a stranger to me. I didn't know who this woman that loathed the man touching her was, yet I was more compelled to feel sorry for her at that moment. This miserable woman could have been my sister or friend .... Or both. I wanted to console her. I wanted to tell her she could be happy alone. She didn't need him. A red light and a strike of lightening snapped me out of my peeping Tom fantasy and back to reality. I pulled the string to signal that I was ready to exit the bus. This wasn't my stop, but I knew I needed to get off. At the moment the bell "dinged" to signify to the driver that I wanted to leave, the man pulled away from the caress. Not in shock. Not to see if he had missed his stop. Just to stop. The show he was putting on for me was over. The lesson he was teaching the girl for longing for the independence she saw in my youth and presence was over. He had made his mark. He had separated the two women he saw as threatening.

Reviews

[J Stylez]

I normally don't comment on anyone's work but I do find this striking. Not just the content, which is very compelling on it's own, but the nature of the story. It's amazing what you witness when no one thinks you're listening. At the same time, it's a little creepy what people will do when they feel you're watching. Great work!