The bad: Fed up with James trying to run her life, Ella hangs up on her boyfriend at the bus stop.
The worse: Having to share the bus ride home with middle-aged drifters.
But the worst of all? The skinny, shell of a man in the business suit next to her starting to cry. Can people not just keep their problems to themselves for once?
A coming-of-age story that reminds us not to judge others before we know them.
Interchange
“That’s ridiculous, James!” ella said into her mobile, grateful there was no one else at the bus stop to hear her. The traffic whooshed past on the four-lane road, kicked up the smell of hot asphalt and petrol fumes. “I think I’m capable of running my own life, thanks.” She glanced up at the approaching bus juddering its way toward her—an old one, all orange and sky blue. “Look,” she said. “I’ve got to go. I’ve no doubt we’ll discuss this later. Bye.”
She hung up on James, thinking as she did how irritating he was becoming. This was the third time he’d expressed disapproval over her plans to go down the coast the weekend before exams. As if the break wouldn’t settle her nerves. She shook her head in disgust.
The bus doors hissed open as it stopped, sending the smell of oil and hot hydraulics into the back of Ella’s throat as she stepped up inside.
“Student, please,” she said curtly. Ignoring the driver’s brief glance at her cleavage, she scanned the bus for an empty seat. The bus stank of old sweat and musty upholstery, nearly full with students and old folk on the way home from bingo. And of course, the occasional middle-aged drifter, taking up space. And leering, like they had the chance to do anything more than look. Ella snorted in disgust.
She spied a seat, halfway down on the left side, and swept down the aisle, flinging herself onto the worn blue seat and wishing, yet again, that she could afford a car.
Scooting over against the window, her thoughts returned to James.
How dare he, she thought. It’s my life, it’s my money, I can go away if and when I please, thank you very much.
Perhaps it was time for a change. She’d been seeing James for what, like two months now? She nodded to herself. That guy in her English class was pretty cute. Ben. I think he’s Ben.
The bus arrived at the interchange, interrupting her musings. Half of the passengers disembarked and a new horde of students climbed on to take their place.
The last passenger caused Ella to wrinkle her nose—yet another middle-aged man. Briefly, she wondered why there were so many of them on the buses.
Why do these losers not have cars?
The latest specimen headed her way and realisation hit her: the only free seat left was next to her.
She set her handbag firmly on the seat, and shook her head. He didn’t seem to see her.
He slid in without a word of apology, a skinny shell of a man taking up far less than half the seat.
The handbag sat like an immutable barrier between them. Ella stared resolutely out the window, hoping that her new companion didn’t have too far to travel. She was a good half hour away from her stop, but if he was still there when she had to get off… Well, the last thing she needed was another middle-aged man staring at her butt.
She shuddered slightly at the thought, and examined him out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t really look like the butt-staring type, but sometimes they didn’t. He was on a bus, after all.
She was about to resume her internal rant at James when—horror of all horrors—the man began to cry. Just softly, and Ella looked around in a covert panic to see if anyone else had noticed.
No one else has noticed, he probably doesn’t expect me to notice, it’s all okay, just ignore him. She stared out the window.
Ella decided that he mustn’t have any tissues, as she couldn’t think of any other reason why he would sniff so horribly. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for him. Then she remembered that she still didn’t know how far he was travelling, and the sympathy faded.
Soon enough, though, the man leaned forward to push the ‘stop’ button. The purple light up the front of the bus came on. Ella sagged in relief. No butt-staring after all.
She lurched forward as the bus jolted to a stop. The doors opened, and the purple light winked out. The man wiped his face and slid into the aisle.
The doors closed and the bus pulled back into the traffic before Ella glanced down, and noticed the black leather wallet on the seat.