I look up at the dirty metal steps and think, “these steps must be for giants!” As I use both hands and my knees to climb them I can’t help wondering if this might actually be a space ship. I can see a railing above me but can’t reach it. It takes all my strength to make it to the top. When I get there, I see the floor is covered with a thick black rubber mat. Dirt and mud are scattered all around. I should know. I am too frightened to look up and too shy to take my eyes off it!
Mommy told my sister and I she had
to take my brother to a violin lesson on the other side of Topeka. She didn’t
have time to drive us to our dance lessons first. I thought that meant we
wouldn’t be going to dance lessons today. At the last minute though, she changes
her mind.
When I am with Mommy things can change
quickly. One minute one thing can be happening and the next something else
entirely. Most of the time I don’t understand what is going on. Sometimes I get
really scared when I don’t know what is happening. Today is one of those times
when I feel younger than my 6 years, as if time is being erased from my life but
there is nobody around noticing.
Mommy parks the car on a small
side street. Around the corner on the main road is a little blue sign that has
a picture of a bus on it. As we are walking toward the sign Mommy gives my
sister quick instructions: “Get on the next bus that comes by. Give the driver
this money. Pick a seat and sit down. You know what Mrs. Thomas’s street looks
like. When you see it, tell the bus driver. He will stop and let you off. Then
you can walk to your lessons.”
We both burst into tears when she
drives away. For a while I can’t see anything because I am crying too hard and
cannot stop. Why is Mommy leaving us here? I have never felt so many things all
at once in my whole life! I want to run after her, but when I look up the car
is gone. Will I ever see Mommy again? I look at my big sister, searching for reassurance.
All my life she has been there for me, even though she is only 16 months older.
Now, when I look into her eyes I get really scared. The usual sparkle has
drained away. When I search her eyes they are blank, like she isn’t in there at
all.
Now, I have made it up the steps and
am on the bus waiting in a line of people. I stand behind my sister as close as
I can. I want to disappear. I have never actually been able to poof myself away
from scary situations but thinking about it helps slow my heart down. It is
beating so loudly I am sure all the other passengers can hear it!
My head feels weird. I am dizzy
and am having a hard time keeping my eyes focused on the floor. How am I
supposed to know that when you don’t breathe you can get light-headed? I sense the
ridged stiffness in my sister’s back. I lean closer—trying to find safety in the
grey squares of her plaid wool coat.
I know that my sister has never
ridden a bus before either. I tell myself that she will know what to do! We
live in a sleepy little town about an hour from here. It doesn’t have
stoplights or even a stop sign. The only buses there are orange ones that pick up
the farm kids and bring them to and from school. Our town is so small we don’t even
have strangers.
That is really important because the thing
Mommy says over and over and over every
Saturday when we are driving to Topeka for lessons is, “Never, never, never
talk to strangers, no matter what!” This advice puts my sister and I in a
pickle today because it seems like we are going to have to talk to strangers to ride on this bus!
I peek at the driver sitting
behind the steering wheel. He is wearing a brown uniform with brown gloves without
fingertips and a brown baseball hat. I can’t read what it says on his hat
because my glance in his direction is so quick I only see a T. Plus, I am
just learning to read and it is kind of a long word.
I can’t help noticing his skin. It
is much darker than the lifeguards’ at our town swimming pool at the end of the
summer. This scares me because I have never seen anyone with skin like this before.
Is he ill? What kind of illness would make your skin turn into such a dark,
dark black/brown? I wonder if he is one of those strangers Mommy talks about. My sister and I are helplessly
paralyzed in front of him. He looks at us as though he has never seen two
little pale girls before. I wonder from his sad look if he thinks we have some terrible disease?
We are standing in the aisle in
front of the dark man. As other riders try to get around us, one man carelessly
bumps into me—pushing me right into my sister. When she turns around to give me
a dirty look, I see fresh tears on her cheeks. I don’t want her to be crying. I
need her to be strong and keep me safe! Big tears spring from my eyes, too. I really don’t want to cry. She always makes
fun of me when I cry and tells me I am a baby. Now, look at us! I am afraid of
what will happen if people see us crying, so I put my head down and pretend to
be interested in the floor again.
The dark man reaches out his large
hand and takes the paper money my sister is clutching. He twists around in his
seat, reaches down and pulls out a little worn leather bag. He stuffs the paper
money into the bag and takes out four silver coins. He drops three of them into
a metal box beside him. I can hear the coins drop into the box and fall clear
to the floor. He hands my sister the fourth coin. She grasps onto that coin
until her knuckles turn white, as if her life depends upon it.
I am still staring at the floor, tracing
patterns of dirt on the black mat with my eyes. Suddenly I feel my sister move
away from me toward a seat. This is when I realize when I gasp that I am holding
my breath again.
Just then the bus lurches forward.
My sister grabs my arm and pulls me into a cracked black vinyl bench seat beside
her. I think I can feel the other people staring at us so I sit very still and
look straight ahead. Every block or two the bus stops at one of the bus signs.
Some people get on and others leave. I try to calm myself by looking outside at
the trees as they zip past us in a blur.
We sit and sit as people come and go.
Pretty soon the dark man slows down and stops. Everyone has gotten off the bus.
The only ones left are my sister and I and the dark man. He stands up. I watch
him stretch, stretching his arms up so he is touching the ceiling. When he comes
back to talk with us he towers over us. I am certain he is a giant. “Where you
girls goin’?” he asks in the deepest voice I have ever heard. I wait, willing
my sister to answer. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “Do you have an address
where you’re goin’?” I realize from his kind eyes this stranger is a good
person and is trying to help. “No” she says a little louder but with a quiver
in her voice. “Where is your mommy?” he asks. “I don’t know”... my sister’s
voice trails off.
He turns and sits back down on his
seat. He pulls his sleeve back and looks at his wristwatch. I can see his dark
face in the mirror and when he looks up and catches my eye, he winks and looks
concerned. He drives around the block and pulls back onto the main street where
he begins stopping the bus and letting people on and off again. The only things
that calm me are counting trees as they zoom past and looking at the floor.
Suddenly my sister clears her throat.
She practically yells to the driver with urgency, “This is the street we want”.
He slows down and moves the bus toward the curb. The heavy metal door folds in
two like an accordion as it opens. I sit on the top step and look down. The
steps look scarier and more impossible than coming up. Suddenly I scoot down as
fast as I can on my bottom.
There are a lot of cars on the
street. They stop from both directions and wait for us to cross. My sister walks
quickly ahead of me on the sidewalk. I have to run to keep up with her. When I
see Dorothy Thomas’s little green house I burst into tears again. Seeing a
place I know makes me feel like maybe I won’t be lost forever.
Just then I see Mommy sitting in
our car in front of Mrs. Thomas’ house. I bolt toward her. I want so much for her to leap out of the car,
pick me up and spin me around, holding me close and never ever putting me down.
Instead, she doesn’t get out of the car, doesn’t look at us. She sits there
like a stone and does not say a single word.
Everything goes into slow motion during
the long familiar silence while I try to figure out how upset she is. We must
have done something horrible this time. My sister breaks the spell when she opens
the car door and we quickly pile into the back seat. As soon as I touch the
grey smooth material of the seat I feel safe again. As the car moves toward
home my eyes lids get heavier and heavier. I am happy now that I’m with mommy, and
I don’t care if she ever talks with me ever again.
