Chapter 3 - On the Bus

CHAPTER 03 – ON THE BUS

In Puerta Vallarta, they had watched that first bus drive away. To Allison, seeing that John needed the suitcase to sit on, justifies her having it. She couldn’t help noticing that when the second bus arrived, his symptoms quickly subsided.

At the shelter, it was reported that the hurricane caused substantial damage. In the morning, sitting on their cots on the floor of a large gymnasium. amongst hundreds of other tourists, she hears a text message popping up on his phone. “Honey, look at this.”

“Drats. The workshop got cancelled.”

“Of course it had to be cancelled.”

“I didn't think it would be that bad. What a bummer.”

Sitting on his cot, John leans towards her and holds her hand. “I know you were looking forward to it. It's too bad. Are you ok?”

“Ya. It's just that ...” She looks away. “Forget it.”

“No, tell me. What is it?”

“It's just that I can't seem to … Never mind.” Volunteers walking past them offer coffee and food. Still holding his phone,

After leaving the emergency shelter, they bus-hopped and taxied all the way to the central bus station in Guadalajara, a huge depot serviced by major transport companies.

* * *

When they were at the bus terminal, Allison couldn't seem to shrug off a sinister feeling and soon discovered the source: a woman. That woman was leaning up against a wall in the terminal. Her hair is dyed black with two bold white streaks. Allison felt the woman stalking her like a bobcat hunting down a rabbit.

As the Greyhound bus takes them out of the city, past new buildings and old colonial architecture, John falls into a light sleep, but not Allison. She’s relieved to see her husband resting after that close call back in Puerto Vallarta, but she reflects back to a time when he would have held her hand throughout an entire bus or train ride; or maybe rest his hand on her lap. Not anymore.

Thank goodness she had an aspirin for him. Sure, it took a few minutes rummaging through her stash of Ziplock bags. In the end, however, she found a loose tablet coated in sand at the bottom of her beach bag.

Pulled off her eyes is a hot-pink eye mask clinging above her forehead with the word ‘Princess’. Wild blond curls seek freedom around it. Again, she feels that sinister feeling and discovers that woman is sitting directly behind them.

She periodically twists her head, pretending to look at her husband sitting next to her, when actually she uses her peripheral vison to spy on that woman. She is able to see her through the space between their two grey bucket seats.

This time, Allison turns to face the woman and confronts her with a smile, but the woman does not reciprocate her polite gesture. Instead, the woman smacks her gum louder and sneers. Allison sees her arms loaded with tattoos, symbols and words she cannot comprehend. She can’t count the inventory of piercings the woman is wearing.

Allison fidgets. The leatherette pouch in front of her seat bulges with a cluster of belongings she insists on having readily available. The bus travels past desert ranches, fields of cattle; and through the city of Lago de Moreno, she has no idea that her Cheerios breakfast cereal could have been made in this little town.

Even though it is only the afternoon, she rummages through her beach bag for her dental night guard, then bends down to hide her face while pushing the plastic mold onto her upper teeth.

She settles into reading her book, an Erica Jong novel, Fear of Dying, but that doesn’t entertain her enough. She tries a crossword puzzle, but still cannot take her mind off that woman sitting behind her.

“See?” Allison says to John. "See." Getting no response from her husband, she nudges his forearm. "See?"

Her husband wakens. He mumbles "Huh?"

Looking at tufts of grey hair sticking up on his head, she remembers when his hair was fully blonde. That was when they first met. She realizes she’s been with him long enough to see his hair transition into gray with signs of receding. She resists patting down the tufts. "See?"

"See what?" He strains his neck to look out the window.

“We got on the bus. Tada.” She gives him a perky smile.

He strains his eyebrows. “What?”

“When we left the little village, you said they wouldn’t have enough room on the bus for us. But they did.”

"You woke me up to tell me that?"

"Well, you said we wouldn't make it, but we did."

“Sure. After we watched the first bus leave, which happened to have been a luxurious bus with large comfortable seats and a clean bathroom. Then we waited a long time, not knowing if a second bus was coming or if we would get blown away waiting. When it did come, it was a crummy old school bus that sounded like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”

“It wasn’t an hour. Besides, there weren’t even any chickens on it. And now, here we are. See, it all worked out.”

“They don’t usually have chickens on buses anymore. Anyways, we waited a solid thirty minutes. I know because I checked the time on my phone. Never mind that. We’ve been traveling all day and all of a sudden you wake me up to tell me that. Why?”

“I just thought of it.”

“Geez.” His eyebrows furrow. He shifts back into his siesta.