550 to Seattle

They gave me the job because they needed a body in a seat who could feign a smile. I took it because it would let me talk with people. Turned out not many people wanted to chat at the hospital.
After my first day, I threw on my rain coat and trudged towards the bus stop. Nobody walked besides me. Fancy cars kicked up rain as I passed, the drivers’ faces tinted and blurred.
At the bus stop, I hid from the cold rain by leaning on a raised planter box. Nobody else waited with me. It was the start of the line. I watched the dark, empty bus parked up the road. Kids laughed and joked with each other as they left Bellevue Library. A little girl, bouncing as she walked through the grass of Ashwood Plaza, spouted questions at her disheveled teacher. “There wasn’t even a field. Why’s it called a field trip? Did the field take a trip somewhere? Did someone fall in a field so they had to get rid of it? Was one of the librarians named Field? Does she make the cookies?”
The bus driver boarded the bus, and flipped on the 550 lights. The bus creaked and groaned as the door swung open, and I clambered aboard. “Evening,” I said to the bus driver as I scanned my ORCA card and smiled.
He glanced at me blankly and lurched the bus back into traffic. He had a scruffy beard and wore an oversized pale blue uniform, unbuttoned so his gut fell out. A picture of him with two kids hung between the spokes of his wheel. A hand written note beneath it read, “Greet everybody with a smile!”
I tucked my head down, took my seat on the aisle about half way down, and checked my phone. No messages. With a sigh, I popped in my earbuds and put on a podcast.
The people who walked down the sidewalk all had their hoods up against the rain. I liked to watch people, to imagine what went on inside their heads and their lives.
The bus creaked to a halt at the Bellevue Transit Center. A line of other people waited expectantly on their phones as they waited to board. The first person on, a man with long dreads who wore jeans and a dark green raincoat, said hello to the driver and paid in change. He caught my eye and smiled, a lazy smile with soft, glazed over eyes.
I looked back to my phone, as I always did when I accidentally made eye contact with someone. His boots clunked on the metal walkway, and he scooted into the seat next to me. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He leaned towards me with an expectant expression.
The burn of lemon and bleach lingered in the air. I took out an earbud, and met his gaze for a moment. “Can I help you?”
He had brown eyes with gold flecks in them, glazed slightly as if he was watching something just beyond me. “No, just want to talk. I don’t think Bill Cosby did what they said.”
I turned my head straight and blinked several times before I moved across the walkway into the opposite window seat. He followed and took the aisle and, as the rest of the bus filled quickly, pinned me in my seat.
He said, “I watched his stuff all the time, seemed like such a good man. I really looked up to him. Besides, feels like they singled out the wrong guy. You hear about that Epstein guy? How come when it’s a white guy nobody cares?”
I slumped down and rubbed my eyes. “I’d rather not talk about them, thanks.”
“Okay, makes some people uncomfortable to talk about stuff like that I guess,” he said as he held out his hand. “I’m Jeffrey.”
“Hey,” I said.
“Great to meet you. What would you like to talk about instead?”
From what I could see of him out of the corner of my eye, he still was holding his hand out. “Just trying to ride the bus, man.”
“Yeah, where you going?” He finally put his hand down.
“Home.”
The lights from the tunnel under Mercer Island reflected off the windows as we trudged through rush hour traffic. He said, “Nice man, me too. I’ve lived downtown my whole life, finally got a job in a nice part of town. My mom’s proud, it’s real pretty out here. Don’t know anybody though.” He looked dopey, almost like he had escaped from somewhere.
“Great.”
Jeffrey smiled and crossed his hands in his lap, looking away from me for the first time since he sat. “I’m a janitor at Microsoft.” He gestured at his jacket and jeans. “It’s great. They make me wear the cleaning uniform so I change into this after work. Just easier to fit in with the guys like this. What brings you out here?”
“Work.”
“Nice man, congrats on the good job. It’s tough nowadays. I heard from someone that they’ve been holding out for a management position for the last seven years. Been unemployed the whole time. What do you do?”
“I’m at Overlake.”
“Nice man, nice, helping people and all that. I’m sure you talk to lots of people, see all sorts there.”
“Mmmh.”
“Any fun patients you’ve had recently? Funny conversations?”
The only things I could think of were colorful sweaters and ‘Pudding Pops’. With a smile, I said, “You know what, the way you started this conversation was really frigging weird.”
He blinked at me a few times, his smile gone. “Suppose so, yeah.”
I chuckled. I’m trapped on the bus with this guy talking at me. I might as well make it a conversation. It’s either this or listen to a podcast so I feel like I talked with someone today. “Not the end of the world, but why was that the first thing you said to me?”
“Dunno. My family didn’t really filter what we talked about. It always led to a spirited debate which I liked. I never understood why people get so standoffish about topics like that, it’s just my opinion. You’ve been nice so far though.”
He must’ve been completely unobservant of how I’d treated him or his standards are way off. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing. Most of the time when I talk with people on the bus they just ignore me.”
“Have you opened a conversation that way before?”
“Yeah, a few times.”
“And?”
He rubbed his chin, the scruff on his cheeks bristled. “Not so great. The last guy, well, woman told me to go fuck myself. Pardon my language.”
I laughed. “I thought about it.”
“Glad you didn’t. Don’t know if I could deal with that today.”
Incredulous, I rubbed the brim of my nose. I glanced around to see if anybody else overheard us, but everybody else on the bus had headphones in and watched their phones. “If you can’t deal with how someone reacted before why’d you use it again?”
“It gets to straight to the point,” he said. “I don’t like small talk. I just wish people’d speak their minds.”
“Why’s that?”
His dreadlocked hair shifted as he tilted his head. “My mom always said it was boring, she would just ask whatever was on her mind. I always admired that in her.”
“Your whole family like that?”
He straightened his back, and the smile dropped off his face as he stared straight ahead.
“You alright?”
The color slid from his cheeks.
“Seriously, do you need help?”
“I buried my parents yesterday.” The muscles in his cheek flared as he clenched his cheek, and he spoke low and slow. “Carbon monoxide leak. Old building the landlord hadn’t kept up to code. I guess the good news is that it happened in their sleep.” We crept down the slope onto the floating bridge between Mercer Island and Seattle. Mount Rainier reflected off the foggy water against the orange sunset.
I sat up straight and stared at my feet. “Sorry. I really am.”
“Thanks. I just moved out, only a few blocks away. They were so proud that I got my own place, younger than they had. Now my brother and I have to go back home and clear out their things. The landlord’s throwing their stuff away at the end of the month, says he has another tenant lined up.”
“That sucks.”
Jeffrey sniffed as traffic picked up and we climbed the hill into another tunnel. “Yeah, it does. I used to be able to talk with them about absolutely anything. We’d just figure it out together. Now, I don’t know.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “Let’s just change the subject, man. Talk to me about anything else, please.”
“Sure, sure.” I rubbed the back of my head and sighed. Poor guy. “Well, you asked about me earlier. I just moved here from LA, got a job over at the hospital checking in patients for their appointments.”
Jeffrey sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Why the move? The job’s cool and all but not something people usually move all the way up the coast for.”
“It’s touchy. Family stuff, mostly.”
“Sorry about that. You don’t have to talk about it.” He sunk into his seat.
“It’s alright. I sort of left and sort of got kicked out. I just needed a change.” I paused as an ambulance wailed its way by. “Don’t know how much you want to know.”
“Whatever you want to share, man.”
I sighed and swung my earbud around my finger. “Well, my girlfriend and I, we were really serious. She was supposed to move with me. Even Seattle was her idea in the first place. With how bad it got with my family, she didn’t want to be involved, so she broke it off.” The bus exited the freeway and entered the Light Rail tunnel.
He sucked air through his teeth. “Bummer, real bummer that.” He glanced out the window. “I’ve always wanted to go LA, become a model. Thought that’d be fun. They always seem to have an ideal life.”
I fought the urge to give him another look up and down. He hadn’t struck me as particularly good looking before, but this seemed a bad time to check. “What’s stopped you?”
“Family. Even with my parents, well, you know, I have aunts and uncles and my grandma all here. I can’t leave them in a time like this.”
“Hopefully you get the chance someday. Guess there never is a good time.”
He nodded. “Maybe. My dad was a fast food worker for years, saving up to buy his own franchise. Never was able to do it.” He stared at his lap, eyes watering.
I patted him on the shoulder. “I never gave my name. I’m Greg.”
He smiled and we shook hands. “Good to meet you.” He pulled the cord to signal the stop at 4th and Jackson. “Hopefully I see you around.”
“Yeah, hopefully. Maybe on a billboard someday.”
Jeffrey chuckled. “We’ll see. Thanks for the time, man.” With a nod, he hopped up and hurried with traffic off the bus.
I got off the bus and onto the next to West Seattle. Nobody else spoke the rest of the way besides the bus’s robotic voice at each stop. The tube lights flickered and buzzed in greeting as I entered my apartment. For dinner, I ate my pre-prepared salad straight from the bag and browsed social media. My younger brother had his birthday party after I’d left, he’d turned eighteen. My mom couldn’t stop posting about how he’s the man of the house now. I hope he’s doing okay, and the card I sent arrived on time.
Once tired, I laid down and prayed. For myself, that I would find my place here. For my air mattress, so the duct tape patch would hold again. For Jeffrey, as thanks for making my day.
The next day, I rolled off the half-flat air mattress, dressed, and went to work. I could hardly keep the excited bounce out of my step as I approached the bus stop.
I took my seat alone against the window. My bag blocked the aisle seat next to me as I saved it for him. At the Transit Center, I watched every face as they boarded until the bus filled and the last person boarded.
“Excuse me, can I take this seat?” a woman said to me.
I looked her in the eyes and smiled, her glasses held back her dark hair and she wore a backpack backwards across her chest. I pulled my bag into my lap. “Sure, sorry, sure.”
“Thanks.” She plugged in her headphones and played loud K-Pop as she browsed news articles about Epstein.
The bus jerked away from the station. I watched the crowds of people at the Bellevue Transit Center waiting for other buses. I didn’t catch Jeffrey’s face or see his dreadlocked hair through the crowd. Traffic pulled us around the corner and onto the bridge to Mercer Island.
I tapped the woman next to me on the shoulder. She pulled out an earbud and looked side-eyed at me. “Yes?”
“I noticed that you’re interested in that Epstein guy. What do you think about Bill Cosby? I think he did it.”
She rolled her eyes, plugged her headphone back in, and said, “Fuck off.” She shouldered through the crowd to the front of the bus and stood by the bus driver. At the next stop, someone else took her seat, and I let them stay absorbed in their phone.
The next day, I saved Jeffrey a seat again, but and he did not show up this time either. Someone else sat next to me. I didn’t speak with them.
I belonged as a body in a seat. He had something else, something better than me. He changed his clothes at work to fit in better with people who probably thinks they’re better than him. In a city where nobody talks, he sat next to me on the bus and forced a conversation. Maybe he moved to LA too. I hope he is doing okay, wherever he is.