Bus Stop Lover

A Story by Lily Legrand

1.1

And the snow falls, the streets are wet and it’s dark, here I am with my suitcase that weighs almost half as much as I do and my knuckles are red and my wrists are bruised and I know it’s not far to the train station. I buy a ticket and a snickers. When lifting my heavy case into the train my carrier bag falls of my tired shoulder, but I just sit down and my eyes get heavy and this is when the ticket inspectors come. And I can’t find my ticket. And I know I bought one and it must have fallen out when I dropped my bag and the panic attack keeps creeping closer, so I just give him my details because I know, tonight I will leave and I won’t come back so fast and the address on my I.D is an old one.

1.2

Finally I am at the bus terminal and I feel so bad for eating a hot-dog, I can’t help but throwing it up in the bathroom that is filthy and wet of footsteps. I spend my last money on some stamps for a postcard to a friend and 2 bottles of water. All the other people that are waiting there with me look unfriendly, old, like they are afraid to take a plane and that’s why they’re taking a bus for 10 hours. For me it’s because I couldn’t get a flight- and the bus company offers cheap deals when you book in advance, and I know that the bus will drop me off in the middle of London. But then I see a boy my age, maybe younger. He only has a backpack, tousled dark hair. My suitcase feels so big, ridiculous almost superficial how shiny and pink it is. He’s thin, has a soft look on his face. Probably gay. Or maybe visiting his girlfriend in London. I see a couchsurfer badge on his rucksack and I immediately feel like we have something in common and I want to chat to him but can’t so I light a cigarette.

1.3

There is an old guy in the bus who keeps staring at me who looks like a hobo that wants to rob me. When I am travelling I always dress well. Fresh jeans, a nice shirt, a plain v-neck jumper and my favourite trench coat. I also have an oversized leather bag that I actually bought really cheaply, but it looks posh. I apply some hand lotion and look for the pretty boy. He sits on his own, a couple of rows in front of my. Just like hobo-man stares at me I can’t stop looking at him. After a while I feel too creepy and it’s time to take a nap.

1.4

We stop at a petrol station and this is when I notice how many more people have gotten onto the bus while I slept. I am paranoid about running out of water, so I refill my bottles and get a sandwich. It is dry and disgusting, I swallow anyway and linger outside till pretty boy comes out. He’s just standing there quiet close to me and I really, really want to talk to him and so does he. After two minutes or so he turns towards me and says: “So you’re heading to London” “Yeah, you too?” “Yep” “It’s my first time” “Really?” We just keep chatting and head back to the bus where I finally ask: “Do you want to sit with me?”

1.5

He has something lonely, different to him and he is so refreshingly curious- I like him. His lips are just a fine line, his eyes are hazel, his jaw chiselled. I can tell he thinks I’m nice.We like the same music. We talk about Berlin, Amsterdam, Sydney. It’s late and people are sleeping, so I lean against the window, eyes half closed. “You can lean against me” I suggest and so he does. We reposition somewhat and comfortably fall asleep together. I have never done this with anyone before but I just trust him and he trusts me, his shoulder is soft yet firm- there are no worries in the world right now.

1.6

When we wake up because the bus driver pulled up somewhere for a stop again there is a smile on his face and I ask him if he has a girlfriend. The answer is yes and I too answer honestly about my boyfriend. I use the bathroom at the petrol station, climb back into the bus, sit next to him again. “At least I know you won’t stalk me as you have a girlfriend” “And you won’t stalk me” “Maybe on facebook” “Ok, facebook doesn’t count”. When we cuddle back together to fall asleep again and look at each other, we kiss. And then again. And when one last time our lips touch we both feel that it’s been enough. It’s a deal. No more cheating. I lean my head against him again and close my eyes to drift off.