CivBackup

Friday, July 08, 2005

Faces.

New story.

Not abandoning the old one, but it's a film. Films should be films, and books should be books. Mix 'em, and you have problems.




Part 1.



“Hello there!” yelled the bus driver cheerily to the boy climbing aboard.

“The day been good to ya lad?” His Scottish accent was almost as strong as the coffee he offered to the boy.

“Have a bit?” He held out a steaming cup. “Been chilly these last few mornin’s!”

“No thanks Jack. Your coffee would kill my dog.”

The Scotsman laughed heartily. “That’s why I like you. Don’t ever lose that honesty, hear?”

“Whatever you say Jack. Just… get the bus rolling.”

“Can’t as of yet. There’s an old woman commin’. Bet she’d like to out of the rain.”

The boy sighed, and walked to the rear of the vacant bus. He was evidently not happy. His hair was wet, and nearly frozen from the cold. This was the way winters were for him. Summers weren’t much better. They’d been this way since he could remember. His glass was definitely the half empty type. He stared at the old woman coming towards them. She walked fairly well, but slowly. SO slowly.

“C’mon Jack! Can’t she just wait for the next bus?”

Jack smiled patiently.

“Jack! She’s a hundred yards away still!”

Jack looked at the boy through his rear view mirror. “You could always help her lad. I wouldn’t want to be slippin’ on the ice. There’s a reason she walks slowly. All this ‘Go faster’ nonsense you been learnin’ isn’t necessarily the right way of goin’ about things. Catch my meanin’?”

The boy rose indignantly. He walked out to the woman, and totally changed. His face lit up, his smile shone forth, and his posture straightened.

“Hi there! Can I assist you ma’am?” Nobody would have guessed this was the half frozen, blue-lipped jerk of a teen that was on the bus a moment ago.

“You wouldn’t want to slip on this ice! Here, take my hand, let’s get out of this rain, shall we?” A person might have guessed he was the president’s son.

“Why thank you!” said the woman with the Scottish accent almost as heavy as Jack’s. “I’m glad there are boys like you around, who know what it is to be chivalrous!”

They walked quickly to the bus without slipping, but he never pushed her. She just walked faster, with his help. The entered the bus safely, intact, and he led her to a chair, waiting for her to sit down before he would.

“Well Jack, we’re ready!” the boy said, seemingly enthusiastically. Jack shook his head with a hint of a smile on his face, and the bus rolled away.

The streets in this city were like the streets of any other. Barbershops, grocery stores, and fast food chains, all littered the once untamed earth. The woman looked at the boy for a few moments.

“Pardon me son, but do I know you?” She asked slowly. He simply smiled back cheerily, and answered, “I don’t think so ma’am. Why do you ask?”

“I just… thought I’d seen you somewhere before…”

“Well, faces are all the same in many ways.” He turned and looked out the window. “It’s what’s behind them that’s so very different.”

The stared at his face as though studying, searching for a past she couldn’t know. She saw the tennis shoes, well tied, though slightly worn. She saw his shirt. Though it wasn’t tucked in and was left unbuttoned, it was a good brand, clean for the most part, collared, with long sleeves. Too long in fact. He rolled them back in a cavalier type of way.

“How old are you son?” She asked suddenly.

“Fourteen.”

“Really? You look and act much older. I would have guessed seventeen or eighteen at least! Your parents must be proud of you!”

“Thank you.”

“Where do you live?”

“Not too far from here. Nice place really.”

“Ah. Not giving away your address I see.” She chuckled a bit. “You are a bit mysterious. What’s your name?”

“Names are ID tags I don’t like much. I’ll use them with others, but I prefer not to have one myself.” Said the boy, turning from the window to once again meet the woman’s face. “What’s yours?”

“I won’t tell. Not until I get yours.” The woman said this in a sort of challenging way. Not rudely, but firmly. The boy only smiled for a moment, but then, as though it were an after thought, blurted out, “Josh.”

“Mary” she replied. The bus rolled to a stop. Josh walked to the door.

“It was a pleasure meeting you Mary. I hope to talk to you again.”

“You will. Don’t worry.”

Josh stepped off the bus into the drizzling, freezing rain. “See ya later, Jack.”

“Aye lad, I’ll be seeing ya.” The old bus driver responded, closing the doors. With that, the bus rumbled away from the stop, blowing its thick diesel exhaust out across a crowd of teenage highschool students just leaving a mall. Josh joined with them, though he really didn't fit in, and resumed his former slouched over posture and attitude.

As the bus rolled along, Jack spoke to Mary.

“I want to thank ya Mother.” He said with a hint of a smile. “The boy needs a bit of help. Known him for a year now, and things aren’t getting’ much better for him.”

Mary walked toward the front of the bus, much stronger than she had appeared on the street, and sat down next to Jack.

“Tell me Jack,” she started slowly, “Why don’t you call Josh by his name?”

The driver smiled and rubbed the whiskers on his face. “I didn’t know what it was until he told you today.”