29 to Main Street

29 to Main Street (part 1)

I ride that bus every morning for as long as I can remember. Number 29, from 6th avenue to the far end of Main Street. There is only one main street in my town. Nothing much to see here, honestly. You can see almost everything just by standing right in the middle of Main Street. The Bank which belongs to Mr. Arthur McFee, one of the heirs of McFee family, founder of the town. the Inn which belongs to a pair of old widow twins, who are as old as an Oak tree in their Inn's back yard. The Bar opens only three days a week, which belongs to Dany White, who came to this town twenty years ago and bought the bar cheaply and renovate the whole building into the newest look one. I spent many times there over the weekends. Some small stores opened across the street selling whatever they can sell. The housing lay around the hill and some small apartment buildings scattered all over the town. The roof of the school building can be seen if you stand right in front of the Bank. for a town with around 2.300 residents, we sure had quite modern life here.

Carl Donahue has been the bus driver number 29 for the past 30 years and will always be for a long time ahead. He is, of course, an old man who lives in this town since his childhood. His wife owns a small diner in one corner of the main street, where you can find the best blueberry pie in all southern part of this country. Or, so I and town people thought so.

There is nothing wrong with this small town, Carl Donahue and his bus. the problem is just me. I woke up one morning, put on my shirt and pants, had my breakfast which consists of cereal and refrigerated milk almost every day. sometimes I reward myself with a pancake. Usually on the weekend when I woke up without a hangover. I took Carl's bus on my way to work. I manage a small book store near the school building. There is this writer who just launched his latest book about romance around the teenager. I'm not going to say anything about the book which I will not recommend to an avid reader because I know the book sucks. how can a teenage girl fall in love with a boy who had some strange anomaly in him? Teenage tend to call it the mutant, a person with a special power that able to prevent some second apocalypse to our earth. it doesn't make sense. well, I know it's fictional, but still... schoolgirls swarm my store book the day it was released. It was good for the store income, but I swear it's not that good for those girls' brain.

Anyway, the wrong thing about the trip with Carl's bus is this girl. No no no, not the girl. It is me. I am the worst. I saw this girl a couple of days ago in one damp morning for the first time. I thought I heard some heavy rain in the middle of the night, not over an hour. she wore a pink polo t-shirt, a pair of jeans and white sneakers. her hair, she let it lay on her shoulder, as red as copper. a little curly but looks like she washes them every day. And what we got here is freckles on her cheek. I am a fan of freckles on a girl's face. Gave them a shy impression but also you can be as fierce as you can be. She is a bit skinny, but I still can see the body curve. But, one thing got my attention that morning. She cried and wiped her tears using the back of her right hand.

Here are things with a crying girl. As a man, you can never ask what is going on with her, let alone it is a strange girl you met on a bus. Also, as a man, seeing a crying girl evoke this feeling that you want to let her cry on your shoulder, as well as protect her. As a man, I felt the urge to let her know that everything is going to be fine. As I mentioned before, the problem is me. I could not do those things. I did not have enough courage even slightly gave her tissue or something to wipe her tears. I am a coward toward girls.

The second day I saw her, she was no longer crying. Stood in the same spot the first time I saw her, wore the same outfit as the first time. I guessed she works at one of the stores on Main Street. I saw a name tag on her chest but never had a chance to read her name. She leaned on her head to a pole beside the front passenger seat. There was an empty seat not so far from her, but she chose to stand there. I pretend to read a book while watching her gazed at the scenery outside the bus. She thought of something. What would it be?

Look at that blossom cheek of her. Pink blush. I saw some of the passerby schoolgirls in front of my bookstore with pink blush on their cheek. It gets pinker when they giggled as the bloodstream reached out their faces over a discussion about a popular boy named Charlie. I do not have any chance to see the smile on the bus girl yet. I really want to see that moment.

"See you later, Carl." As the bus door swung open, I tap Carl's shoulder since I know him for life and been on his bus almost every day. "By the way, do you, by any chance, know this girl from the main street?" I stop on the bus's step and decided to ask Carl instead talked directly to her.

"Which girl?" Carl's hand already at the handle to shut the bus door.

"Well, the one who cried the other day on this bus, wore a pink t-shirt?" Why do I mention the crying moment to Carl? I could have said anything else.

"Look at here... Our Joe likes a girl. He's grown." Carl looked flirtatiously at me.

"Nevermind, Carl. Thanks anyway. See you." I stepped down the bus and waved to him ashe swung close the bus door.