“San Rafael.”
“Sorry for bumping you. Too much coffee. I’m jittery.”
“That’s okay.”
“Do you live in San Rafael?”
“No.”
“Got a job there?”
“No.”
“Why are you going there?”
She hesitated but his rapid fire questions
continued.
“Meeting one of my friends from college. Her parents live there.” She
pulled in a little closer to the other side of her seat.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’m not dangerous.”
“Well,” she said nervously, “I didn’t think you
were dangerous. I was just making room.”
“You’re not sure though.”
“How can anyone be sure on a bus full of people you’ve never
met?”
“Look, let me explain. I just finished rehab in San Francisco.
Addiction. Salvation Army.” He pulled a binder out of the backpack, jostling
her again, just a little. She smiled a little. “They say this
will help me stay clean and sober. Anger management. I’m not
really angry. Never get angry. My sponsor said answer all the questions.
I’m trying to be honest now.”
“Yeah.”
“See, my sponsor said that I’d be confused for awhile. I feel
like I’m faking it. But I don’t want to get back into
drugs. So on this page we’re supposed to draw an animal that
would be us mad. I mean how weird is that? You’d think everyone
would draw a pit bull or a lion or something, but I don’t feel
like that. That is why I drew this penguin. See? It is saying ‘I’m
an irritable penguin. If I’m mad I wouldn’t do much,
but I talk a lot of shit.’ See, I’m not dangerous.”
“Okay.”
“Where do you go to college? Wish I’d gone to college. I wanted
to. After awhile it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Don’t
laugh, but I wanted to be a nurse.”
“I’m not laughing. Do you live in San Rafael?”
“No. My sister does. I’m going to stay with her for
awhile. Go to meetings.”
He touched his hair.
“She’s going to cut my hair, too. She’s wanted to for
a long time. I wouldn’t let her get anywhere near it.” He
pointed to the penguin. “Her nagging was irritating. But maybe
it will help me get a job. Maybe she was right. My stop’s coming
up. Have fun with your friend. If I’d gone to college, maybe
none of this would have happened to me.”
“There’s lots of drugs at college, too.”
“You?”
“Tried pot twice. I didn’t like it the first time. I hated it
the second time. It made my head go fast, but I just sat there and
couldn’t do anything. And it burned my lungs.
“You have to smoke it more to get used to it. I was good at that. Should
have tried to study that hard instead.”
“You still could. Maybe. If you want to.”
“No. I can’t. See ya. If my sister can’t pick me up, it’s no
big deal. I can walk. It’s not that far. I’ve walked farther than
that to get drugs. See ya.” His backpack bumped into her again, one last
time.
“Good luck. You can do it,” she said gently to his tall, skinny self as
he walked away, with a gait that reminded her of her brother.
After he got off
the bus, she started to cry. She cried until she arrived at the Transit Center
where her friend’s parents were waiting for her, smiling
and waving.
