Room for one more
Long shifts. Impossible hours. This job was a life-saver and torture. She pulled the bus so the people could come and go.
“To King Cross, return.”
“2.60.”
“Cheers.”
She was bored. Not just bored, but bored to the level of falling asleep behind the stirring wheel. Six months the same route, the same routine.
“To Halifax bus station.”
“2 pounds please.”
She wanted to join the police, but her application was rejected. Was she too short or too crazy they never explained. She liked working with people, and she liked the action. But she ended as a bus driver on the brink to direct the bus off the nearest bridge out of frustration and dissatisfaction.
“To city center.”
She recognized this rough guy. Insolent stare. Barbarian beard. Heroin dealer. Her ex’s supplier of expensive, dangerous shit. He did not recognize her. The sucker sat by the mother in the middle of the bus.
“You have beautiful eyes, darling.”
The confused woman mumbled something and pressed the red button.
“You married?”
“Yes.”
“You call me when you leave your husband.”
Loud, self-content laughter.
“You work?”
The woman confirmed.
“How much you make.”
The answer provoked another burst of irritating laughter.
“I would never work for such money. I sell this.” She saw him taking out and in a small plastic bag. “I make a hundred quit a day.”
The woman asked him to let her pass, holding her toddler daughter tight.
“Wow, bitch, why did you push me!”
She must have brushed the sucker with the limited space she had to escape.
The driver could not believe it. The raging man shouted, shouted and it was getting worse with every apology of the terrified mother. Was he high? The mother flew down to the floor, suffering a heavy punch. The bus pulled over and she shouted:
“Call 999!”
“You calling nobody, bitch!”
“Calm down, calm down!”
The man pushed her, reaching for the open door. The mother on the floor was bleeding. She could not, simply could not let this man escape. She pulled his sleeve.
“What the hell is wrong with you. She has a child, for god sake!”
“Nobody’s touching me. Especially some nosy foreign cunt!”
“No need to act like this.”
“I’m going to bust your head, bitch.”
The bus suddenly appeared to her tight, claustrophobic narrow. She was waiting for it. She was unarmed and not so tough, but also pissed and excited. The other passengers were too terrified to intervene, mostly elderly and school boys. Hit me, god damn it, and you’ll see what happens. He reached to the door again and she pulled his arm again. The heavy hit made her fall on her back, but she jumped up immediately. The raging man did not take her as a threat, cursing and threatening. The police, if on its way was going to be too late.
She did not imagine a fight like that. She expected to be angry, or frightened, but at the moment her mind was blank. She was on autopilot. He was pushing and punching, she was pulling his clothes desperately, preventing his fleeing the scene. She could hear the mother who got outside, crying and telling the growing crowd what happened. How many times she had to face this man, smiling and small talking, when her ex was buying his shit, wanting to tell him that she thinks he is the scum on Earth, that he was ruining people’s lives, that she despised him, and had to politely listen to his bull shit. She was holding tight to his shirt and getting blow after blow.
“Wow, my friend.”
The attacker turned around. And made one turn around his axis when the tall, smiling, tough guy punched him.
“Stay where you are. I’ll beat the crap out of you.”
“You wanker! Get off my way.”
“Stay on the floor, I am warning you.”
The newcomer was the heftiest man she had ever seen. When mad, she was not thinking, but she would think twice before confronting such a heavy-built guy.
“You alright, love?”
“I am most certainly not. Can you hold him for the police?”
“Sure, everyone, leave the bus, but wait to make a statement, if you can. Love, close the doors behind them, are you afraid to stay here with me and our charming friend?”
She denied and after closing the doors, sat by the stranger.
“I think the bus company should give me a free pass after that.” The man smiled softly, while watching the confused attacker closely.
“Sure, where you live, Sowerby”
“I am homeless, everywhere. I guess a nice looking girl like you would not go out with a guy like me?” his eyes seemed to try to penetrate her brain, so intense was his amused stare. She looked at his face. Benevolent. Comforting. Sincere. So he was homeless. How bad could it be. Was he a druggy too. Criminal record? No Paris vacations and expensive gifts? Her life was empty. This was the most romantic thing that ever happened to her.
“I’ll give you my number.”
“I don’t have a phone. I have a few quits, I’ll buy you a coffee. After we talk to the police. You are a brave girl.”
After the divorce her life was empty. And there was something about this guy. Tough, gentle giant. She wiped the blood off her face.
“I must look dreadful right now.”
“Adorable, not dreadful.”
“Nasty bitch.” Came from the furious attacker who was listening.
“I had enough of you, man. Shut up.” Warned him calmly the stranger. Honestly, that was the most decent homeless man on Earth. She thought for a moment how she will introduce him to her friends, was she going to be ashamed, he was not a catch in the full definition of the phrase. And yet…
“Police, open the door.”
She looked at the stranger and smiled.
“Here we go, ready or not.”