room 317 – ch 5

 

John was dreaming of holding a baby and trying to soften the helpless cries.

“Can’t youask him?” were the first decipherable words.

“Okay, okay. Sit still.”

John looked and felt around for his pen and notebook, both having sunk between his left hip and the seat rest. He was still half asleep when he realized it was Melissa standing in front of him. “Would you mind coming back and playing that animal game again with Charlotte? I tried to play it with her, but she said it’s not the same without the picture part.” She watched as his eyes caught up to the moment. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were sleeping. Never mind. Go back to sleep. We’ll be fine.” She raised a palm in a friendly departing gesture as she turned away.

“No. No problem,” John said. “I’ll be there in a minute. Just let me find my stuff.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He forced his eyes to wake up by widening and squishing them several times. He found his pen and notebook, then he slowly stood to stretch. He craned his neck clockwise, then counter, sending audible cracks and snaps to anyone within a dozen feet. He watched Melissa struggle to walk to her seat as the bus slowed quickly. He stood slowly, not trusting his tired legs, and stepped around the armrest of the aisle seat where his backpack and leather jacket remained. He wobbled slightly as the bus changed lanes to avoid a slow-moving elderly driver. He then grabbed one shoulder strap of his backpack and draped it around the armrest to help it stay put.

As John approached the long bench seat in the back of the bus, his view was blocked from by the upright newspapers held by the passengers in the seats in front of her. Pages flipped almost in tandem.

“Rush Limbaugh’s coming to the city,” gruffed the elderly man.

“I’d rather see Oprah.”

“I’d rather see the Phillies.”

“So go see the Phillies. Nobody’s stopping you.”

“You are because youwon’t go.”

“Get your friend Eddie to go.”

“Eddie’s been dead a year.”

“Get your son to go.”

“He’ll be drunk by the fifth inning.”

“So take a bus.”

“I hate buses.”

“Then why are you on one now?”

“Because you’re too cheap to fly.”

“Blame Social Security.”

John waited politely for Melissa to see him and invite him to sit down. He was surprised that Melissa did not choose to stay between him and the little girl, but it was more efficient for the two game players to sit together. He angled his notebook on his lap so Charlotte couldn’t see the page as he sketched. When finished, he folded the page and handed it to her.

“Hi, Charlotte.”

“Hi. I don’t know your name,” she answered.

“John.” He extended his hand and shook hers. “You remember how the game works?”

“Yep,” she perked.

“Ok.” He looked up the aisle to make sure that one shoulder strap of his backpack was still visible. “I’m thinking of an animal that lives on a — on a farm.” He relaxed slightly, as did Melissa who turned to stare blankly out the window. Charlotte looked upward, then at John.

“A pig?”

“A pig does live on a farm, but that’s notwhat I’m thinking of. Second clue. I’m thinking of an animal that lives on a farm and is very big, bigger than us.” When his arms moved out as if he were carrying a barrel, the pen in his right hand accidentally made a blue line on the back of the seat in front of him. He looked over at Melissa as her head bounced helplessly in rhythm with the rolling bus.

“A horse,” she guessed as he licked his finger and wiped at the ink from the seat.

“A horse is bigger than us, and it does live on a farm, but it’s notwhat I’m thinking of. Third clue. I’m thinking of an animal that lives on a farm, is bigger than us, and can be all brown or all black or all white or black or brown with white spots.”

“A cow!” She showed some crooked teeth that had yet to be seen by a dentist.

“Check and see,” John directed. “Good job,” he added when she saw the outline of a cow eating grass in a field. The game went on with an octopus, a whale, an elephant, a penguin, and assorted other creatures. Each time that Charlotte was down to her last question, there came a very easy one that resulted in the correct answer.

“Do you like to draw?” John asked, followed by a small nod. “You take the paper, you draw something, and I’ll guess what it is.” He looked up towards Melissa. “So, you’re going to Los Angeles? That should be fun.”

“Ever been there?” Melissa asked before her head rolled in his direction.

“No, but I hear the traffic is a mess.” He checked up the aisle again to make sure that one shoulder strap of his backpack was still visible.

“Not all of Los Angeles is fun and pretty and all that. Some areas are kind of nasty.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Here,” Charlotte interrupted. “Guess what this is.” John held it at various angles until he gave it a shot.

“It’s a dinosaur eating a pizza while riding a bike and wearing a Winnie the Pooh Halloween costume. Am I right?”

“No!” she laughed. “It’s a bunny.”

“That’s what I was gonna say. Draw something else and I’ll get this one right.” He looked up toward Melissa again, but she spoke first.

“You see a bag anywhere? We had a kid-size backpack, was like red and green, blue and yellow. I left it on the bus back in Pittsburgh, but I haven’t found it since we got back on.”

John held his urge to repeat the driver’s warning about things left on board and knelt on the floor to look beneath the seats. “You look in the restroom?” He opened the door but saw nothing useful.

“I looked up in those racks already. We were last off the bus, so I would have seen someone carry it off.” John thought for sure that he had been the last one off the bus, but he knew it wouldn’t help to say so.

“Was there anything valuable in it?”

“Just stuff to keep her busy during the ride. Any important stuff is locked in a suitcase under the bus.”

“If I see something, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. So, you seem good with kids. You got any?”

His teeth clenched behind his dented smile. He didn’t want to lie. “I’m a teacher, so I’m around kids a lot.”

Her head tilted slightly, hesitated. “You don’t look like a teacher.”

“I’m off duty.”

“What grade?”

“High school.”

“Oh, God help you. What subject?”

“English.”

“Eww.”

Charlotte waved another picture at him. “Here’s another one.”

“It’s a duck playing checkers with two butterflies while coloring a horse with a red magic marker — on a Sunday.”

“Nooo!” she smiled. “It’s a bus.” She went back to the notebook to sketch another.

“Did being a teacher scare you away from having kids?” Melissa continued.

“Kids are great,” he again avoided lying, “especially if you have them with the right person. I’m still working on that ‘right person’ part.” He watched a dent form in her smile and tried to figure out what caused that reaction. She changed the subject before he could.

“Where you going to?”

“Arizona.”

“Any place special?”

“Not really, just getting away for a while.”

Potential questions ran through his veins like a razor blade, and he tried to line up answers before anything could be thrown at him. “It’s September. Why aren’t you teaching? What did you do wrong? What crime did you commit? What student did you have sex with? How many parents want to kill you for what they think you nailed their daughters? How many bricks have smashed through your windows? How many times has your car been spray painted with ‘child molester’?”

“I hear Los Angeles is too big,” he said. “My niece works there, hates it, says driving is a pain.”

Both took more time between questions and answers.

“Yep.”

“Why’d you move from L.A. to Philly?”

“Tell you later” she said in less than a whisper, aiming her eyes at Charlotte. John nodded and appreciated that she might be willing to share something personal, but he felt guilty for asking. He had forgotten his earlier vow of avoiding contact or becoming friendly with anyone. He knew it was better to return to his seat and shut up, but he decided to stay until he was sure he was no longer wanted, something he’d learned to detect lately.

“I gotta use the potty.” Charlotte handed the notebook and pen to John and slipped into the restroom to the right of the rear bench seat.

Melissa shifted closer to John and answered the question he didn’t have to ask. “She’s my sister’s kid. Her mother died two weeks ago. Nobody knows who the father is. I came out here to get her, and I’m probably going to adopt her. We tried to get them to move back home because it was too tough for her to work and leave Charlotte in day care all day and make enough to survive on.” Melissa pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Who’s ‘we’?” John wanted to ask.

Melissa continued, but softly. “My sister and Charlotte used to live with me and my mother in L.A. But my sister was getting involved with some dangerous people, and my mother told her to either straighten up or get out. We never thought she’d choose the second one, and we haven’t seen Charlotte in about a year. I tried to convince her to come home to L.A. so me and my mom could help her. Charlotte doesn’t know all this, so please be careful what you say when she comes back.”

“No problem. Got any of your own kids?”

“I can’t imagine having a kid right now. There’s just too much going on. I don’t even think I can give Charlotte the time she deserves right now.”

“That’s a big sacrifice you’re making,” he said.

“It’s not sacrifice when it’s family.”

“She’s gonna affect every bit of your life. What time you wake up, go to bed, what you do on weekends, what kind of movies you rent, the car you drive, the food you eat, who you date, everything. Not many people are ready to be a parent at twenty-five.”

“Thirty. But I have to take her.”

“She’s lucky she got you.”

Melissa looked toward the restroom door at the sounds of shuffling feet. John was uneasy about something he couldn’t place and looked toward the front of the bus to find the elderly woman peering over the back of their seats at him. When their eyes met, she quickly turned her thick glasses and white hair forward and stuck her face back in a newspaper. John gathered his things together and moved as if to stand.

Melissa sighed. “I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you.”

“We all need to vent sometimes. I appreciate that you’d open up with something so personal. That’s brave.”

“Yeah, but I don’t even know you.”

“That makes it easier. When you don’t know someone, you don’t care about their judgments, so it’s easier to open up to them. I’m not going back to my seat because you botheredme. I just want to let you two have your time together. I didn’t sleep much last night, so I don’t want you to think you’re boring me if I start falling asleep.”

John waited for Charlotte to return from the restroom. “I’m going back to my seat so you and your aunt can sit together again. You keep the notebook and pen here in case you want to draw some more, and I’ll talk to you later.” The elderly woman was staring at him again, and he hoped that Melissa hadn’t noticed.

In the time it took to take one step, he debated whether to avoid eye contact with the nosy couple or give them an angry glare. He wondered if they had already determined who he was, if they were likely to tell Melissa who he was, and if she would believe them. He kept his eyes forward and returned to his seat behind the impenetrable wall of a backpack and leather jacket. He pulled the peak of his hat down to eye level and sank his head against the seatback in another attempt to sleep.

Peering beneath the hat, he could see Bunny occasionally glancing his way. She pouted as if the neighborhood bully had stolen her favorite toy. As John faded to sleep, he thought that her eyes were staying with him. He could see that Hoody’s body was completely relaxed and moved fluidly with the rocking of the bus. John kept watching Bunny, believing she could not see his eyes in return. She only looked away to occasionally check if her companion were still asleep.

As his mind and body faded into oblivion and relaxation, his eyes fell lower at her legs, which lacked muscle and color. He thought of a bottle of glue, a glass of skim milk, and chalk. He picked up a piece of chalk, scribbled notes on the chalkboard at the front of a classroom. Bunny sat at the front of the room, empty except for the two of them. Bunny sat in his chair at his desk, back of the room. On his desk. In his chair. On his desk as he sat in the chair. She put her feet on each armrest of his chair as she faced him. A denim skirt surrounded her hips. He was writing at the chalkboard and wearing a black robe. She was on the desk, still facing the chair with her feet on the armrests as he stared between her legs. Her head slowly sank backward and her elbows collapsed, allowing her body to lie completely on the desk. Her fingers ran through her hair. A phone rang with Melissa’s voice. Melissa sat on his desk in a denim skirt. He was holding chalk with his notebook in front of him. In it he wrote my type. He heard something zipping or maybe unzipping. Two females were sitting on his desk. He looked down at two denim skirts. He heard a scream. One was gone. He was pushed, falling, reaching to brace himself. He would soon wake up from yet another sweaty dream.