Horror: Riding the Bus

“Is this seat taken?”
I’m startled awake. Must have just dozed off. I look up, scrambling to come up with an excuse to save myself from actual human interaction, but the blue eyes staring down at me make my words catch in my throat.
I stammer something that must at least resemble a positive answer because she slides into the seat next to me.
We sit in silence as the bus bumps along. As I’m wracking my brain for something, anything, to say she startles me for a second time.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” She’s staring past me out the window at a day that I would hardly call beautiful. Dark clouds and misting rain make the world appear dreary and wet. I can hardly remember the last truly beautiful day we had here.
She’s staring at me expectantly, so I nod and say “sure if you don’t have to leave your house.” She raises her eyebrows and looks pointedly out the window. She’s looking at me like I’m crazy. I turn to look out the window, you know, just to make sure I’m not. But no the day is still soggy and dark.
She giggles, apparently having decided that I’m joking. Her smile is infectious and I can’t help but to grin back. I feel oddly relieved that she doesn’t seem to hold my dislike of rainy days against me. Why this woman’s opinion of me matters so much I can’t explain. I suddenly feel like the rest of my life hinges on making her like me.
Unfortunately, my tongue seems to have lost it’s ability to function unless asked a direct question. I’m not usually a social idiot but I chalk it up to having had an awful day. I had actually been in a pretty foul mood for most of the day.
I’m looking down at my boots, willing myself to be charming, funny, normal at least, when I notice her purple flip flops. I had been doing my best not to stare and come across as a creep but now I glance up to take in the rest of her outfit. She’s wearing a yellow sundress and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her shiny brown hair. She’s like a ray of sunshine lighting up this dreary day. Optimistic, if not particularly practical.
“So, where are you headed?” I finally ask
“Oh, just a get together with family” she replies. “I’m actually really late” she says, smile faltering for the first time.
“I’m sure everything will be fine” I say not wanting her to lose that smile. “What kind of get together is it anyway?”
She grins again, “it’s my birthday.”
“Happy Birthday!” I tell her, then “they can’t really start without you at your own party, now can they?”
“Guess not” she replies. “Do you always ride the bus?’
“Oh no,” I answer quickly, not wanting her to think I’m some bum who doesn’t even own a car, which is ironic considering she is also riding the bus. “I had a little accident yesterday and my car is in the shop.” My mood momentarily darkens. I barely have a moment to think about it though before she pipes in, “No way, me too. What a coincidence.”
“Yeah, weird,” I say, although I don’t really find it that weird considering the weather. There were probably plenty of wrecks yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if there several today too. Peaple seem to forget how to drive as soon as a drop of water falls from the sky.
Most don’t have the help of Jack Daniels though, do they? A voice in the back of my mind whispers. I push it away, a drink never hurt anyone and certainly hadn’t caused my little fender bender.
“So,” I say trying to get away from that voice inside my head, “was there much damage to your car?”
She looks perplexed for a moment. “I…I guess I didn’t get a good look with all that was going on right after…” She’s frowning now, thinking hard.
I smirk, girls never pay attention when it comes to cars. “Well, it couldn’t have been too bad. You’re not hurt are you? “ She shakes her head. “That’s what insurance is for right? ”She smiles and nods but still looks uneasy.
“How about you? Much damage?” she asks.
“Nah, not bad at all” I answer quickly. “It could have been much worse.” Especially since you probably could have walked a straight line at the time, the voice adds. I tell myself that’s an exaggeration. A couple of drinks after work aren’t a danger to anyone. Especially someone who indulges in that particular vice more than occasionally.
Outside, the weather seems to be trying to match her brightness. The clouds are parting making the remaining raindrops glisten in the sun. I suppose maybe she is dressed appropriately after all.
We ride in companionable silence. Though we’ve just met and hardly spoken, I feel drawn to this girl. I’m not usually this hopelessly romantic, actually I’m the stereotypical cynic, but this girl makes me feel as if I’ve known her my whole life.
The day is brightening at an exponential rate that I wouldn’t have thought possible. It’s so bright now that I can barely look out the window without squinting. Almost bright enough to make my head ache but I’ve never felt happier or more alive. A feeling of general well-being floods through me like I’ve never felt before.
“I think my stop is coming up” she says suddenly. I snap out of my thoughts and am immediately disappointed. The good feelings I had had evaporate.
As the bus slows the sun is so bright I can just barely make out the large group of people waiting on the shoulder for her. I look around trying to gauge our location but it doesn’t really look familiar to me. As she stands to leave I grab her hand almost desperately. “Wait, what’s your name?” I ask suddenly realizing we hadn’t even introduced ourselves.
She miles the brightest smile yet and says, “Sky”. I barely have time to think about how perfectly that fits her before she turns to go. “Hey” I practically shout, “do you think maybe we could…I don’t know….go to dinner sometime?”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment then she says, “maybe we will see each other again. I hope so” and with that she turns to rush down the aisle and into the arms of her family.
My mouth is hanging open and my heart has dropped into my stomach. I had been so sure there was a connection between us but clearly it was one sided. The bus drives on and as my mood darkens so does the sky.
Why would she want a drunk like you anyway? The little voice asks. Well, so what, I counter, tired of fighting my own thoughts. In fact I could really go for a drink about now. I consider getting off the bus at the next stop and finding the closest bar, but notice how dark that day has gotten. The clouds are piled up and nearly black. The sun, so bright just minutes before, is nowhere to be found. Oh well, better just wait until I’m home. I wouldn’t want to get caught in the rain. I lean back in my seat and close my eyes.
Suddenly, I feel uneasy. Almost like the feeling you get when someone’s looking at you, but worse. I open my eyes and look around. It’s at this point that I realize we appear to be headed in the wrong direction. We’re no where near my neighborhood.
“Hey,” I call out, “I thought this bus was supposed to be headed the other direction. No answer from up front, but suddenly my heart is pounding.
I look out the window and see that we are approaching the intersection of 1st and Main. My mouth goes dry and sweat breaks out on my brow.
Why should I feel this anxious just approaching this intersection? It’s the site of my wreck but hey it wasn’t that bad. Barely worse than a fender bender.
The bus screeches to a stop. I try to keep facing straight ahead but it’s like someone else is operating my body. My head turns slowly toward the window. I want so badly to squeeze my eyes shut but they refuse to obey me.
At first the corner looks normal, until I see the cross, stuck down in the dirt right beside the sidewalk. That’s when it all comes crashing back.
It was an overcast day like this one. I had gone to work hung over and still a little drunk for what would turn out to be the last time. My boss had had enough and fired me on the spot. What could I do in that situation but head to the bar? If I stayed out all day I wouldn’t have to explain to my wife why I’m home so early. I could do some job hunting tomorrow and maybe she’d never need to know about this.
As soon as I walked through the door after a long day of drinking, she could tell that something wasn’t right. Despite the breath mints and last minute coffee in an attempt to sober up. My drinking was no secret but she thought I was doing better, going to meetings and staying sober for the most part.
Somehow I’m able to convince her that I had just had a bad day at work. She reminds me of the appointment that I had forgotten entirely about. I jump back into the car and race down the street. I know that I shouldn’t be going this fast sober, much less in my current condition but I refuse to miss this appointment. As I approach the intersection of 1st and Main, just blocks from my destination, the rain starts to come down. The lines on road are already swimming before my eyes and the rain doesn’t help visibility at all. I feel the car starting to veer into the other lane, but my reflexes are too slow to pull it back around. The oncoming truck tried to miss me, but never had a chance. The impact was enormous, though it only made a dull crunching sound. I was tossed around as the car flipped over onto it’s hood and then back upright. Metal and glass litter the road in front of me. Blood gushes from my head and the world goes fuzzy. I look to my left and everything is suddenly back in clear focus as I see my wife. I’m horrified to see that most of her face has been obliterated. Her brown hair is matted with blood and white flecks that I’d rather not consider.
Though she’s clearly mortally wounded, her remaining eye finds me and she tries to reach for me. I somehow grab her hand though my arm appears to be broken. I start to ramble incoherently and try to apologize. As if that matters now. A tear falls from her eye. I know she’s thinking of her family. They’re all waiting for us just minutes away, unaware that we will never make it to the restaurant. See, its’ her birthday today. She takes one last shuddering breath and my wife, my beautiful Sky, is gone. The memory is so vivid that I feel as if I’m thrown back into my seat on the bus when it’s over. That’s how it always is. I know that now, though I’ll forget soon enough and go through it all over again. They say that hell is all fire and brimstone and little red men with pitchforks, but for me it’s just a long bus ride through eternity. Reliving the best and worst days of my life. Meeting and losing the love of my life over and over again. My eyes are swollen and achey from crying. I lean my head against the window, thinking I’ll just rest them for a minute. Just as I doze off I’m startled awake by a voice asking, “Is this seat taken?”