Bonzer Words!: You Can Never Tell
Lytrice Adams tells of an enigmatic encounter on a bus.
The young man stood apart from the scattered knots of noisy teenagers at the bus stop in the subway station.
It was hard not to notice the hooded figure, the slouched shoulders, the baggy pants pooling untidily around his feet. Although the weather was still warm, it being only late September, he seemed to be swathed in bulky layers of clothing. Unlike the other kids who were wearing light school uniforms. Facing his back, I could only imagine the unsociable look on his face.
The bus came. As the passengers disembarked, the young people fanned out impatiently beside the doors, rushing up the steps into the bus as soon as the way was clear. Not wanting to be caught in the throng of overly energetic teenagers, I waited. The young man waited also, just ahead of me.
Shuffling forward, arms hanging loosely from his shoulders, the hunched figure approached the front door of the bus. I followed. Now I could see the precarious nature of his outfit. His pants looked liked they were going to slide off his bottom at any moment! I held my breath as I watched, fascinated, while the crack between his hips came into view, exposing more of his dark skin with every lumbering step. The uneasy suspension of that tenuous piece of attire threatened to break with the slightest movement. I had to repress my maternal instinct to leap forward and pull those erring pants back up where they belonged. But I restrained myself. My heart missed a beat as he clambered up the steps, and the pant waist slid beneath the curve of his hips, revealing his slack underwear. But wonder of wonders, everything stayed intact.
The bus was full. I ended up clinging to the steel pole in front of three front seats to which older and disabled passengers were to be given preference. Today, three teenagers, two able-bodied boys and one overly made-up girl, were comfortably ensconced in their safety. One of the boys was the loose-pants character. My position allowed me to face him directly. However, he kept his head down as if to avoid eye contact, and my view of his face was restricted to the top of his hood.
The atmosphere inside the crowded bus was pleasant with the hum of voices, and the laughter of students coming home from school. The couple seated in front of me was deep in conversation about the quirks of their home room teacher. I eavesdropped with nostalgia, remembering my own schooldays. Suddenly the bus lurched forward, violently heaving the standing passengers towards the front. I struggled to retain my hold on the steel pole, but my purse flew across the aisle, and landed on the floor. The kids laughed. They seemed used to such incidents, but I was shaken.
Before I could regain my balance and attempt to retrieve my purse, the young man with the pants had got it and handing it to me, he added in a rather authoritative tone: 'You should sit down.' And he firmly guided me to the seat he had just vacated.
I was grateful. I did need to sit down.
Now my young friend was hanging on to the safety stirrups over his head, and his pants were in real jeopardy. His belly-button taunted me unashamedly from his exposed anatomy. Doing my best not to stare, I looked up into his face and for a brief moment our eyes met. He seemed expressionless.
The bus continued its route, stopping every now and then to let passengers off. The seats beside me soon became vacant, and the young man sat down, much to my relief.
I wanted to talk to him, but I did not know what to say. I was so unprepared for his response to the earlier incident. Suppose he just wanted to be left alone. Judging from his appearance, I had expected him to be angry and defiant. Instead, he rescued my purse and offered me a seat when the other young people just laughed at my predicament.
Finally, I ventured somewhat tentatively: 'Thank you for picking up my purse, and giving me your seat. That was very kind of you.'
He leaned forward, rocking his body back and forth. 'You have to be careful on this bus,' he mumbled. 'Is every man for 'imself.'
'But you were there for me,' I pointed out.
He did not respond. I got off the bus soon after.
© Lytrice Adams
Lytrice writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
