No More Privacy

A metro bus ride these days can be quite an intimate ordeal.  Take my trip to the City the other day.  I sat toward the back of the bus next to a window.  As a young man sat down next to me, he gave a little smile then arranged his young son on his lap.  We all faced forward, acting interested in the other passengers, as they found their seats.

My bus stops a few times on the way to the freeway, picking up more men, women, children, teens, elders and often even a dog.  We are all headed for the Big City.  I am anticipating a visit with an old friend, so my thoughts are on the lunch date I have scheduled.  I smile at the little boy sitting on his father's lap, as his little sneaker lightly bumps my knee.  His father reins in the boy's exuberance and smiles an internationally recognized apology.  The kind that says, "Boys will be boys."  I wonder if he speaks English, but before I get a chance to strike up a conversation, I am distracted by a phone conversation behind us.

"Yeah, I'm on my way there now. ......  I know, yeah, I'm exhausted but I've got to get back up there.  I want to be there when he wakes up again."

This voice of an older man talking on his cell phone, not three feet from my ear has caught my attention.   The rudeness of eavesdropping no longer pertains..... does it?  Phone booths are archaic and only used in old black and white movies.  Privacy? What IS that?

"Well, no I can't say he does.  Last night he asked the nurse if he could watch TV.  I don't think any of this has sunk in.  I finally had to tell him that they had amputated his leg."

The bus in on the freeway now.  No more stops 'til downtown.  We are in this very loud cocoon barreling down the road, but my ears are now tuned to  hear only the voice behind me.

"I just wish his mother was not gone.  She'd know how to handle this."

Next to me I feel the man holding his breath right along with me.  His son is busy watching the cars and trucks speeding by outside the window.

"Before I left last night, I heard him talking to the nurse.  He told her that Uncle Charley said he has no foot. ... No, no he didn't ask her if it was true.  It was like he was saying that I had told him a joke, silly me.  Maybe his mind is taking it in baby steps.  I know mine sure as hell would like to.  I can't just tell him all of it at once. 'Honey, you mom's dead, your leg has been cut off and I don't know where your father is.'  ........ I know, I know.  I hear what you're sayin' Lola, but Lord, he's ONLY six!"

At this point I finally take a breath and look out the window to the mountains in the distance.  I hear the gentleman say, "Oh, ok ... ok ...later then. Bye."  Click!  

In my mind's eye I see the phone flipped shut and imagine a man looking out the window at the distant mountains.

I sneak a peek at the young father next to me.  His face is half hidden by dark curls as he places a gentle, lingering kiss on top of his son's head.