“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I’ve got a spot right here on my handlebars for you.” He winked as he said this. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. This guy was trying to hit on me while riding his bicycle. I forced a smile on my face.
“No thanks. The bus will be here soon. Besides you’re going the opposite direction that I need to go.”
“Well I would turn around for you!” His face broke into a huge grin and I couldn’t help but return it with a genuine smile of my own. He was about 60 years old and absolutely adorable. He was one of the few older men who could hit on a young woman and it wasn’t creepy.
“Are you mixed?” This sudden question made no sense to me. My confusion must have been apparent on my face because he quickly clarified. “Are you all white?”
“Yeah, of course.” I was still confused. Did he think I was half black? Maybe half Asian? Half Hispanic? I was about as white as they come. What else would I be?
“You must be German. You’ve got German eyes.” German eyes, I thought, what did German eyes look like? He was right though, so he must be onto something. I nodded.
“My daughter is part German. Part Scandinavian too. Mixed with my black roots. She’s a beauty. I call her a black Shirley Temple ‘cuz she’s got these perfect curls. Pretty erotic huh?”
I was taken aback for a moment, but I quickly realized he had meant exotic. I faked a cough to hide the laugh I let escape. I didn’t bother to correct him. I was starting to feel sorry for this guy. Hitting on me while riding his bicycle and now he was talking about his daughter, whom he had mistakenly said was erotic. God I hoped he was mistaken.
“Well I suppose I should get going. It was nice to meet you.”
“Same to you.” I actually meant it too. He had made the wait a little more interesting.
“Stay pretty,” he yelled back as he pedaled away. I smiled to myself as I put my headphones back on. What a nice, but odd man.
As I listened to the tunes of Santana, I checked my watch. The bus was late as usual. I rocked back and forth to the beat of “Smooth.” I could never stand still when I was listening to my music. I was just happy to contain my urge to dance right there on the sidewalk. That sure would give other people something to look at.
I was impatient to get home. It was Tuesday, meaning American Idol was on TV tonight. Watching that show was my guilty pleasure, an hour escape from my homework. I often found myself singing along and dancing to these amateur singers with amazing vocals. It was a blessing that my roommates were usually gone on Tuesdays. The one time my roommate Aleisha came home early and found me dancing in front of the TV, I didn’t hear the end of it for weeks.
A woman passed behind me on the sidewalk where I was standing. I moved forward, realizing I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. I watched the woman walk past me and then suddenly turn back towards me. I figured she was coming back to check the bus schedule so I moved out of her way. Instead, she walked up to me, grabbed my arm, and stomped on my foot. I froze in shock at this woman’s apparent anger at me. She was yelling something at me, her face contorted in rage, but I couldn’t hear once again because of my headphones. I caught something about my shoes. Did she have a problem with the boots I was wearing?
The woman let go of my arm and started walking away. She turned and yelled something else back at me, making an obscene gesture at me as she yelled. Still frozen, I hadn’t removed my headphones yet. I looked around, my mouth hanging open, to see if anyone else had witnessed this, but I was alone at the bus stop. I didn’t understand what had just happened to me.
Had I been in her way on the sidewalk? Was she just crazy? Did she not like the way I was dressed? I had just finished working at my internship, and I always dressed nicely when working there. I glanced down at my nice leather boots and saw a big scuffmark from the woman’s shoe. Aimlessly, I brushed the dirt away. Perhaps she thought I was too uppity for this part of town. Whatever this woman’s reason for stomping on my foot, I felt confident that I was undeserving of such hostility.
I looked down at my boots once more. They were pretty fancy, I thought. I had bought them on sale though, and from a retail store where everything was already cheaper. I smoothed a wrinkle from my khaki skirt, a gift from my mother. She had been so happy when I got my internship at a local grade school. The job market was virtually nonexistent right now and an internship was at least a foot in the door. I had always told myself I would never be a teacher, but now working with these kids was making me have second thoughts.
The bus finally pulled to a stop in front of me. As I swiped my bus pass, I took my headphones off. I was no longer in the mood for upbeat music. I wanted to run after that woman and ask her what had made her stomp on my foot. I also wanted to tell her to go to hell, because whatever reason she could possibly have, surely wouldn’t earn me the pain I was now feeling in my left foot. I slid into an empty seat while my thoughts still simmered over the strange woman on the sidewalk.
“Looks like you’re having a rough day,” someone sitting next to me said. I glanced to my right to see who had spoken and was pleased to see a very attractive man about my age sitting next to me. I had been so consumed by my thoughts I had not been paying any attention to who I sat next to.
“A bit,” I replied with a sigh. Normally I didn’t get into long conversations with people I didn’t know, but I found myself telling him all about my day, ending with the woman stomping on my foot. He listened to my whole story with apparent interest and laughed at my obvious anger with the woman. His smile made his green eyes sparkle, and I found myself grinning stupidly. I forced my smile to return to normal levels of happiness.
“Sounds like you’ve made a couple new friends today. And now you’ve made one more. My name is Steve.”
“Are you as bizarre as they were?” I had the sudden feeling that he was going to start ranting about politics, predicting the end of the world, or reciting poetry he had written himself. Surely, I wouldn’t meet a normal person today. Steve laughed at my tentativeness.
“I assure you I’m perfectly normal and boring. You won’t get any good stories out of me.” That’s what he thought. Sure, when I told my friends later about the guy I met on the bus, it wouldn’t be a story about how crazy he was. It would be a story about how gorgeous he was and how he had actually talked to me. That would make a great story. I realized Steve was talking to me and forced my thoughts back to the present. I desperately tried to recall what he had just asked me so he wouldn’t think I was an idiot. My name, he had asked me what my name was.
“Maggie, I’m Maggie,” I blurted out. God that was smooth. I could feel my face getting hot, but I tried to ignore it. I could see Steve trying to fight back a smile, which only made it worse.
“Well Maggie, it’s very nice to meet you.” He extended his hand for a handshake, shifting the grocery bag on his lap as he did so. His handshake was firm but not crushing. His skin was rough and calloused. He probably had a job where he worked with his hands. I loved that.
“What do you do for a living?” I was probably being too forward but I found myself intensely interested in him.
“I work in construction. You know the new building over on
“I see you did your grocery shopping today,” I said, pointing at the bag on his lap. It was an obvious statement, but I needed to say something to stop myself from daydreaming again.
“Yeah, I thought I would be productive today. Not too much for me though, most of this is for my dog.” My eyes lit up. Of course he would have a dog.
“Oh I love dogs! What kind of dog do you have? I have a cocker spaniel at home. I miss him terribly when I’m here at school. That’s my favorite part about getting to go home, seeing him.” Steve was laughing again, and I felt my face get hot once more at my sudden outburst.
“Whoa, calm down there! You must really like dogs.” He laughed once more before continuing. “I have a German shepherd. I bought her not too long ago, so she’s still just a puppy. She’s pretty mischievous but she keeps me entertained.”
“Sounds adorable. German shepherd puppies are so fluffy when they are really young. They are probably my favorite breed as puppies.”
“Would you like to meet her?” he asked me. “She’s right here with me.” I was confused at first, but then I noticed a leash wrapped around his wrist that led somewhere under the seat. I couldn’t believe my luck. I got to sit next to a good-looking guy on the bus who just happened to have a puppy with him. I was ecstatic.
I hesitated though because I knew something wasn’t right. Dogs weren’t allowed on the bus unless you had a handicap of some sort. I looked Steve over quickly once more and was fairly certain he had no physical handicaps. Maybe he had snuck his dog on the bus? If this was the case, I didn’t want to get him in trouble. No, I decided, you can’t sneak a dog on the bus. He must have gotten permission to bring her along. The bus driver was a woman; he’d probably just smiled at her and she had probably nodded stupidly. This thought made me feel better about my own incoherence around Steve.
“Of course! What’s her name?”
“Lucy. I’m a big Beatles fan and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds is one of my favorite songs of theirs,” he explained. “Could you hold my bag while I get her out? She’s probably sleeping.” He handed me his grocery bag and bent down to pull her out from under the seat. He was calling her name softly in the baby voice everyone uses when they’re talking with their pets. When he sat back up, on his lap was a stuffed animal.
I blinked twice to make sure I was seeing things correctly. A smile half formed on my lips; surely he must be joking. The real dog must still be under the seat. The smile quickly faded when I realized Steve was still talking to the stuffed dog and softly petting its head. The leash was attached to a collar the stuffed dog was wearing. He looked at me expectantly, but I was at a loss as to what I should do.
“Go on, you can pet her,” he urged me. I glanced around to see if anyone was paying any attention to us. I didn’t want to be seen petting a stuffed animal that someone else thought was real. No one was looking so I quickly reached over and patted the dog a couple times on the head. I could tell he was waiting for me to say something.
“She’s, ummm, she’s really something,” I managed to say. Steve beamed and started rattling on about the cute things she had done that morning. As I sat there dumbfounded, I peeked in his grocery bag that now sat on my lap. Instead of dog food, I saw all the makings for an ice cream sundae. Whipped cream, chocolate fudge, maraschino cherries, colored sprinkles, and vanilla ice cream. Was this what he had planned to feed his “dog?” Good thing it wasn’t a real dog or she would die of a sugar overdose in a week. I glanced out the front of the bus and saw with relief that it was my stop coming up. I didn’t think I could deal with the fake dog much longer.
“Well it was nice chatting with you,” I interrupted him mid-story about trying to give Lucy a bath earlier that day. “My stop is right here though so I have to go.”
“Oh,” Steve said disappointedly. “Maybe we could get together sometime? Lucy seems to have taken a liking to you. I’m sure she would love to see you again. I know I would.” He gave me his beautiful smile and for a second I almost agreed, but then I looked at the fake dog on his lap that he was still petting and that thought quickly evaporated.
“Well, I don’t think so. I’m pretty busy,” I trailed off lamely. What more could I say? Steve’s face fell as the bus came to a stop, and I quickly walked to the door. I took one last look at Steve and his broad shoulders. A thought suddenly occurred to me. I passed by
I must be technologically challenged because that was ridiculously hard for me to post. And I don't know why the last sentence is smaller than the rest. Whatever, I got it on there, good enough.
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