I barely make it on time to the Greyhound Depot to catch my bus. It starts to rain about five blocks from the depot. I‘m thoroughly soaked through by the time I arrive there. My hair is dripping wet, and rain has somehow found its way inside my jacket. I run towards the bus depot; my backpack is bouncing up and down on my back like a snare drum. The bouncing has the added effect of inducing a migraine headache. I step onto the bus and hand the bus driver my ticket. “Oh, sorry, I’m sorry. I got a late start. “
Greyhound Bus-Peter Wolf-Pixabay
I take one look at the bus, and I see it is packed to the gills. “Shit, shit, shit,” I look at the driver and shrug my shoulders. “There aren’t any seats left; I purchased this ticket two weeks ago.”
“Yes, mam, there is. It’s in the second to last row on your left, next to the window.”
“Oh yeah, sorry, I see it. Thanks.”
I make my way halfway down the center aisle and trip over some guy’s foot that’s sticking out. He all but shouts at me, “Hey lady, lookout, are you blind or what?”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see it sticking out. I didn’t expect someone to have their foot sticking out in the aisle so they could trip someone. And I give him one of my biggest smiles and flutter my lashes at him. And walk on. I mutter under my breath, “asshole.”
I notice as I cruise down the center aisle that all the other passengers have their heads down for some reason. Huh, I think what’s this all about? I try and catch someone’s attention, but no one looks my way. Then I think, oh maybe they’re all mad because I was late. Oh well, nothing I can do about that now.
I finally make it down the gauntlet of sad, distracted faces to my empty seat. I hear a weird noise. First, there is a sniffing sound. I think someone has a cold. And then I realize it’s the person in the seat next to mine. Great, now I’m going to catch a cold for crying out loud. I look at her. Tears are streaming down her flushed cheeks. I hear three loud sniffs, and then the crying starts and steadily increases until she is full-out sobbing. I take a step back. I look from left to right. I see no other course of action, no place else to go. I look at the people on the right and the left. Then I do an about-face and look at the passengers in the middle and the front.
About half of them have plugged in their headphones and have their heads down. The rest are staring out the windows. Probably wish they were anywhere but here on this stupid bus ride to hell. I turn back around and look at my seat.
“Excuse me,” I say to the crying young woman. “But this is my seat next to you. Could you move over so I can sit down?”
She slowly raises the armrest and blows her nose a couple of times on a tissue she has tucked up her sweater sleeve. I hear a honk, honk. I think, dear god, what is that noise? Then, I realize it’s the young woman blowing her nose. She slowly gets up, and I mean slowly, and moves over to the window seat. She doesn’t say a word, nada, anything at all. She just slides over and continues crying, with her head hanging low. Her chin is almost resting on her chest.
I pull off my backpack and unsnap one of the side pockets and pull out my headphones. I put my pack on the rack above my head with some difficulty. I’m not the tallest person in the world, and I have short arms to boot. I finally shove it in and plop down in my seat. It’s only 7:55 am, and I’m exhausted. And there’s a thirteen-hour and fifteen-minute bus trip ahead of me. Oh well, I, think I’ll just take a nap, and that way I can get some rest and kill some time.
And that’s when I realize that I don’t have my migraine medicine with me. And I know that this is going to be the most interminable trip of my life. It was a mistake flopping down in my seat, too, as that has made my migraine pain even worse. I start to feel nauseous. My head is pounding as if it might explode. I begin worrying about how often they clean the bathroom on these Greyhound buses.
Somehow, I manage to fall asleep over the road noises and over the sobbing of my bus companion. As I’m about to drift off, I think, what in the world has happened to this girl to make her cry like this, non-stop and within hearing distance of everyone on the bus? And also, why am I so unlucky? Why did I end up sitting next to this weeping young woman? And then I realize it was my fault for being late leaving and being the last person to get on the bus. And that’s all I remember until I woke up about an hour later.
As I started to wake up, I hear a weird noise. I don’t immediately remember where I am. And then I hear a honking. Honk, honk, honk. It’s my seat companion. Blowing her nose once again. Dear god, is she still crying, I think? I look over at her. Her eyes are so swollen from crying. I can hardly see her eyes. Her nose is red. She starts pressing her fisted hands on her eyes and rubbing them back and forth. I stare at her. She seems to have forgotten that I’m sitting next to her. I try and decide what the best course of action is. Short of throwing myself out the window. Or at the very least, getting on a different bus at our first rest stop.
I stare at her red and puffy eyes and think. What would I want someone to do if the circumstances were reversed, and I was the one who couldn’t stop crying? Would I prefer people just ignored me or someone asks me if I’m alright?
“Excuse me; my name is Marilyn Carter. I know it’s none of my business, but you seem so upset. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She looks over at me with a surprised expression on her face that says, where did you come from? She is still sniffling, and tears are running down her cheeks, but she isn’t sobbing anymore. I see her gulp. And then she clears her throat. “Oh, I didn’t even notice you were sitting there. And the short answer is no; I’m not alright. Four days ago, I was laid off from my job. Well, they called it a layoff]. But I won’t be called back. I loved that job. It was the first job I had where I felt I was making a real difference. I moved away from Raleigh to take the job. A place where I had spent my whole life. All my friends live there, and so does my family.”
As she mentions family, she starts crying again. I wait for her to continue. “And that morning before I got to work, I got a call from my father. He told me that my mother had a heart attack, and passed away. So, today I’m going home for the funeral. And while I’m there, I’m going to decide if I should go back to Philadelphia and look for another job there. Or if I should just go and pack up all my stuff in my apartment in Philly and move back to Raleigh and try to find a job there.”
“What did you say your name was, dear?”
“My name? Oh, of course, I’m sorry. I told you my whole life story, and you don’t even know who I am. My name is Candace Mickleton. I’m not in the habit of crying in public. I know this sounds dramatic, but I feel like my heart is broken. It hurts to keep breathing. Just the very act of breathing is painful. I love my mother so much. I called her every day. She always believed in me even when I struggled for so long, trying to find out what I wanted to do in my life. She was always there for me, telling me she knew I will be successful and not to ever lose faith in myself. And then to lose my job so unexpectedly. It’s too much. I don’t feel like I can go on. I can’t think of a reason why I should go on.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I call you by your first name Candace. Please call me, Marilyn.”
“First, please let me say how sorry I am about your mother passing away. I remember when my mother died and how her loss made me feel broken, empty. I couldn’t imagine going the rest of my life without seeing her. Every day for weeks, the first thing I thought about was my mother and how I would never see her again or hear her voice, how I would never hear her tell me how proud she was of me. And how much she loved me.”
“Over time during the day, I started thinking about how my mother would not have wanted me to feel this bereft because of her. She only wanted the best for me. And whenever I started feeling bad, I thought about how lucky I was to have such a wonderful mother. And I started to do things that made me feel happy; I concentrated on all the good things I had in my life. I moved forward in my life instead of being stuck in that moment of loss. I decided that from that moment forward, I would be happy and successful in my life because that is what my mother would have wanted for me.”
“As for losing your job well, that was bad timing. Perhaps you need this time to heal from your mother’s loss. Take the time to recover and consider what you want your future to be. You said that your job was the first job you loved and were doing well. You could use that experience as a springboard to something even better. While you are in Raleigh, you’ll have the opportunity to talk to all your old friends and relatives. And who knows one of them might be aware of an opportunity in the Raleigh-Durham area. That you aren’t aware since, as you said, you haven’t lived here in quite a while.”
Candace gradually stops crying as she listens to Marilyn. And she realizes she’s right. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted her to stop living her life. She would want her to move forward into her future with her optimism. “Thank you, Marylyn, that is what I needed to hear. I feel like I can breathe again. My mother would want me to go on with my life and be happy and successful. I don’t know what I’m going to do about finding a job. But I will talk to my family and get their advice. I love living in Philadelphia. I have made so many friends there. And there is always something going on downtown. On the other hand, I don’t like the idea of my father living alone. “
“Candace, why don’t you give it a few days and then talk to your father? He is probably in shock right now. You might find that he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And wouldn’t want you to give up your life in the North East. Since he knows how happy you are there.”
“Thanks again Marilyn I’m so lucky that you were late getting to the bus station. And that you ended up sitting next to me.”
“Thanks, Candace, life has a way of bringing the right people into our lives when we need them. I think I’m going to take another little nap now. But if you like it at the rest stop what say I buy you a nice lunch. I know I didn’t take time to eat breakfast, and you probably didn’t, either.” And with that, Marilyn’s eyes close, and she falls fast asleep and begins snoring loudly.
Candace looks at Marilyn and smiles. And closes her own eyes and falls fast asleep as well.
A chance encounter brings hope to someone in need. A great story of hope.