Helen rides the bus, becomes overwhelmed
The bus stopped at Church and Redwood. A young Hispanic woman got on, carrying a baby. The baby was crying spasmodically. The bus quieted, as everyone tried to ignore the baby's unbelievable unhappiness. With dread, Helen realized the only empty seat on the bus was next to her. Sure enough, the woman sat next to her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Helen saw the woman give her a small, hopeful smile, as if to ask forgiveness. Helen just stared straight ahead, unable to deal. Of all things, a baby. A baby crying hysterically. She just couldn't handle it. She looked at the little thing, in its swaddling clothes, as the woman tried to comfort it by murmuring sing-song words in Spanish. To no avail, as the infant just cried and cried its guts out, almost choking on its own tears. Helen spent a minute studying it, feeling revulsion she didn't think she was capable of. She realized the woman was looking at her, with a worried, embarrassed expression, and despite the fact that they were around the same age, Helen felt the gulf between them, that she might envy Helen because she went to college and didn't have the burden of a child.
Helen stared out the window, trying to concentrate on that and only that. She felt another wave of sadness sweep over her, sadness for herself and for the world, where love was doomed and all children were unhappy. Like vomiting and yawning, crying was contagious. Despite her attempts to block them out, the baby's hysterical sobs were breaking through and eroding Helen's walls within. She had thought she might be able to hold back the tears until she got home, but she thought now they might pour out in front of the bus, the woman, in front of all of them. The final humiliation-incontinent with tears. This is what Todd had made her into, how he made her feel about herself. She clenched her fists, repeated "I will not cry" in a silent whisper over and over, in rhythm with the baby's screams. The rest of the bus was silent.
She felt trapped, in the back of the bus, surrounded by people she didn't know and didn't want to know. All she wanted was for the ride to be over, but it went on and on. The bus crept down Church St. stopping every block for seemingly no reason. It was all Helen could do to not scream out in frustration at the driver. What the fuck is wrong with you? Can't you even drive a bus right? Did every little thing have to go against her? Every person, every action, every moment?
The only thing that stopped her was that if she opened her mouth, she thought the delicate balance in her body would be altered and the tears would come, uncontrolled. She almost grabbed her jaw and held it in place with her hand, trying to stop the bawling that was building within. It was so strong she though it might burst out of her, tear a hole in her belly, leave her empty; just a husk, nothing but an incubator for the murderous spirit that had been unleashed on the world.
What kind of a world was it where Todd could cause her so much pain and not know it, not care, not have to feel responsible? He was a monster. And yet he was happy, so much happier than Helen, than the woman beside her, then most of the women she knew. He didn't deserve it, he deserved to rot in the lowest level of Hell, have his guts picked apart by vultures, his penis sliced off by a she-demon's talon and his testicles consumed by writhing worms. But there was no justice in the world. People did what they did, and if they had power they used it, and if you didn't you just suffered until the day you couldn't take it any more and you hurled yourself in front of a speeding passenger train.
A new and even louder eruption of sobs made Helen's eyes glance involuntarily at the baby next to her. How could something so defenseless, and ugly, that spent all of its time mewling, burping and shitting, ever grow up to be anything more. She didn't like babies. They scared her. They required constant attention. It was worse than having a pet. They needed you, and without your constant care, they would just die. She was never ever going to have a child, ever. She swore to herself, made an oath in her mind, to God if He existed and was watching and listening to the thoughts in her mind. She couldn't imagine bringing a child into a world like this. Like this bus. A place like Santa Zita. With men like Todd running it.
Helen knew that was how her mother felt about her, something that happened and got in her way-made her stay with her father longer than she would have. She couldn't just move out; she had to stay. The product of a loveless marriage. She never should have been brought into the world.
The bus slowed gain and stopped. Another shuffling line of people got one. Not matter who they were-old people, teenagers, housewives-all seemed to take forever to pay. It was the same every time, stop, doors open, people entered, then a few moments of motion, followed by exactly the same thing again. Helen couldn't take it anymore.
—Excuse me, she said in a gasping voice.
The young woman pressed her howling baby to her chest and quickly moved out of Helen's way, looking at Helen fearfully as if she thought Helen might injure her infant. Helen said nothing to her, but charged up the aisle, grabbing the seat handles as the bus swayed.
—I missed my stop, can I please get off here? Helen said loudly. Her voice came out in an imperious screech, which caused those near the driver to look down and away in embarrassment. Helen had stopped caring what people thought of her, just stared at the driver's face in the mirror. In another, she saw herself, and her red-rimmed eyes.
The bus driver, glaring at her with a mixture of fear and irritation, slowed the bus and opened the door.
—Fine, get off.
Helen scrambled off, in the middle of the steep downhill incline of Laurel St, just a few blocks from Holly. The moment she stepped off the bus, the dam broke and she felt the hot tears stream down her face. She wiped her face repeatedly with the back of her hand, but they just kept coming. She could barely see well enough to avoid the places where tree branches had broken through the surface of the sidewalk, the cracks from the quake that still hadn't been fixed.
A cold wind below from the ocean, making her eyes sting and water even more. She had to stop and soak her eyes with her sleeve before she could continue. She saw her house, dusty ochre yellow. The lights were off, to her relief. That was all she wanted right now-a dark house, and a bed to cry on.
Out of the corner of her eye, Helen saw the woman give her a small, hopeful smile, as if to ask forgiveness. Helen just stared straight ahead, unable to deal. Of all things, a baby. A baby crying hysterically. She just couldn't handle it. She looked at the little thing, in its swaddling clothes, as the woman tried to comfort it by murmuring sing-song words in Spanish. To no avail, as the infant just cried and cried its guts out, almost choking on its own tears. Helen spent a minute studying it, feeling revulsion she didn't think she was capable of. She realized the woman was looking at her, with a worried, embarrassed expression, and despite the fact that they were around the same age, Helen felt the gulf between them, that she might envy Helen because she went to college and didn't have the burden of a child.
Helen stared out the window, trying to concentrate on that and only that. She felt another wave of sadness sweep over her, sadness for herself and for the world, where love was doomed and all children were unhappy. Like vomiting and yawning, crying was contagious. Despite her attempts to block them out, the baby's hysterical sobs were breaking through and eroding Helen's walls within. She had thought she might be able to hold back the tears until she got home, but she thought now they might pour out in front of the bus, the woman, in front of all of them. The final humiliation-incontinent with tears. This is what Todd had made her into, how he made her feel about herself. She clenched her fists, repeated "I will not cry" in a silent whisper over and over, in rhythm with the baby's screams. The rest of the bus was silent.
She felt trapped, in the back of the bus, surrounded by people she didn't know and didn't want to know. All she wanted was for the ride to be over, but it went on and on. The bus crept down Church St. stopping every block for seemingly no reason. It was all Helen could do to not scream out in frustration at the driver. What the fuck is wrong with you? Can't you even drive a bus right? Did every little thing have to go against her? Every person, every action, every moment?
The only thing that stopped her was that if she opened her mouth, she thought the delicate balance in her body would be altered and the tears would come, uncontrolled. She almost grabbed her jaw and held it in place with her hand, trying to stop the bawling that was building within. It was so strong she though it might burst out of her, tear a hole in her belly, leave her empty; just a husk, nothing but an incubator for the murderous spirit that had been unleashed on the world.
What kind of a world was it where Todd could cause her so much pain and not know it, not care, not have to feel responsible? He was a monster. And yet he was happy, so much happier than Helen, than the woman beside her, then most of the women she knew. He didn't deserve it, he deserved to rot in the lowest level of Hell, have his guts picked apart by vultures, his penis sliced off by a she-demon's talon and his testicles consumed by writhing worms. But there was no justice in the world. People did what they did, and if they had power they used it, and if you didn't you just suffered until the day you couldn't take it any more and you hurled yourself in front of a speeding passenger train.
A new and even louder eruption of sobs made Helen's eyes glance involuntarily at the baby next to her. How could something so defenseless, and ugly, that spent all of its time mewling, burping and shitting, ever grow up to be anything more. She didn't like babies. They scared her. They required constant attention. It was worse than having a pet. They needed you, and without your constant care, they would just die. She was never ever going to have a child, ever. She swore to herself, made an oath in her mind, to God if He existed and was watching and listening to the thoughts in her mind. She couldn't imagine bringing a child into a world like this. Like this bus. A place like Santa Zita. With men like Todd running it.
Helen knew that was how her mother felt about her, something that happened and got in her way-made her stay with her father longer than she would have. She couldn't just move out; she had to stay. The product of a loveless marriage. She never should have been brought into the world.
The bus slowed gain and stopped. Another shuffling line of people got one. Not matter who they were-old people, teenagers, housewives-all seemed to take forever to pay. It was the same every time, stop, doors open, people entered, then a few moments of motion, followed by exactly the same thing again. Helen couldn't take it anymore.
—Excuse me, she said in a gasping voice.
The young woman pressed her howling baby to her chest and quickly moved out of Helen's way, looking at Helen fearfully as if she thought Helen might injure her infant. Helen said nothing to her, but charged up the aisle, grabbing the seat handles as the bus swayed.
—I missed my stop, can I please get off here? Helen said loudly. Her voice came out in an imperious screech, which caused those near the driver to look down and away in embarrassment. Helen had stopped caring what people thought of her, just stared at the driver's face in the mirror. In another, she saw herself, and her red-rimmed eyes.
The bus driver, glaring at her with a mixture of fear and irritation, slowed the bus and opened the door.
—Fine, get off.
Helen scrambled off, in the middle of the steep downhill incline of Laurel St, just a few blocks from Holly. The moment she stepped off the bus, the dam broke and she felt the hot tears stream down her face. She wiped her face repeatedly with the back of her hand, but they just kept coming. She could barely see well enough to avoid the places where tree branches had broken through the surface of the sidewalk, the cracks from the quake that still hadn't been fixed.
A cold wind below from the ocean, making her eyes sting and water even more. She had to stop and soak her eyes with her sleeve before she could continue. She saw her house, dusty ochre yellow. The lights were off, to her relief. That was all she wanted right now-a dark house, and a bed to cry on.
Works
Recent Writing
- Andy Warhol's Sister: Truth and Beauty
- Volume III: Table of Contents
- Volume III: Michael in the dark wood
- Notes For a Future Novel: Michael in the dark wood
- The Deep & Savage Way: Michael experiences doubt