Bus Depot

"My apple fritter? Thank you.", said Professor Bridges to the waitress.

Two people in the middle of their own private oasis sat in a coffeeshop, one a professor, the other a student who had longed for him since she first set eyes on him."There is a lot to life.", the student said to him, sipping coffee--black; talking seriously. "Since like the sun always comes up, I continue to endure." Now what hadn't she ordered a fritter too? It was just like her to lose herself in the sheer handsome man who was sitting before her. His face eeked of discipline. That must have been why she was so scared to death of him.

"Yes, I agree." he said shyly.

These two people were part of a handful of customers who sat patiently to eat and suddenly leave in a hurry to catch a bus outside.
"Why is it he isn't listening." she thought to herself.

"I'm not very hungry today, I should have only ordered coffee too." he said biting into his apple fritter. He had to be embarrassed at her, merely lying. "And hey, when is the bus due in?" he added. He was doing a poor job of hiding his fearful anticipation.

She just didn't know. He watched the pretty waitress serve a table in the far corner. There were three men who looked like truck drivers and they smiled as she started to stare at them. He wanted to say something about beautiful minds but the thought dissolved into breathing breasts.

She hadn't expected him to be waiting in a bus depot.
"Did you ever read Judith Rossner's Looking For Mr. Goodbar?" she said to relieve the awkwardness.

"Why no."

"Oh, ah, I was going to give you my copy at Christmas."

"I really don't need a copy. I'm busy with so many authors, you know? After all, I
AM I poet. We must keep up with the times."

"I admire you so."

"No kidding. Now that's because I'm the kind you are supposed to admire."

"I met you two years ago and can't forget you."

"Uhuh." he said.

"And not in a hotel lobby with a bunch of strangers. How lucky I am."

He became tuned to the fire in her and the room seemed oblivious--or secured in some safe spot for him to enter later. He didn't feel at ease. He wanted to sound grateful too. He hadn't paid for a hotel room. He hadn't given her bus fare.
She was a stupid kid who went to the city to get away from her parents.

She even had a leather wallet stuffed with money that she'd saved for a rainy day.
She started up again. "I was dreaming in the hospital. And it was terrible. I thought I was going to die. I kept thinking that I was walking along a strange riverbank--very desolate. While I walked along, I was getting more and more frightened. At myself, I think. You know? All of a sudden I found myself locked inside a giant glass bottle. And I was floated down the river with noone to see or touch me." She waited for him to react.

He stood up awkwardly and walked up to the counter to pay the check. "It's time to go . . . " he said hesitating for several moments. She opened the glass door wide enough to see people in the bus depot office. He noted the time schedules. He finally got her a seat. "I hope I haven't been too much trouble. I never meant to get messed up like that. Honest."

"No, that's alright. The doctor said you're perfectly fine now. I'm sure you won't try anything like that again.", he assured her.

"No. Never."

"Uhuh."

I just want to live now. I want to learn to value life." She lit up a cigarette without looking his way.

"Looks like the bus will be here any minute.", he said, thinking to himself that all men and Jesus haven't enough pity for young struggling writers. He didn't smoke.

"There's the bus. " she said. She got her ticket ready.

"Yes,", he said with taut relief, placing his hands down deep in his pant pockets. "Homeward Bound."

That was when she left--left the bus depot--with a single suitcase and a scar on her soul from having written part of her life away to a man she would never see again and yet never forget.