Misunderstanding Bus Encounter

The Girl:

I was trying to keep my eyes on anything, anyone but him. The chewed up piece of gum stuck to the bus aisle floor, an Italian old man dressed in his Sunday best with his hair and curly cue grey mustache with not a hair out place or sticky yellowish substance that I hoped to God was apple juice that was on the pristine white pants of a smart looking business women. Just anywhere but him, Craig. He was my ex-boyfriend of five years. Craig was by no means the captain of the football team type he was more the silent art guy who always had paint on his freckled face or dirty blonde hair that if the light hit it just right, it looked like it was glowing. He would always smell of paper, acrylic paint and fresh spring air. Even in this rank smelling New York bus that had layers of smoke on its seats or spilt alcohol, I could still smell it even if he was ten feet away. He was the art geek while I was the science nerd. I didn’t think he would ever look at me until pottery class. Craig turned towards me at that moment while I was trying to calculate the time by the speed of the bus to my stop. I tried to shrink into my oversized blue sweater, hoping he wouldn’t notice me and my secret but I knew it was unless.

The Boy:

It was her. I would bet my best painting on it. Skylar. Her hair was the first thing that stood out, the shoulder length unruly mop that could never be tamed. The second thing was the big black framed glasses out of the eighties that only she seemed to pull off. I remember the first day we meet like it was yesterday. It was junior year in pottery class when we were supposed to making a simple vase but hers looked more like an ash tray and not a good one. A six year old could have done better to put it lightly. I helped her, one thing lead to another and soon we graduated as boyfriend and girlfriend. Things were going great, we rented an apartment. But one day Skylar found my phone with text messages from my friend, Tracy, saying last night was so tiring, you sure got a lot of stamina and that last one took so long. She flipped out, starting accusing me of cheating and walked out in tears before I could explain. Skylar didn’t know Tracy was a guy and he was helping me wedding ring shop. Obviously for her. I tried explaining it to her but she is so thick headed. Soon her stuff was out of the apartment and she moved in with her aunt. I haven’t seen Skylar in over five months but it felt like years but she seemed to be getting along just fine by the looks of it from the pregnant belly I could clearly see no matter how hard she shrunk down in her bus seat. It looked like she was almost eight months along. Now who’s the cheater?

The Girl:

Our eyes met for a second, steel grey with sea foam green. It was just for a second but a whole battle happened within it. Messages were sent, betrayal, hurt, lost and disgust. The baby or should I say babies were his. I found out I was pregnant the day I found his cheating text messages and I couldn’t believe what he said that it was just a guy friend. What guy would talk to another guy like that? The math didn’t add up and math is always right. My babies were not going to grow up in a broken home like me. The breaks squeaked loudly at my stop. Craig just watched as I struggled to stand until the old Italian man gave me a hand. Soon I waddled out into the loud New York City with my hand on my belly. I stopped before going down the steps, contemplating if I should look back at him, the once thought soul mate, but shoved that thought away, continuing down the steps. Just like he shoved me out of his life.