Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus

by Joyce Magnin

  The woman laughed. “Are you serious?”

  “I am,” Harriet said. “As serious as a root canal.”

  Pink Hat Lady winced. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but I sort of doubt it. I know SEPTA doesn’t go that far. You’d have to take a lot of buses.”

  Harriet smiled. “That’s what is so exciting. I’m going to see the country.”

  Two stops later, Pink Hat Lady got off, and a woman in a striped skirt, holding the hand of a small child, got on. She and the little boy sat next to Harriet. From the looks of the woman’s tired eyes and the boy’s mussed hair, Harriet figured they were having a bad day and didn’t say a word, although the little boy smiled and made Harriet remember Henry at that age — they had similar haircuts. Harriet and Striped Skirt Lady rode together to the university stop.

  “This must be it,” Harriet said. “The end of the line for this bus, anyway.”

  Striped Skirt Woman ignored Harriet and hauled her little boy off the bus in a huff.

  “Excuse me,” Harriet said to the driver.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “I was wondering. How can I take the bus to Tennessee?”

  The driver laughed. “Are you nuts, lady? You can’t take public transportation to Tennessee. You need to go Greyhound or an airplane or even Amtrak.”

  Harriet shook her head. “Or all three, I suppose.”

  Just as she stepped off the bus her phone jingled.

  “Hello?”

  It was Henry.

  “Mom, are you okay? You haven’t answered your phone.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to get a head start before I called you.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At West Chester University.”

  Henry was silent a moment. But Harriet did hear Humphrey’s distinctive woof in the background.

  “Oh, Henry, please tell Humphrey I miss him and give him a good ear scratch for me and maybe a donut. Glazed. Never jelly.”

  “I don’t understand, Mom.”

  “It’s simple, dear. Just reach down and scratch behind his ears and give him a kiss on the nose. Then go buy him a glazed donut.”

  “No, Mother, that’s not what I mean. Why are you at West Chester?”

  “I wanted to see it, the university. Like I told you. I want to see things, Henry. It’s a big, beautiful country. And I’ve seen none of it.”

  “The Jersey shore.”

  “Oh, big deal. I want to see more. I have money, a cell phone, and God. I’m going to do this.” The words left Harriet’s mouth even though her knees felt a little wobbly.

  After a quick walking tour of the campus, which she found both exhilarating and daunting, Harriet found a restaurant called Penn’s Table on Gay Street. It was small and comfy and not very crowded. She ordered a cup of coffee, a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato, and a vanilla milk shake.

  The waitress was young, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, and wore a green polo shirt with the name Penn’s Table embroidered in white above the breast pocket. Tall and skinny with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail, the girl introduced herself as Lacy. She wore the tightest-fitting jeans Harriet had ever seen, although she couldn’t say they were lewd or obscene, just tight and made Lacy’s legs look thin as chopsticks. The jeans might as well have been painted on.

  Lacy refilled Harriet’s coffee cup just as Harriet swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. The day’s activities made her develop the appetite of a lumberjack.

  “Thank you,” Harriet said. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” Lacy said. She smiled.

  “Do you think I can get to California on buses? And not Greyhound. I mean regular door-to-door type buses, unless of course I can’t, and then I suppose Greyhound or the train.”

  Lacy stared at Harriet for a few long seconds, possibly trying to decide if Harriet had slipped a few gears.

  “I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out, young lady —”

  “Oh, no, I’m —”

  “It’s okay, dear. I would think the same thing in your shoes. Funny old woman comes in and orders grilled cheese and tomato with a vanilla milk shake and coffee and then asks if she can take the bus to California. Guess it does sound outlandish, but you see —”

  Lacy looked at the clock.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dear, am I keeping you from your other patrons?”

  “Oh, no,” Lacy said. “My shift ended ten minutes ago.”

  “Then you better be going,” Harriet said. “I won’t be keeping you.”

  Lacy sat down across from Harriet in the booth. “Are you really talking about taking public transportation all the way to California?”

  “I am,” Harriet said. She noticed how Lacy’s bright blue eyes lit up. “Gonna do it too. Somehow. Oh, I’m sure I’ll need to take a train and maybe even a Greyhound. But first, well, it’s going to sound silly, but I want to go to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, because that is where the only salt-and-pepper-shaker museum in the world is.”

  Lacy laughed. “There really is a museum for salt and pepper shakers?”

  “Sure is. It’s my hobby. Collecting them. I have hundreds — they’re already in Grass Valley. I sent them ahead. Well, they should be getting there soon.”

  “Imagine that,” Lacy said.

  “So do you think I can do it? Get clear across the country on buses?”

  “I imagine anything’s possible. Especially if you got a GPS.”

  “GPS?” Harriet said. “Of course. My son and daughter-in-law use one of those. Do you know where I can get one? It’s not that I don’t like to keep current. I just never saw the need, and if there’s no need, why bother?”

  “I can understand that,” Lacy said. “RadioShack or Best Buy might be the best place, but you might already have one in your phone.”

  “Really?” Harriet pulled her phone from her tote. “In this little thing?”

  Lacy shook her head. “Not so sure about that model. Let me see it.” Lacy opened Harriet’s phone and pushed some buttons. “Nah, you don’t have it, but you could get it. Or just buy a Droid, depending on your carrier.”

  “A what, dear? Droid?”

  “Sure, it’s the name of a phone. Then you’d have a GPS right in your phone. Should do the trick. Who’s your carrier?”

  “Verizon. That’s my …” Harriet’s brow rose. She pushed her glasses into her face … “carrier.”

  Lacy smiled. “Okay, there’s a Verizon store down the street actually. I’ll take you there. Sounds like fun.”

  “You mean it? Can you help me buy a Droid?”

  “I can try, I mean I never bought one before. But … why? You running away from home or something?”

  Harriet laughed. “Let’s just say I’m taking the scenic route home.”

  Harriet and Lacy walked down High Street until they came to the Verizon store.

  Close to an hour later Harriet emerged the proud owner of a spanking new Droid with touch screen technology and a GPS.

  Harriet discovered a never-before-tapped interest in gadgets and devices. “I think this phone will do everything but cook my lunch,” Harriet told Lacy.

  “No, but it will tell you where you can buy lunch. Just keep it charged.”

  “Now did I hear that fella correctly?” Harriet said. “All I have to do is start walking and this little phone will adjust the directions and get me to Grass Valley.”

  “That’s right,” Lacy said. “The satellite will always know where you are.”

  Harriet looked into the darkening sky. “Wow. From way up there?”

  “Yep,” Lacy said.

  As Harriet and Lacy strolled down the street, a stationery store caught Harriet’s eye. “Oh, look there. Maybe I should stop inside. I would like to purchase a notebook — you know, to record my … my thoughts along the way.”

  Lacy stopped walking. “That’s a great idea, Harriet. You should get a Moleskine.”

  “A what?
A Moleskine.”

  “Oh, yes, they’re just the best notebooks. And they’re kind of famous.”

  “How can a notebook be famous?”

  “The story goes that Hemingway and Van Gogh and Picasso and, well, just droves of famous artists used them. They would never use an ordinary notebook.”

  Lacy pulled open the door to the stationery shop. “Come on. This is where I buy mine.”

  “Moleskine? Are they made from real mole skin?”

  “No. And some folks call them Mole-skeen.”

  “Still don’t know what moles have to do with it, but I’ll take a look.”

  Harriet fell instantly in love with the notebooks. She especially appreciated the feel of the paper, so smooth.

  “And gel pens,” Lacy said. “You need to write with gel pens on these.”

  “Okeydokey,” Harriet said, now completely enthralled with the notion of using a notebook that Hemingway used. “Who knows, maybe my story will become famous.”

  Harriet paid for a package of three Moleskines and two gel pens — black — and a package of three of the famous notebooks for Lacy.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Lacy said.

  “Of course I do. You helped me so much.”

  The new friends left the store. Harriet reached into her tote bag, found her wallet, and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. She gave it to Lacy.

  Lacy shook her head. “Oh, that’s okay. I think what you’re doing rocks. Glad to help.”

  “Take it,” Harriet said. “I’m sure you can use it, and truthfully, honey, I didn’t leave you a big enough tip.”

  Lacy pocketed the cash. “So where to?”

  “The next stop,” Harriet said, “Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The home of the only salt-and-pepper-shaker museum in the world.”

  Chapter 5

  “WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE GOT INTO MY MOTHER?” HENRY asked Prudence over morning coffee. “Why in the world would she do this? Now? At her age?”

  Prudence sat at the kitchen table and poured a few drops of skim milk into her coffee. “I don’t know. Maybe she just wants a last chance to do something. Didn’t you tell me your dad was always so busy with work and church business he never wanted to travel, only to the shore for one week every August?”

  Henry chuckled. “Yeah. His idea of a vacation was sitting in the backyard watching burgers burn on the grill.”

  “So she’s just doing a lifetime of vacationing in one fell swoop.” Prudence sipped her coffee. “And speaking of work …”

  “We weren’t speaking of work.”

  “In any case I need to get to Sacramento for a meeting, and you need to get back to that novel. Help take your mind off your mom.”

  Henry shrugged. “I hope so. I’m not making much progress.”

  Prudence kissed Henry’s cheek. “The words will come. They always do.”

  “So I guess you’ll be late tonight?”

  “Yes. And that gives you more time to write. But give her a call if you’re worried.”

  Harriet had just boarded the Acela Express train toward Washington, D.C., even though she was stopping at Baltimore, when she heard her phone jingle. She thought she had tucked it into the mesh compartment on her tote bag like Lacy suggested. “Easy access,” Lacy had said.

  But it wasn’t there. “Oh dear, where did I put you?” Harriet unzipped the main pocket and rooted around inside.

  “Oh, don’t stop chiming,” Harriet said. “I’ll find you.”

  No phone. “Oh dear, where in the heck are you?” The phone jingled once more and then stopped before she found it tucked into her dress pocket. Lacy had also suggested that Harriet might be more comfortable traveling in jeans than dresses. But Harriet had still not stopped to shop for them, or for comfortable shoes.

  She opened her phone. “Henry called,” she said aloud just as a large woman wearing an orange suit slid next to her with a thud.

  Harriet fiddled with the phone. It was different from her old one. For one thing it didn’t have a flip lid. She pressed the button that locked the screen.

  “Hello,” she said to Orange Woman.

  The woman in orange looked at Harriet. “Afternoon.”

  Harriet sighed and unlocked her phone. She tapped Henry’s name, thankful that the nice man at the Verizon store was able to transfer her contacts and waited for him to answer.

  “Mom. Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way, dear.”

  “But where are you?”

  “The train.”

  There was a long silence as Harriet glanced at the Orange Woman. “I’m on my way to California.”

  The woman harrumphed and looked away.

  “The train?” Henry said. “I thought you were taking the bus.”

  “I am.”

  “Then why are you on a train?”

  “It’s a strange thing, Henry. You can’t always get a bus from here to there.”

  “So are you taking the train the whole way to California? When will you arrive? Which station?”

  “Oh no. I have no idea when I’ll get clear to California. It’s a long way, you know. I’m stopping at Baltimore first, and then I absolutely must stop in Tennessee to see the Salt and Pepper Shaker Museum.”

  “Salt and Pepper Museum? Mom, are you nuts?”

  “No, dear. I’ve always wanted to see it and —”

  “Then take a plane to … what did you say, Tennessee?”

  Harriet took a breath and glanced at Orange Woman who seemed to be eavesdropping.

  “I already told you. Because I want to travel, see the country.”

  “Travel?” Harriet heard a distinct annoyance in Henry’s voice. “Are you doing this because you’re still mad at me?”

  “Mad at you. What in the world for?” The train jostled. Harriet liked the sensation and smiled at Orange Woman who still appeared to be listening in.

  “For selling Dad’s business and —”

  “No, Henry. I’m doing this because … well, just because.”

  There was another uncomfortable pause until Henry said, “Okay, call me when you get to the museum or someplace in between.”

  “I will, dear.”

  “Which reminds me,” Henry said. “Your boxes arrived this morning — early.”

  “Oh, good. I hope none of them broke. I packed as carefully as I could.”

  “Want me to check?”

  “No, no. Just leave them packed.”

  There was a bit of silence until Henry asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Sure, dear. I’m fine. I kind of like traveling. ‘Course lugging my rolling suitcase up and down steps is a bit of a nuisance. But thank goodness you are more or less expected to carry luggage onto a train. People look at me funny when I lug it up the steps on the bus.”

  “Listen, Mom,” Henry said. “I just had a good thought. Do you want me to come? To you? We’ll travel together?”

  “What? Really?” Harriet slipped her feet out of her shoes and wiggled her toes. She smiled at the relief.

  “I haven’t even mentioned the idea to Prudence. I just thought of it a second ago but —”

  “No. I … I appreciate the thought but … no, Henry. I think this is a journey I need to take alone. This could very well be my last chance to see the country and …”

  “And what?”

  “Now I’m not so sure I know, and what … something.”

  “Well, now you’re just being cryptic, which worries me even more. You have no plan, no schedule —”

  “I know that. That’s the adventure part.”

  Harriet heard Henry make a noise. The same snorty noise Max used to make when he was getting a little peeved. “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet you?”

  “Yes, I’m sure I don’t want you to meet me. And I think I would like to hang up now. I want to see the scenery.”

  “I just don’t know why you think you can do this — travel such a long way by yourself. You have no experience and —”

>   “That’s right, Henry. I have no experience.”

  “But you can have the same experience if we travel together.”

  Harriet laughed. “I don’t think so, Son. Now please. Let me do this — my way.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m going to worry.”

  “Oh, oh, I almost forgot,” Harriet said just before she clicked off. “How’s Humphrey? Does he miss me?”

  “He’s fine. And I think he does miss you.”

  “Tell him I’ll see him soon.”

  Harriet locked her screen and looked through the window. Was it possible she was still angry at Henry? She smiled at her seatmate. Orange Woman smiled back and said, “California, huh. It’s a long way.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  Orange Woman, who was clutching a large green handbag on her lap, smiled and then said, “My name is Mauve. Mauve Riggins, and I admire your style.”

  Harriet grinned ear to ear. “And I admire your … orange suit.”

  So for the next fifty minutes — give or take, Harriet and Mauve enjoyed each other’s company, swapping daughter-in-law stories. And Mauve, who was a businesswoman — in sales — even showed Harriet a few tricks for her Droid. Harriet especially liked the alarm. Now maybe she’ll always remember to take her blood-pressure medicine. But the conversation always managed to get back around to children.

  “My son,” Mauve said, “married that woman without even telling me. It was like I didn’t exist. All I got was a phone call two days after. By then it was too late for me to have any say.”

  Harriet clicked her tongue. “Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that. Henry and Prudence had the good sense to give me a church wedding to attend. But I must say that it wasn’t what you would call a traditional wedding. She wore a very strange white outfit — more like a wedding pants suit than a gown. It was ugly, but I would never tell her that.”

  “Now I got to say, I do love my grandbabies,” Mauve said. “Three of the cutest little boys you ever set eyes on. How about you? Got any grandbabies?”

  Harriet adjusted her tote between her feet. “No, not yet. Prudence is busy with her career — she’s an important lawyer, and Henry is writing books.”

  “Books? Really. Well, that’s pretty impressive.”

  “I know but —”