But this time, as she bent down and picked up the ticket that represented the new life she was embarking on, a life of independence and strength, a life that was closing the door on being a victim, this time, she thoughtfully made the choice not to hate. She would sorrow for him instead. She would feel bad for the kind of life he must have that would cause him to treat a total stranger like herself in such a rude manner.
This new way of thinking—this new-found thoughtful kind of braveness—was more than a little bit liberating. No longer would she cower at the sight of adversity. She would sit in this filthy bus depot, glad for the opportunity to do this on her own and free from the bonds of bitterness.
This heady feeling lasted all of four minutes until a drunk walked up to her and began to pat her down asking for change.
“Go away!”
She brushed him away and he blankly obeyed, but it had deflated her sense of self and she once again felt the victim. She thought to herself that this new practice would probably take some building up, like an inactive muscle, and she vowed to carry through with it.
She parked in the cleanest chair she could find and wished with all her heart that she had a good book to read. She would have loved to have gotten out her laptop and done some writing, but she knew that it would not be wise in such a place to do so.
Exhausted from thinking, she had to continually jar herself awake. She couldn't risk falling asleep in these surroundings and had to face the prospects of not sleeping until she arrived at her destination, another 16 hours or so from that point.
At least she could look forward to the luxurious seats and quiet of a bus ride. She could be alone with her thoughts and formulate a plan for herself.
When the clerk finally announced the bus going west was loading, Maggie collected her things and stumbled wearily onto the bus where she let out an audible gasp. This was not the bus line of 30 years ago. Though the amenities were an updated version of the same, they had been badly abused and the seats now were filled with folks who seemed to not have a great deal of respect for this means of travel. In the old days, she would have found an interesting person to sit next to, plop down and begin hours of intimate conversation. She had often mused in the old days how she could be anything she wanted. Spending only a few hours of your life with someone, and with the knowledge you would probably never in a million years run into them again, you could be a European princess traveling undercover and speak with an effectual accent. You could be in the witness protection program. You could be a runaway, having just narrowly escaped parents who had beaten you to within an inch of your life. This is where Maggie first began “writing” her stories—by personifying a fictional character and then developing it as she went along.
This, however, would be different. She quickly scanned the bus, looking for an elderly person who might sleep the entire trip. She found one and practically ran, her adrenalin now pumping, to the seat next to him, and sat down, quickly closing her eyes as if she had already been traveling and was sleeping.
This tactic would have been greatly successful were it not for the elderly woman who tapped her on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, miss, but I think you're in my seat. That's my husband.”
“Oh, dear me, I'm so sorry. Here, let me get my things and move. I apologize again. I was just looking for someplace safe.”
She said this last part in a whisper with her hands around her mouth to hide the words.
“I know. It's not like the old days, is it? We used to travel with our family this way. I would never do that again.”
Maggie now had to find the second best seat on the bus and, though it was half occupied by a rather interesting looking character, opted for the one right behind the bus driver.
Her seat mate was a middle-aged gentleman with a nicely pressed plaid shirt, bow-tie, and trousers pulled up just a little too high on his waist. Maggie did her best to settle in.
“Hello, ma'am, my name is Ronald. I'm going to visit my grandmother in Ohio. What's your name and where are you going?”
Maggie detected slowness to his speech. She surmised that he was slightly mentally challenged.
“My name is Margaret. Nice to meet you. I'm also going to Ohio, but I'm going there to pick up my car.”
As soon as she had said this, she just knew that it would lead to a battery of questions that she was in no mood to answer. And so the next two hours was spent explaining and then explaining again that she had been in an accident and that she was alright and that her car was being repaired and that all would be well.
When Ronald was finally appeased, he sat back and then pulled out a brown paper sack.
“This is my lunch. My mother packed it for me. Would you like some?”
Maggie didn't want to impose, but she had only had a soda and a candy bar from the vending machines in the last few hours, so she inquired.
“What have you got in there, Ronald?”
“I have 2 bologna sandwiches and some cheese crackers and an apple and a banana and an orange and some celery sticks and some baby carrots, and some brownies and chocolate chip cookies. Want some?”
The sound of Maggie's pride was drowned out by the growling of her stomach.
“How about some celery sticks, then?”
“I don't know. Those are my favorite.”
He then smiled great big and Maggie knew that he was teasing her. She was so grateful for the distraction. She hadn't thought about Jacob or David or cancer in a few hours. It was a welcome relief.
She munched her celery sticks, glad to have something in her belly, and then decided to try and nap a little. She wrapped the strap to the laptop case around her ankle and put her purse on the window side of her legs, securing things as best she could. She leaned her head on her balled up sweater against the window and closed her eyes for a few moments which turned out to be a few hours.
“Erie, PA. Erie, PA. Everyone needs to exit the bus for a 20 minute layover and transfer. Everybody off. Check your tickets for your next bus.”
Maggie awoke with a start.
“Oh, good grief, Ronald, I can't believe I slept that long. Are you getting off here?”
“Yes, ma'am. I'm getting off, but then I have to get back on another bus and finish my trip. I have to transfer.”
“Well, I have to, so I guess this is goodbye. I hope you have a nice visit with your grandmother. It was lovely to meet you.”
“It was lovely to meet you, too, Margaret. I hope your car is good now and I want you to have my brownies.”
“Oh, Ronald, that is so thoughtful. Thank you.”
He stretched out his arm and shook her hand and then handed her a baggie with two walnut brownies in it. She left the bus and looked around for the restroom. She desperately needed to wash her face and hands and brush her hair.
No sooner had she done this than she heard the announcer call for travelers going west. She collected her things and boarded the bus and was surprised to see Ronald, once again in the seat behind the driver. His family must have told him that this would be the safest trip. Though he was a bit more chatty than she cared for, Maggie at least knew he was safe. She approached him and when he saw her, his face lit up.
“Margaret!”
“Hello, old friend, care if I sit next to you again?”
“That would be great!”
The sun was setting as they got underway and Maggie suggested they play a game she had played with her children with they would travel—the ABC game with road signs. That occupied them pleasantly until they both decided it might be time to close their eyes. They split his last bologna sandwich and the baby carrots and then it was time to sleep. Maggie did her best to secure her things once again and was grateful that Ronald took the outside seat.
“Akron, Ohio. Akron, Ohio. Everybody exit the bus. Wake up and collect your things. It's Akron, Ohio.”
What Maggie wouldn't have given to hit the snooze button on the driver.
“Ronald, wake
up. We have to leave the bus. I have to transfer again. Is Akron where you get off?”
“What? Who are you? Oh, Maggie. What?”
“We're in Akron. Is this your stop? Is this where your grandmother lives?”
“No, she lives at 739 Dancer Court, Springfield, Ohio.”
“What? Springfield is where I'm going. I guess we'll go the whole way together.”
“OK. That's good. You can meet my grammy when we get there. She and my uncle are picking me up at the station.”
It surprised Maggie to know that she looked forward to completing the trip with her new companion. It somehow reassured her to know that she would be familiar with her seat mate.
“That would be lovely. Listen, Ronald, this layover is actually a couple of hours. Would you like to grab some breakfast? I'll treat.”
“Sure, Margaret, you're a nice lady.”
“Great, I'm sure there's someplace close. Let's get our things and find a place.”
When they departed the bus, Maggie saw the glowing window of a diner just down the block. They lugged their worldly goods and made their way into the warmth of the eatery.
The menus reflected the type of home-cooking Maggie missed so much. For a moment, she closed her eyes and was a young mother surrounded by hungry children. She was more and more frequently melancholy for the old days. Ronald snapped her back to the here and now.
“What are you going to get, Margaret?”
“I'm not sure. I'm kind of leaning toward the waffles. How about you?”
“I like gravy. I'm having gravy.”
The waitress came over and they made their selections and enjoyed the better part of an hour just talking and not worrying about the next leg of the trip or what would come after.
When it was time to re-board, they were first in line and chose a front seat, anxious for the last stop. The hours went pleasantly and for them, no one else on the bus existed. Not the young pierced couple making out. Not the old soldier talking to himself. Not the two young hoodlums carelessly using up every foul word they knew. For Maggie, there was no one on the bus but this nice young boy in a man's body and the talk about his family. Margaret listened as he told of a father who abandoned him and his mother who worked two jobs and about the uncle who stepped in regularly to help raise him; about the grandmother who doted on him; about all his cousins and their accomplishments. It was a relief for Margaret to step outside her world and live for a while in someone else's. She imagined their holidays and had to stop herself from stepping back into her own world where her children were so busy raising their families that they rarely saw one another.
Finally, the call came.
“Springfield, Ohio. Springfield, Ohio. Everybody off. Make sure you don't leave anything behind. Springfield, Ohio. Everybody off.”
“Well, this is it, Ronald. I have really enjoyed traveling with you. You made it a very pleasant trip.”
“You're a very nice lady, Margaret. I hope your car is fixed and you get to move on.”
“Thank you, Ronald. Are you good to find your people?”
“Oh, yes, I do this all the time. But I want you to meet them.”
“Well, I don't want to intrude.”
“No way. They like all my friends. Look, there they are. Grammy! Uncle David!”
Margaret looked in the direction Ronald's face was looking and locked eyes with none other than David Clark.
Chapter 26,
in which Maggie runs into one of the two last people she wants to see and finds herself in a friendly but uncomfortable situation
“Your uncle is David Clark?”
“Yea, Uncle David Clark. That's my last name also.”
They had never gotten around to last names. That was part of the anonymous charm of bus travel.
“Grammy, Uncle David, this is my friend, Margaret. We traveled the whole way together. She bought me breakfast. I shared my brownies with her. It was great. She wasn't mean like people sometimes are on the bus. She's real nice.”
“Yes, I know.”
Grammy and Ronald had synchronized quizzical looks when they saw David reach out his hand and took Margaret's, unable to take his eyes off of her.
Grammy was the first to speak.
“What's going on here? How do you two know each other?”
“Do you remember me telling you about the accident, mom?”
“Yes . . . don't tell me this is the careless girl who hit you!”
“Mom, I hit her. It was an accident. I think. I'm beginning to have my doubts.”
His smiles tickled Margaret somewhere inside. She couldn't help but wriggle a little and quickly removed her hand from his.
“It really was an accident!”
Margaret had to quickly and convincingly rebut his innuendo, which was immediately followed by a stern but silent conversation with herself.
“Margaret, you are an independent woman. You are through with men. You feel nothing for this man, nor for the specter that the sight of him causes you to remember. Get over them and get on with your life which is complete and happy without the necessity of men or even a man. Be strong.”
David looked confused and hurt.
“I really must be going now. I have to go and get my car. It should be ready now. It had a number of repairs after the accident!”
This last word of this last statement was made with firm conviction.
David didn't miss a beat.
“You have to get there somehow. Let me take you and save you the cost of a cab. After all, you were so kind to my nephew. Isn't that only fair, Ronald? Don't you think I should drive her?”
“Yes, yes, yes! That's a good idea! Margaret, let David take you to your car!”
Oh, wow, playing the mentally challenged nephew card. Really low, mister!
“That would be lovely,” Margaret hissed through pursed lips.
He tried to take her elbow as they turned toward the parking lot, but she dismissed it and grabbed her bags, making certain they occupied every inch of her that could be otherwise occupied by an intrusive acquaintance.
They piled into his car and went on their way. When they pulled into a driveway in a lovely residential neighborhood, Margaret had to make an inquiry.
“This doesn't look like a mechanic's shop to me.”
She tried not to sound snippy, but that was a failed attempt.
“No, this is mom's house. I thought you might want to freshen up after the trip and have some lunch. Then I would be glad to take you. I was only trying to be thoughtful.”
His reply returned her curtness.
“Fine!”
“Fine! Ronald, please show Margaret the guest bedroom. Margaret, there's an attached restroom. Please feel free to take your time and come back down when you are a little more refreshed.”
“Fine!”
She spun on her wheels, picked up her bags and was suddenly accosted by her host's grabbing them out of her hands.
“Here, let me help you!”
“Fine!”
The trio trudged up the stairs and to the guest room where David silently, in game show hostess fashion, waved his hands in exaggeration to point out the bathroom, the bed, the closet, the dresser, the telephone, the bookshelf, the two lamps, the alarm clock, the high school trophies and family pictures, and the potted plant in the corner. He didn't miss a beat. At this, Maggie felt a full-snorting guffaw bubbling up from somewhere deep inside and found herself completely incapable of holding it back. Nor, she discovered in that instant, did she want to.
David followed suit and the two quite naturally stepped toward each other and embraced. Somewhere out there was a sulking Jacob. Margaret knew that without a doubt. She also knew she must quickly withdraw from this embrace. It felt too good and was already beginning to weaken her resolve.
“Well, that's certainly enough of that!”
“I'm sorry, I thought it was consentual.”
“It was just a moment and now it's over and I need to
freshen up. This is just a little too weird for me. You being my travel-mate's uncle? I mean, really, David, what are the odds?”
“I don't think it was accidental, do you?”
“I'm sure I don't know what you are referring to.”
“There is a divine effort here to bring us together. I don't think any rational soul could deny that.”
“Then color me irrational. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
Maggie thought about the fine line between asserting one's self and being just plain bitchy. She was being assertive. That's all. Really.
David looked bruised and turned to leave her, but paused in the doorway. Without turning back around, he said, in almost a whisper, “Please consider the possibility of the magic in all of this.”
He took his leave and Maggie was left to contemplate on which magic to believe in. There was no denying that some cosmic force was doing its level best to bring her and David together. Then there was the magic of a ghost wooing her. Who would possibly believe in that magic? The third magic was a woman, battered by the world she had lived in, coming to the conclusion that she could do it on her own. Which was more relevant? Which was more plausible? Which held the most magic for Maggie?
Grimm's Last Fairy Tale Page 13