Moments: A BWWM Short Story Collection

II. Last Seat

"Just keep the change." I said wearily as the driver looked up at me.

"You sure, sir? Twenty bucks can get you pretty far..."

I shook my head as I walked past the old man with glasses at the wheel. I didn't have it in me to stand on my aching feet for another five minutes while he fumbled in his pockets for bills. He tipped his hat to me as he shifted gears, and I scanned the crowded bus for a place to sit.

I wasn't spoiled for choice; not this late in the evening, and I felt the pain in my feet and shins redouble with each filled seat I passed. Judging by the tired faces glancing back at me, I wasn't the only one who'd had a rough day.

Still, I could spare little sympathy for them. The construction firm I worked for had overcommitted on building a bank for a major investor, and now we were on mandatory overtime to get it done on schedule. Twelve hours of hard labor was no mean feat, and five men had quit last month after that cold front came through. I would've quit myself, but I needed the money after the rent was raised on my apartment.

I breathed out as I double-checked the bus for the third time: no empty seats, which meant it was the pole for me again tonight. I trudged over as the bus picked up speed, boots leaving a trail of muddy slush as I took it in my hand. I watched the sun set over the high-rises as I looked at my face reflected in the window.

I really needed to get more sleep; my face had lost its usual ruddy tone, and the circles under my blue eyes were getting worse. I pulled off one of my gloves to stroke the black stubble on my chin, wondering if I'd even have time to shave tomorrow.

I had to wait two stops before I finally got the chance to sit down (an old lady set down her purse on the first open seat rather than give me room), and I couldn't help but sigh in relief as the seat in the middle creaked beneath me. I was almost afraid I'd have to stand the whole forty-five minutes to my apartment complex.

There was one last stop before that though. No one got off, but one woman did step onto the bus carrying three large sacks full of groceries. She shifted them around in her arms as the driver looked at her over his glasses, and I studied her as well.

Besides her thick padded coat she had a plethora of colorful scarves wrapped around her neck and head. Her breath was visible for a brief moment as she unwrapped the lower part of her face, revealing rich sepia skin dusted with frost. She looked at the open door behind her before turning to us with an apologetic smile.

"I'm terribly sorry; I'm making it cold in here, aren't I?"

Her words earned a pair of polite chuckles from those seated around her as she set her bags on the ground; revealing a significant roundness in her midsection.

"You shouldn't be out in the cold like this, miss!" the driver said with concern, eyeing her swollen belly. The woman shook her head.

"No, no, I need to work just like everyone else... Here it is."

After a failed first attempt, she extracted the fare with her gloves, and the driver closed the door after her as she picked up her bags.

The woman looked around as the bus started up again, and her face fell more and more the further her eyes swept to the back. I watched her mouth contort with pain as she made her way to the pole opposite my seat; a sure sign her feet needed a break.

My own feet gave a nasty throb as I watched her rearrange her bags, as if cautioning me not to get any ideas about helping her. There was a small part of me that wanted to ignore her: I was exhausted and I wasn't sure I'd be able to walk the four flights of stairs up to my room as it was. No one else was rushing to give up their seat for her either, so it wasn't like I was obligated to do anything. I could just sit back and wait out the ride with the knowledge I'd never see her again.