Lunch break at a truck stop

It was lunch time, about 4 hours into the trip from Corumba to Campo Grande. The couple in the seats in front of me got off the bus to eat hamburgers. I decided to stay on board and eat crisps. After about 30 minutes or so of gazing through the window and enjoying the quiet time, the driver walked the length of the bus counting passengers’ heads. 60 seconds later, as the bus pulled away, I realised my neighbours weren’t on board. I feel that I almost need to apologise for the first thought that went through my head: “It serves them right. Who has a half-hour lunch without being sure what time the bus is going to leave?”

I looked through the window as we drove out of the car park and I saw them both come out of the cafe. They looked rejuvenated and pleasantly contented. They yawned and stretched. As I watched them, I tried to anticipate the point when their relaxed expressions would turn to apprehension, and then terror. I searched their faces for a sudden realisation and subsequent fear. It didn’t come as I expected. With furrowed brows, opened mouths and arms stretched wide, they posed in expressions of accusation in the direction of the bus as it drove away down the street. Somehow, they felt that their predicament wasn’t their problem. They stood gaping, waiting expectantly for the solution to present itself to them.

I looked around the bus. No one else seemed to notice the event. The couple on the back seat continued to slurp saliva back and forth. And the fuzzy-haired 4 year-old was still making faces at the cowboy 2 seats behind. I put down the half-finished bag of steak flavoured Ruffles, got out of my chair and walked towards the bus driver.

As I stared at the tops of the heads of the couple in front, their chairs fully reclined, skin relaxed on the back of hands that lay strewn over the back of the chair, fat fingers spread sedately over the fabric, I wondered how different their trip would have been if I didn’t tell the driver to go back and get them. They will never know.

3 comments:

  1. Hi Paul. Great writing here. This is the first of your stories I've seen... will go back and read the others later on.

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  2. I remember the perpetual panic of those bus rides. Maintain a constant state of vigilance...

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