The Girl On The Bus

I'm not sure when it happened.

One day, I rode the bus and something caught my eye. Looking over, I met her gaze, just for a moment. I smiled, don't know why – it's not something I've ever done before or since. Then, she smiled back.

She had a beautiful smile.

Another day, the bus had grown crowded by the time it got to her stop. Maybe a dozen seats free, I watched out the corner of my eye as she sat down next to me. Twenty or so minutes, and then she left at her stop in town.

A few more days went by and the weather turned colder, so more people flocked to the bus. All of a sudden, we sat next to each other most days. I'd look forward to the trips, finding peace in our silence.

Some days, she didn't turn up and I'd worry, hoping nothing had befallen her and remembering that cough or sniffle she had the day before. Some days, I didn't go in and I'd wonder if she'd worry about me.

I think I would have been happy to live life like that. An awful lot of people seem to want it all, but I don't have any plans quite so grand. At the end of the day, all I want is to be comfortable, because happiness is something vague and elusive.

No, give me comfort over pleasure any day of the week. A quiet night in with a nice cup of a tea and a good book, that's the good life. No stress, no tension, just escapism, pure and simple.

Obviously, I'm telling you all this so you know I didn't particularly want anything about the situation to change. Most certainly, I didn't go out of my way to do anything that would mess up my sort-of guilty pleasure.

Months have gone by at this point – late Autumn changing to the cusp of Spring. Perhaps the season is to blame.... Regardless, I've grown very accustomed to our routine of sitting next to each other, saying nothing and occasionally fiddling with a phone.

Then, on a Monday afternoon, the unthinkable happened.

She bloody well talked to me.

I know what you're thinking, she probably had a little request of me - “May I borrow a tissue?” or “Are the clocks changing back this weekend?”

No, she asked if I wanted to go for a coffee.

A coffee! Just out of the blue!

Details are important, I guess, so I'll walk you through what conversation we had.

“Er, hi,” she said, body angled a little towards me and her head more so, enough that we made eye-contact as I turned from staring out the window.

It took me a second or three to reply. “Um, hi?”

I believe she realised how silly she had been at this point, as her hand brushed aside her fringe and her cheeks took on a rosy hue. “I, I know this is a bit out the blue, but I've sat next to you everyday for so long and it's driving me mad that I don't know anything about you.”

Rubbing my chin, I thought that some people could feel that way.

“Would you, if you're not busy that is, maybe have a coffee with me? I'll pay, there's a lovely little café next to my favourite bookshop and it's not far from the bus stop.”

See, this is where I made a mistake. I should have turned her down, told her that I'm not interested and apologise.

I didn't do that.

Instead, I heard 'bookshop' and my brain assumed I wanted to say yes. So, it made me say, “Yes.”

Well, that lead to her smiling and me smiling back, followed by looking away for the few minutes until her regular stop. For a moment, I had entertained the thought of staying on the bus and hoping she didn't notice. Somehow, I didn't think it a good idea to actually try.

We fell in step as she led us down the high street, off into a winding alley, and finally to the promised place. All the while, nothing more than the likes of, “Not much further now,” and, “Nearly there,” broke our silence.

If I'm honest, it didn't look like a quality place.

An avid reader, I do my best not to judge a book by its cover. This café tested that principle. Slipped between two other buildings, I'd be pushed to describe it as more than a cupboard. A faded sign with only the word 'Rose' legible jutted out, while the rest of the store-front consisted of a slanted door surrounded by glass that could use a wipe.

On the one side, a bookshop that looked like a stretched version of the café. On the other, signs proclaiming the building for let.

I almost ran at that point. A stranger taking me to a grimy, little place off in the urban sprawl, no one would blame me. Well, she might, and that's why I didn't. Some part of me hoped things would return to normal.

My impression didn't improve much when inside. At the least, it looked clean and neat, with a half dozen tables spread across the side walls. It had the feel of a bookshelf to it, wooden flooring and furniture broken only by a doormat.

Alone but for a man at the counter, we had the choice of seats. She took us to a middle table, sliding onto the chair.

Still in silence, I picked up the rather crisp menu and drifted over the offered drinks. “I'll have the hot chocolate.”

Perhaps I imagined it, but she jumped, as though she forgot I could speak.

“Sure,” she said and off she popped. A minute later and, carrying a pair of cups, she returned.

I can't properly remember how it tasted. Probably just an average drink, not worth remembering. Regardless, I sipped away at it for at least five minutes, maybe closer to ten, still without her saying anything.

Honestly, some people.

When I put my cup down and dabbed at my lips with the napkin, whatever spell kept her own lips figuratively shut broke.

“Sorry, I'm, uh, a bit out of my comfort zone with all this,” she said, ducking behind her cup as she spoke, a new blush emerging.

I didn't say anything, just folded the napkin and put it down.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you about the owners of here, and the bookshop next door.”

It would have been rude to say I didn't particularly want her to, so instead I said, “Go ahead.”

She flashed a smiled. “Fifty or so years ago, a boy called Jack moved here when his parents bought the bookshop next door. A few years later, the same thing happened with this café, this time Rose and her parents.”

Well, I could put two and two together.

“Jack had started working elsewhere by then though. He wouldn't come back for five years, because various things kept getting in the way. When he did, he did because his father had passed away. His mother, struck with grief, could barely look after herself, let alone the business.”

She paused, taking a deep breath to herself.

“Shouldering the burden, Jack pressed forward. In the end, the shop only closed for a week. On the reopening day, he finally met Rose when she brought over a cup of coffee, like she always had for his father since working in the café. He thanked her and said she could read until she had to get back to work if she wanted to.

“So it began and so it continued. Every day, she'd bring over a coffee and read a chapter or so of a book. Days, weeks, months, it stretched to nearly two years.

“Then, one morning, she opened up her current book and found a note, asking if she'd like to go on a date with him. A few years down the line, they married. Further along, they had a few kids. Not too long ago, she passed away, which is when he renamed this café in her memory.”

I waited to see if she'd go on.

A smile playing on her lips, she looked over at the wall. Following her gaze, a photograph showing a pair of middle-aged people dancing, a lady in a flowing red dress and a man in a suit.

“Maybe I'm a little too romantic, but I guess I hope that I could have that kind of story. How about you?”

Ah, right, that's when it happened.

“No.”