Authors: Morganna Williams
Funny… it hadn’t made a sound… wasn’t it supposed to do a little ding so you knew the driver heard it?
Just to be sure I hit the button again. I still didn’t hear it so I pushed it a third and a fourth time to be extra sure. I didn’t want to miss my stop and be late for work.
The bus halted so suddenly the car behind us honked.
I walked up the aisle to get off when I got over the jolt.
It was odd but when I stepped off, I could see that the driver had stopped at least thirty feet in front of the stop.
The people waiting at the bus stop grumbled as they walked past me to get on.
“Cut him some slack, he is having an off day,” I advised the travelers as I made my way past them and toward my office building.
DAY TWO
“Good morning!” I sang out as I boarded the bus.
Grumpy Gus just stared at me and grumbled, “Bus pass?”
“Oh, okay.” I sighed as I swiped the card and made my way back to my seat. Poor man, he must have been having a bad week.
I felt proud that I recognized when to hit the button without any mistakes. I still hit it several times just to be sure. You can’t be too careful, after all.
It was funny, but today when I stepped off the bus it was even farther from the stop than the day before. As I made the short walk from the bus stop to work, I wondered if he had a depth perception problem. Who knows?
DAY THREE
The third day when I said hello, he just stared straight ahead and grunted. I sighed and made my way back to what had become my regular seat.
I was beginning to enjoy the peaceful ride into work. It was kind of nice not to have to worry about other drivers. As a passenger I could just relax. I could even sleep safely if I wanted! Of course if I did, then I might miss my stop.
I reached my hand up to ring the bell when a loud voice boomed at me, “
Don’t you dare touch it!
”
I pulled my hand back, worried that the button was infected with some horrid disease. Would men in white shielded suits come running down the bus aisle and quarantine us?
“Is something wrong?” I asked worriedly.
“So long as you keep your hands off that button or any other button on the bus, everything is fine,” he said with a smirk as he pulled up to my stop.
He’d insulted me!
The more I thought about it, the angrier I was. I turned when I was off the bus and glared fiercely at him before sticking my tongue out.
Jerk!
He had no reason at all to scare me like that!
DAY FOUR
As I got on the bus the fourth day, there were no happy good mornings, no cheery smiles exchanged. Instead we glared at each other with mutual hostility as I swiped my bus pass. I was determined I wouldn’t let him intimidate me.
He was, after all, doing
me
a service. He wouldn’t have a job if it weren’t for people like me who couldn’t for whatever reason drive for the moment.
Why… he was
my
employee.
I sat a little straighter in my seat. That’s right! Push me around? No way, José! I was driving this peace train!
My stop approached and I put my hand to the button.
“
Don’t!
” came the warning growl.
I met his eyes in the rearview mirror and pushed the button fifteen times in a row with great relish.
The bus came to a screeching halt and the bus driver shot out of his seat.
“That does it!”
“It certainly does!” I yelled at his approaching figure.
“
Get off!
”
“But… my stop is a little ways up.”
“Get off my bus
now!
”
“I
won’t!
”
“You
will!
”
“I won’t and you can’t make me. I have a bus pass!” I waved the pass triumphantly under his bulbous nose.
“I am revoking your bus pass!” he said, snatching the pass from my fingers.
“You can’t do that!” I cried.
“Watch me,” he said, marching back up the bus aisle with my card in hand.
I followed quickly behind him and gasped when he sat in his seat and pulled a pair of scissors from the console.
“You can’t!”
“I can.” He smiled an evil little smile as the scissors opened over my poor defenseless bus pass.
Snip!
And just like that, my bus pass was a thing of the past.
I didn’t think—I just reacted. Funny how good your fist can feel smashing into another person’s nose. Well, technically it only feels good for a millisecond, then it hurts like hell. But for that millisecond it felt really good and I felt vindicated even when my hand started throbbing.
I had given a blow for the freedom of bus riders everywhere! I was on a high of personal power.
At least I was until the police got there. Did you know it’s a crime to punch a member of the transit authority? Neither did I.
The policeman who cuffed me said I’d get one phone call when I got to the station. I weighed the odds that Landon would be so glad to hear from me unexpectedly that he’d overlook where I was calling from.
They weren’t good. Not good at all.
* * *
I sat miserably on the little cot in my cell. I was a jailbird, a felon, a con, it was terrible! I cringed inwardly as I thought of my brief conversation with Landon.
“
You’re where?
”
“It wasn’t really my fault, Landon! Well… technically I suppose it was my fault, I did hit him, but he deserved it! I was provoked and I think I broke my hand.”
“That all leads me back to the question I asked. Repeat for me again where you are.”
I took a deep breath. “IntheDallasjail.”
I heard him take his own deep breath and could picture him counting, which was never a good sign.
“Did I mention I think my hand is broken?”
“Several times. Sit tight while you can. I’m on my way.”
So I sat on my miserable little cot and took in the scenery. Bars, bars, bars, and more bars, along with a tiny cot and a nasty little toilet. If you could even call it a toilet; it didn’t have a lid!
I eyed the grody little pot and decided I wouldn’t go to the bathroom again until I was ninety-nine years old.
I wished I had a harmonica. According to every movie I’d ever seen, jailbirds were required to play one. I wondered how long it would take me to learn.
Then the cell door opened and Landon came in, fixing me with a fierce glare, and I promptly burst into tears.
He heaved a long-suffering sigh, then opened his arms to me. I rushed into them and burrowed my face in his chest.
“It was awful! They put handcuffs on me and brought me back here to this dingy little cell in chains! My hand hurts so bad! And just look at that toilet!” I finished with a wail, pointing at the offending object.
Landon lifted my black and blue hand so he could get a good look at it, shaking his head. “Whatever possessed you to punch the bus driver?”
“He cut up my bus pass!”
“Why?” He pinned me with his relentless cop stare. I hate that stare.
“I only pushed the little ding-I-want-to-get-off button a few times. Then he went all Psycho Scary Bus Driver.”
“Mmmmm…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I was beginning to get a little indignant. I was, after all, the injured party.
Well, one of them anyway!
“It means mmmm… funny how different the bus driver’s version is. To hear him tell, it you’ve been deliberately annoying and rude every time you got on his bus.”
“I have
not!
I tried and tried to be friendly to him. I smiled and said hello. Only to have my every effort at niceness rebuffed! Then he yelled at me and told me not to ever touch the button again. It was my right as a bus passenger to push that button. So I did. Yes, I might have done it a few more times than necessary, but it was all in the name of freedom for bus passengers the world over!”
“I’m beginning to see what happened… I think.”
The officer who had walked Landon back to my cell looked at him curiously. “Is she always like this?”
“What do you mean am I always like this? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you that a good spanking won’t cure, young lady. You go sit down on that cot and wait while I get this mess straightened out.”
“Landon! I can’t believe you…”
He sent me on my way by turning me and delivering a sharp smack to the seat of my skirt.
Embarrassed beyond belief, I did as I was told without another word.
After what seemed like an eternity later, the jail officer was back. He opened the cell and led me down to the main part of the station where Landon waited.
I ran to Landon’s side. “Do I get to go home?”
“Yes, the transit system said they’d drop all the charges if you promised never to set foot on one of their buses again. I assured them that would be no problem and that you wouldn’t be able to sit to ride a bus for some time to come.”
“You
did not
say that!”
Landon laughed. “No, I didn’t. I just said that you would never darken their door again. I didn’t feel the need to share the other, even though it’s true.”
My uninjured hand crept back to protect my posterior. “But Landon…”
“We can finish discussing it when we get home.”
“But…”
“Not now, Shannon.”
It was a miserable ride home. My bruised hand was throbbing and Landon wasn’t talking. He’d rebuffed every attempt I made at conversation.
The minute we walked through the doors, Landon turned to me. “Go get the brush.”
“But Landon, my hand hurts so bad.”
“I’ll take care of that too. Go get the brush, Shannon.”
When I brought back the brush, I soon learned what Landon meant about taking care of my hand.
In no time flat I was over his knee with my bottom bare and my hand plunged into the bucket of ice water he’d placed so thoughtfully at his feet for me.
Soon I was trying to decide which sting was worse: The one the ice was shooting through my hand or the one Landon’s hand was putting into my posterior.
When I thought I couldn’t stand another swat from his hand, the brush reminded me that I preferred his hand.
It wasn’t long before the heat in my seat won out over the sting in my hand and I was howling over his knee and promising to never hit anyone again, never to set foot on a bus of any kind, and never to push another button as long as I lived.
Even Landon’s!
Then I was cuddled close to his chest being cosseted and comforted.
“I’m sorry, Landon. I shouldn’t have been so mean to the bus driver and I know I shouldn’t have hit him.”
Landon grinned against my hair. “I’d have never in a million years thought you’d get in a fist fight with anyone. Much less a bus driver.”
“It wasn’t exactly a fist fight, Landon.”
“No.” His voice turned serious and he tipped my face so I had to look into his eyes. “It could have been though. What if he had decided to hit you back?”
I flushed. “I don’t know.”
“You could have been hurt very badly. Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”
“I promise.”
Landon shifted me to sit on the couch and then placed the bucket next to my injured hand. “I’ll be right back… soak your hand.”
The rough fabric of the couch abraded my tender backside and for a moment I eyed the bucket closely. If the mouth had been a few inches wider, I might have taken my hand out and used the bucket to soothe the hot sting in my bottom.
Landon came back with a towel and an Ace bandage, then tenderly wrapped my hand and wrist. “That should take care of that. You’ll be good as new in a few days.”
I smiled up at him appreciatively, then frowned. “How do I get to work now?”
My hopes of having my car back plummeted with his next words.
“I guess you’re afoot.”
“Afoot? As in
walking!?
”
Now that would strike terror into the heart of anyone!
Especially if they are used to moving at a speed of more than five miles an hour!
To Foot or Not to Foot
“
Yeeeooooooooooowwwwwww!
” I started awake when a large hard palm connected none too gently with my backside.
I sat up in bed, protecting my posterior from further insult, and glared at Landon. “What was that for?”
Landon glared at me from his side of the bed. “I just had a nightmare. Or I could call it a Shannon-mare.”
“You’re blaming me for a
dream?
”
He looked at me suspiciously. “It had your style and flair for trouble. It was very realistic.”
I crossed my arms across my chest and sent him my most displeased look. I’ve worked very hard to perfect it! “For goodness sake, don’t keep me in suspense! What did I do?”
“Well, you left for work walking and hitched a ride with the Boston Strangler.”
“Landon! Really, I’d never do that. Besides, the Boston Strangler is dead.”
“That’s beside the point!”
“There’s a point?”
“Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”
I sighed. “Landon, I know dreams can seem very real, but get a grip. It’s three a.m. and
one
of us has to
walk
to work tomorrow.”
I scootched back down in bed and flipped over on my side, snuggling back into the covers. On an afterthought, I flipped to my back and shot a glare in Landon’s direction.
Sheesh, I get in enough trouble on my own without having to worry about the ‘Dream Shannon.’
“Absolutely
not!
”
I sat up at Landon’s fierce bellow. “Absolutely not what?”
“
You
are not walking and
that’s
final!”
Did the man expect me to argue?
“Okay, that’s fine, but how am I supposed to get to work?”
“I’ll take you and Tracey comes back this way, see if she’ll drop you off at night. Tell her I’ll pay half her gas.”