CROSSTOWN BUS
“Where the hell have you been, Red?”
It wasn’t an easy question for Elizabeth Hunter to answer while standing with her coat in one hand, the phone in the other and vainly searching the living room for her left boot (its disappearance courtesy of Rex, her precocious Jack Russell terrier).
“Jeanie, I’m almost out the door.”
“No you’re not. Hurry up. James North wants his books done today. And button up-the flu’s going around.”
“Well, it can just pass me by.” Elizabeth grabbed her coffee, and after a hearty sneeze, spilled a bit on her bootless foot. “What next?”
“What’s next is your butt if his year-end accounts are late again.”
“You little monkey, where’s my other boot?”
“How should I know?”
“Not you-Rex.” Elizabeth bent to pet the little monkey and nearly lost the rest of her coffee. “Jeanie, I’ll be there in twenty, if the darn bus isn’t late again.”
“Drive it yourself if you have to.”
“Anything for you, honey.” Elizabeth hung up and went in search of her missing boot. “Be nice to Linda today,” she said, wagging a finger at the unrepentant mutt. “Now, first things first,” she bent again and kissed his head, smudging his clean hair with red lipstick, “we find my boot, then your coat and leash.”
***
After dropping Rex off at Linda’s, Elizabeth walked quickly over to West 14th Street to catch the 14A going cross town. The only concession she made was to stop at a street curb coffee stand for a bagel and more brew.
The line at 14th was longer than she’d expected, but Elizabeth waited patiently, staring at the winter-burned faces. Faces were her passion-weekend painter that she was. A lot was behind a face, if you knew how to look. Dreams shattered, hate brewing, and love simmering just below the surface. Skin etched with deep lines, or stretched tight in youthful radiance. If you knew how to look, you caught it: That indefinable thing that gives us life.
Elizabeth spotted some of the same old troopers, who dragged themselves off to work every day: There was Jim- the guy who lived in her building and jogged every morning at the obscene hour of five; a couple of school kids still too young to experience life’s heartaches even in good ole New York; a few older men and women, who went God knows where at this hour. And then there was…
An angel. Elizabeth’s lips parted, and cold air whooshed down her throat like a cyclone: Three people up ahead of her, stood the most heavenly creature, golden as the sun above (actually the sun was in hiding on this frosty day, but the woman radiated enough light to make up for its absence). Lovely she was; skin a glow of alabaster, and eyes an unearthly blue. This face told of gentle rain and purple skies: A sprinkle of salt amid the sweet. A lovely angel.
She felt a nudge from behind. The bus had pulled up, but Elizabeth hadn’t noticed. And just as the riders were rushing the door, the glowing beauty stood out of line and turned to help an elderly woman onto the bus.
Touched by the act of kindness, Elizabeth smiled. It wasn’t everyday you witnessed manners like these. The young woman caught Elizabeth’s smile and inclined her head-a short greeting, a brief acknowledgement in a town where everyone seemed at times to be no more than wandering ghosts.
Elizabeth dropped her Metrocard into the slot and said hello to the driver, a man with long black locks. Ted was his name and he’d fought long and hard to prevent the City from cutting off his identity. Elizabeth, agreeing, had convinced some of the old timers, on the 7:15 to Tompkins Square, to write the Transit Authority on his behalf. Ted kept his locks and the passengers kept their favorite driver.
“Frosty out dere today, sista. Keep warm, mind you.” Ted’s rich sing-song warmed Elizabeth’s cold ears. “Grandmother here doesn’t know how.”
“I’ve been riding this bus for twenty-seven years-long before you were born, Teddy. So don’t tell me what I don’t know.” It was Iris, whom the heavenly vision had assisted onto the bus, but Adrienne hadn’t recognized her because of the new red coat she wore.
“Piss and vinegar, she is.” Ted frowned, but Elizabeth saw the mischief in his eyes.
“Good morning, Iris,” she said to the woman, who always sat opposite the driver. It was the first row. Reserved for the elderly and disabled, they were, but Iris considered herself neither. She just liked talking to Ted. “I love your coat,” Elizabeth added.
“Brand new-an early Christmas present from my son.” Iris beamed, but the young beauty next to her gazed warily at Elizabeth, giving her a slight chill.
Elizabeth usually took the seat opposite Iris so she could indulge her hobby of face watching, but this morning was different: the young Samaritan seated next to Iris, hands folded primly in her lap, legs crossed at the ankles, looked downright unfriendly.
Now the stranger’s pale eyes focused serenely on Iris, as if no one else on the bus existed. Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to sit opposite the two women. It seemed a rare shyness had overtaken her, making her most uncomfortable.
Finding a seat two rows back, she would have to be content with looking through the window as the 14A sailed out of Chelsea and down to Union Square, which had one of Rex’s favorite parks. Rexie. She wondered if the little bugger was acting up with Linda. Linda, a writer, kept long hours and believed that babysitting Rex was as much to her own benefit as his. Bless her, Elizabeth thought, for taking in the little tyrant while she went off to work.
Content that Rex was safe, and Linda had company, Elizabeth closed her eyes for a New York nap. As she drifted away, her mind sought out the warm climate of Hawaii, all the while silently counting the bus stops in her head. Then her multitasking reverie was disturbed by a voice clear as a bell.
“Driver, please stop!”
“Not here, lady. You want I get a ticket?”
Please, not today. Elizabeth sighed. There was always someone who broke the rules- an out-of-towner, no doubt.
“Please, it is an emergency!”
Ted hit the breaks, and Elizabeth’s eyes flew open, leaving the soft breezes of Hawaii behind. Angry murmurs, and low groans could be heard throughout the bus, confirming her thoughts.
“Oh no, not she. Not Grandmother!” Ted slid under the rail that enclosed the driver’s seat, and knelt in front of Iris. Her head lay propped on the beauty’s shoulder, gray hair mixing with the other’s gold. The young woman held her gently. “No pulse,” he said. After touching her neck once more, Ted got on his radio and called for assistance.
The riders got up without being asked, most dropping their gaze out of respect as they filed past, though a few-being old timers- gently touched Iris before leaving the bus. Elizabeth too, briefly touched Iris’s still warm cheek. Then her hand strayed to the young woman, but Iris’s protector drew back, wearing a look on her face Elizabeth could only describe as alarm.
Elizabeth hurried off, but didn’t wait for the next bus. Instead, she crossed the street, stopping for a moment to gaze at Iris’s temporary coffin. The young woman’s eyes, expressive in their sympathy, met hers. They watched each other for a moment longer until Elizabeth decided to make her way on foot down to Tompkins Square.
***
“I’d thought you’d never get here.” Jeanie grabbed Elizabeth’s coat and hung it in the closet. “Sit at down your PC, honey. Now!” she commanded.
Jeanie was an administrative assistant who could give a navy SEAL heart failure. Yet, Elizabeth was grateful: Just as she hit her seat, Romsfeld, the main partner of their CPA firm, sauntered in.
“Just about ready, Liz?” he asked, greedy eyes counting the dollars they would make off Mr. North.
“Yes. Is Mr. North here yet?” Elizabeth frowned, knowing she would disappoint her boss again this year by refusing to bilk their client.
“Be up in an hour-accident on the Belt this morning.” Romsfeld’s voice had a gravity to it that failed reached his eyes.
They waited for Romsfeld to leave. Then Jeanie rolled her chair up to Elizabeth’s desk. “You look like my sheets do before Harry sweats on them. You see a ghost or something?”
Elizabeth told Jeanie about her morning. Then she gratefully accepted her third cup of coffee. “It was so strange, Jeanie. The young woman-and she was beautiful, mind you-sat there holding Iris.”
“I couldn’t do it.” Jeanie shuddered. “The girl, is she nice and tall the way you like?”
“Gorgeous. Looks like a model.”
“A shame about poor Iris.” Then Jeanie brightened, “At least you met someone.”
“Met? She wouldn’t even let me touch her.”
“What are you doing touching people on a city bus?”
“It’s not what you think.” Elizabeth sighed, still seeing those haunting eyes staring at her from the bus. “I doubt I’ll ever see her again.”
“You’re going to see Mr. North soon, so I’ll get his files ready.”
“Thank you, darling. You’re an angel.”
“And where can this angel send flowers for Iris?”
“I’ll find out,” Elizabeth said. And she meant it, even if she had to call every funeral home in the city.
Elizabeth sneezed, and Jeanie threw up her hands. “I told you something was going around. I’ll get the Echinacea.”
Elizabeth was about to thank her again, but another sneeze got in the way.
***
Work had been little more than paid slavery today and Elizabeth had slaved so long that she’d missed Ted on the 5:15. When she finally got home, she walked down Ninth Avenue right past Rex, who was sitting in the window seat of Linda’s first floor apartment. She waved, and he barked, pawing the window in agitation. Every evening, she stopped at Ruby’s Pies and Coffee for a treat before coming back to Linda’s to retrieve her baby. Rex didn’t mind since he loved everything at Pies and Coffee, except the coffee.
Ruby was a genius: Anything that could be slipped under a piece of crust, Ruby would use it and turn the concoction into a delicious pie. Fruit, veggies, meat, nothing was safe from her ovens.
“Hiya, doll.” Ruby swished over and handed her two packages, one containing turkey pies and decafs. “Give this to Rex-it’s a combination hat and coat, and a little chew toy for Christmas.”
“I’d kiss you, but I have a cold.” Elizabeth took the gift-wrapped box and the red envelope with Rex Hunter written on the front. Ruby, who hated the season’s commercialism, was a soft touch for “the little ones”, which meant children and beloved pets. Even the little grouch, Rex, warmed her heart. “Listen,” Elizabeth said, pulling a twenty from her purse, “let me have another turkey. There’s a homeless man outside-”
“Howard?” Ruby held her hand two feet above her head to indicate the indigent’s height. She was shorter than a flea and round as a butter bean, as her mother always said. And her condemnation of slackers melted like snow on a warm day when it came to the down and out. “I gave him a ham and egg pie this morning, but you’re right honey: Man’s got to eat more than once a day.” Ruby handed over another delicacy.
Elizabeth nodded, and dropped some coins in the tip jar on the counter, then went outside.
The man sat on the ground, back against the wall, his head propped on his knees. Elizabeth said nothing; just handed him the pie and a card with the address of the nearest shelter. He threw the card away, but dipped his dirty fingers into the pie without thanking her.
Hard times, hard people, Elizabeth thought sadly.
***
“One of the regulars died on the bus today.” Elizabeth sat down at Linda’s kitchen table after scooping a generous portion of her pie-sans crust-onto a plate for Rex. “At least she wasn’t alone: a young woman stayed with her.”
“That’s terrible. And it’s so close to the Holidays.” Linda’s face glowed with red-tinged shame as she heard the rest of the story; she knew it’d end up in one of her novels when she had the need for such a scene. “No more details or I’ll write it down.” Linda dug into her pie. “How’s your sister doing?”
“She’s due any day now, and Walt’s hysterical.” Penny and Walter Baker were expecting a Christmas baby, which brought some much needed excitement to Elizabeth’s life.
“Will you have time to visit Toronto to see them and the little girl?”
Everyone, even Linda, had heard from Penny that the baby would be a girl. Elizabeth didn’t approve of doctors giving out that kind of information during a sonogram. Let the little one be a surprise. “No time off at year-end, but I’ll go the second week in January.”
“Good, then you can come to my Soul Mixer.”
Mixers. She hated Linda’s forced get-togethers. For all Elizabeth knew, her soul mate was living in Tibet and loathed to leave home.
“Don’t give me that look,” Linda groused. “I know you don’t believe me, but there’s someone waiting for you. Someone waits for us all.”
“All right, I’ll be there.” Elizabeth sighed, hoping Linda would at least turn up someone interesting for her to meet. Someone like the woman on the bus….
***
The next morning, Elizabeth went through her regular fire drill with Rex. She dressed the churlish curmudgeon in Ruby’s red Santa outfit, complete with a fuzzy white ball hanging from the end of the hat. And the thing had ear holes, which made Rex look like an alien invader. Disgusted, he sat his rump on the sofa and refused to let her slip the nylon booties on his paws.
After losing the face-off, Elizabeth took Rex for a long walk, where he suffered the ooh’s and ah’s from passersby, then she dropped him off at Linda’s. She left carrying a bag filled with Linda’s homemade cookies baked for her firm’s office party. What would she do without Linda, the treasure of her heart?
Out in the winter air, Elizabeth spotted the young Samaritan from the bus talking to Howard outside Ruby’s Pies and Coffee. Whatever the young woman had said, Howard disagreed. He flailed his arms about and screamed profanities at the unfazed young woman.
Elizabeth approached them, but was waved away by an impatient flick of the woman’s hand. So instead, she took up ground as a sentry, while the woman calmed Howard down. Then her neighbor, Jim, ran past and tugged her coat sleeve.
“Don’t be late for the bus-we’re taking up a collection for Ted today,” he said, still running.
Though she responded, he didn’t hear. Jim had on headphones; soothing music to get him through another tough day on Wall Street, or “Crushing Balls Street”, as he called it.
Elizabeth gave Howard and the blonde angel another glance before rushing off after Jim.
***
As luck would have it, Elizabeth was the last one to board the bus and she gave a start when she saw a sour puss staring back at her. His cold grey eyes seemed to say “Move on, lady. Sit down”. He was nothing like Ted, their cheerful driver. Ted: who let the young girls touch his locks; bragged with the boys about the Yankees; argued with Iris about life’s crazy conventions, and winked at Elizabeth each morning.
“Where’s Ted?” she asked Jim, who was hunkered down in his seat, grooving to mellow tunes.
“Don’t know,” he answered, eyes closed in a jazzy dream.
“You mean the dred-locked guy?” said Grey Eyes. The driver shook his head. “Sad thing it is- a young man seeing death like that. He’s on leave, ma’am.”
Grey Eyes waited before pulling away from the curb and Elizabeth glanced out to see what was holding him up. “Getting on, or not, lady?” He opened the door and called out to Elizabeth’s Samaritan, but the young woman remained on the sidewalk looking through the window at Elizabeth; her face a portrait of sad resignation, and hope, if you knew how to look at someone’s face.
Elizabeth, ever the artist, knew exactly how to do that. She waved.
The woman didn’t wave back, but nonetheless, Elizabeth felt a connection between them, deep and reassuring. The kind that took you to a place where life renewed itself with the passing seasons: A childhood of happy, free summers. That’s what the woman represented to her: A second chance.
Elizabeth waved again as the bus pulled off.
***
New Yorkers. These were her people; Elizabeth’s life’s blood. They rushed along the sidewalks of 5th Avenue like overworked ants: Darting in and out of stores for that last minute Christmas gift. Luckily, Elizabeth had bought her gifts early this year, even sending off a layette set for Penny and Walter’s upcoming bundle of joy. Her sister would be a mother for the first time, and Elizabeth, an aunt. So what was she doing on 5th Avenue running around with the rest of the ants?
Elizabeth knew her last minute trek was silly, but she wanted to pick up a little something for the Samaritan, who never smiled. It was crystal clear to Elizabeth-like the diamond teardrop hanging in Saks’ window: The young woman cared deeply for other people.
Elizabeth envisioned brushing her hands against the Samaritan’s skin as she placed the gem around her neck. Would it be winter-cool or warm as the glow from a fire? Who was she kidding? The woman had not even welcomed Elizabeth’s touch.
A moment of indecision filled Elizabeth’s soul, but the teardrop winked at her, and she filed into Saks.
***
Homeward bound on the 14A was uneventful, but noisy. A bag-laden, shell-shocked mother sat with her three kids, taking up the front row just behind the driver. It was old Grey Eyes, and Elizabeth saw him wince every time one of the little demons screamed.
The youngest, a boy around two years old, screamed the loudest, but quieted down when Elizabeth drew three cookies from her purse. His eyes rounded to twinkling saucers when she handed the gift over to him and his brothers. The gesture worked like a charm: Demons became cherubs, and all was peaceful on the Cross Town bus.
“Bless you,” the mother whispered to Elizabeth. Then she looked upon her silent whelps, “What do you say, boys?”
The kids cried out, “thank you!” loud enough to split the driver’s eardrums. Then all was blessed peace again.
When her stop came, Elizabeth got off behind the mother and three kids. She turned and waved back at Grey Eyes, who waited sullenly as new passengers boarded the Cross Town. He looked at her, nodding grimly, his one concession to the Holiday Spirit.
Elizabeth only walked three steps before the smallest cherub pulled away from his mother and ran into the street. The mother screamed, dropping her bags. Despite the three inch heels on her boots, Elizabeth rushed forward and pushed the boy away from the wheels of Grey Eye’s bus.
***
Adrenalin still pumping in her veins, a shaken Elizabeth strode past Linda’s apartment waving briefly at Rex before heading to Ruby’s Pies and Coffee.
“You cannot enter.”
A long elegant arm clad in winter white shot out in front of her, blocking her way. Elizabeth’s Samaritan gazed at her with crystal blue eyes.
“It’s you!” Elizabeth, though she’d bought the present, hadn’t figured on seeing the woman so soon. “I have a gift for you,” she said shyly.
The Samaritan leaned forward, the necklace gliding over the hood of her coat. And the gem glowed with an eerie intensity that startled Elizabeth.
“Jesus! I guess I’m still reeling from the accident, or I should say near-accident.” Elizabeth was about to tell the young woman what had happened, but was gently interrupted.
“Excuse me, Miss.” A man pushed past Elizabeth without giving the Samaritan a second glance.
“He is next,” the Samaritan said.
“What do you mean?”
“He saw you, just as you were able to see me.”
Elizabeth backed up a step, her hand dropping from the door handle. She stared at the Samaritan, who smiled for the first time. Just my luck, Elizabeth thought, to fall for a nut. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”
An ambulance sailed past, the wail of its siren piercing Elizabeth’s ears like needles. Then a fire engine and two police cars trailed behind.
Elizabeth’s gaze followed the flashing lights fast disappearing down 14th Street. And for the first time, the woman touched her, drawing her attention away from the light show.
“I will explain everything,” said the Samaritan, “but first, we must go to a place where no one knows you.”
“I don’t think I want to go anywhere with you.”
In a swift move, the Samaritan’s hand passed through Elizabeth’s chest, fingers brushing the chambers of her heart. Then years of gravity melted away as she hovered inches above stone pavement, feeling no more than a tingle. The Samaritan had lifted her up, effortlessly with one slender hand. Elizabeth gasped as the terrible realization slammed into her brain: “They’re for me?” she pointed toward the retreating vehicles.
The Samaritan nodded.
“The child?”
“He is safe.”
“And the driver?”
The Samaritan did not answer.
“He saw you, and so did Howard.” Elizabeth looked down at her clothes: pristine, nothing out of place. “May I ask one favor before…before…I-” She had no idea what happened after the soul departed from the body. Where will I go? Am I still human?
“What is your request?” the Samaritan prompted, glancing at the gold watch on her wrist like a travel agent booking the next flight.
Elizabeth had never seen gold like this: shimmering and swirling with vibrant colors, then returning to an immaculate yellow. “I…” Spellbound, she could not answer.
The Samaritan laid hands upon her, and Elizabeth felt the ground again. Light became flesh, and energy emerged as blood and bone. She lived.
“He knows.” The Samaritan said, understanding what Elizabeth wanted: Rexie was safe with Linda, and in time he would forgive her for leaving.
Relieved, Elizabeth closed her eyes. “What about Iris?” she asked, remembering her promise.
“Your administrative assistant sent the flowers.”
“But how-”
“There is no time; we must go.”
And when Elizabeth gazed up again at the Samaritan, she found them both standing in front of a café on 54th Street, an establishment she’d passed many times, but had never entered.
“This is the place,” the Samaritan said, her voice the forlorn sigh of an abandoned lover.
“Will you come in with me?” Elizabeth asked.
“I…suppose…but…” The Samaritan looked directly at Elizabeth, her face expressing surprise. Then her gaze became unfocused, slipping off into uncertainty. “No, I will not.”
Yet, Elizabeth saw hesitation in her golden one’s eyes. This woman-unwavering as a rock on the shore- was frightened, but of what?
“It is not usually done.” The Samaritan gazed down at the pavement, which had the café’s name, La Renaissance, etched on its surface. The cursive letters glowed like an inviting fire.
A doorman stood under the café’s awning, dressed to the nines in his black tails, white gloves and silver top hat. “Ladies, will you be joining us this evening?” He opened the door, beckoning them with a graceful hand.
“Will you?” Elizabeth asked again.
“It would mean a great change for my soul…something I may not welcome.”
Elizabeth saw deep circles beneath the Samaritan’s eyes; like ripe berries, a faint blush scored pale skin. And her skin was cool to the touch, but warmed when Elizabeth pressed her fingers upon the swell of a pale cheek: Sweet intoxication….
The Samaritan slowly closed her eyes. And snow drifted down; two flakes falling on her long lashes. Only the brush of Renoir can capture this beauty. Elizabeth closed her eyes too, painting lines and curves; her thumb brushing the slight impression in the Samaritan’s chin, her lips touching the velvet corner of the golden one’s mouth…
Weariness, Elizabeth thought. She is tired of catching souls. “It’s Christmas Eve,” she said, wondering what, if anything, that meant to the ethereal traveler. Most likely, it meant nothing at all. But, Elizabeth tried again: “I won’t eat my last meal alone, and you shouldn’t be alone, either.”
The Samaritan paused only a moment before offering Elizabeth her arm. And they approached the entrance.
Elizabeth stopped momentarily to gaze at her heavenly beauty. “I don’t even know your name,” she said, gazing with joy at the fascinating vision.
“Athena.”
“The Huntress.” How appropriate, Elizabeth thought, as they entered the warmth of La Renaissance Café.
Epilogue
Twenty years into the blush of youth, Elizabeth Ann Baker left her apartment on Lexington Avenue and headed out for a walk in the great city of New York. She was running late for a blind date, but had no desire to hop on a bus. For reasons beyond her comprehension, she’d always hated the darn things.
Though she sometimes felt sad in the city, even afraid whenever she passed La Renaissance Café, she was drawn to New York like metal to a magnet. This was the city where her heart belonged.
Snowflakes drifted on this cold day, settling like confetti on her red hair, stinging her blue-grey eyes, and turning her sculpted face pink. “Red”, her mother called her, “you’re a carbon copy of my dear sister.” Then her mother would make the sign of the cross, and kiss her rosary beads. “So like her….”
Elizabeth Ann grinned as she walked down Lexington to 14th: If only her mother knew exactly how much alike they were. It wasn’t just the physical resemblance, as she’d seen from tons of family portraits, but the artistic ability was exactly the same; her work a carbon copy of the aunt she’d never met. And the pleasure she took from being with a woman…. No, one woman, Elizabeth Ann amended. Somehow, deep within the weave of her renewed soul, she knew this one would be a heavenly creature….
And the heavenly creature, glowing like an angel on this winter’s day, waited outside Ruby’s Pies and Coffee for her soul mate, Elizabeth.
~The End~