June 27, 2012

Squinting against the intense Texan sun, I wiped sweat from my forehead and finished my water bottle.

The beginning of day two, and I was over it. I couldn’t afford to think that way, though, not when I was just barely approaching the halfway point. I’d been trying to keep myself distracted with music and reading, as well as my journal. Thank God for my phone and the internet.

What did travelers do in the olde tymes? I shuddered just thinking about the miles of boredom.

Our bus driver of the moment ambled by, kicking up dust as he returned to the bus. He had to have been at least sixty. I wondered how long he’d been doing this. From his demeanor and the ever-serene expression on his face, I got the impression that he enjoyed his job, which was cool. I figured he’d probably seen every nook and cranny of this country by now.

Achy limbs and the need to shower aside, my trip was nowhere near as scary or awful as I’d imagined. Back when Alice had invited me back to Seattle, and I’d begun researching modes of transport, Greyhound buses were the absolute bottom of the barrel. As in, I wasn’t so sure I’d go if they paid me.

I got off my high horse pretty soon when I saw that airfare and even traveling by train were outside my budget. I was especially bummed out about Amtrak; seeing the countryside by train sounded so, so magical. But it was too damned expensive, and in the end, I bought a bus ticket for under a hundred bucks.

One thing was for sure: I was getting great pictures and seeing the innards of tiny towns I’d never known existed. I felt like I was truly seeing America, and while I doubted I’d ever do this again, part of me was really enjoying myself.

The part of me that like baths was a little whiny, but I tried to ignore that part for the time being.

I stretched one last time, and then followed my fellow passengers back on to the bus. We’d stopped at a McDonalds this time, not a bus station, so no one got on or off. That was another thing I’d learned: the bus itself wasn’t so bad…it was the bus stations that tended to be shady. Some were okay, but others were smelly or creepy, either crowded with potential threats or eerily empty. I kept to myself when we stopped at those, my arms tight around my bags, face pressed to the window.

I’d been lucky though. The two buses we’d been on had working air conditioners and ran well. We’d passed several other buses on the way, stranded on the side of the road. A couple had been charter buses, but others had been Greyhounds, like ours. I prayed almost non-stop ours would continue on to Seattle without issue. We’d be changing drivers a few more times, but not buses.

As we pulled away from Fort Stockton, I fingered the little plastic baggie in my pocket. Rose had slipped a couple of pre-rolled joints in there right before I’d left, little going away gifts. I’d never been much of a smoker before going to stay with Rose, but she and her beach friends had certainly whet my appetite for it. We’d thought my bus ride would’ve gone smoother with the help of a little bud, but so far I hadn’t seen any places that looked even remotely legit. The last thing I needed was to get arrested or left behind because I was too stoned to pay attention.

Texas took forever. It was the hugest state ever. I mean, I knew that from school, but actually journeying through it drove the point home more, no pun intended. It was pretty though, even the dry parts. Since leaving Florida we’d gone through Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and now Texas. According to Google Maps, we were now headed northwest to New Mexico.

Yawning, with a belly full from my McDonalds indulgence, I settled down with a book.

We pulled in to Phoenix, Arizona, sometime during the night. I was so turned around I didn’t know what time it was. It had to have been late, though, because the days were still summer-long.

This was a major hub, and a lot of people got off our bus. Anxious to see who was getting on, I fiddled with the strap on my bag. I had to sit next to people on and off throughout the trip, and I’d lucked out. A grandma, a guy who only spoke Spanish but slept most of the time anyway, and a really chatty girl who got on in Biloxi and de-boarded in Shreveport.

I hoped for an empty seat now, but as the bus filled steadily up I knew that I’d have to pick my bag up and allow someone to sit. Chewing my lip, I turned to the window. It was so dark outside I couldn’t see anything but the lit up reflection of the inside of the bus I was in.

He was the last one on. I watched him for a moment, watched his impassive nonchalance turn to a frown as it became apparent that there was nowhere to sit…

I turned, motioning silently to my seat. Our eyes met, and he nodded, his relief obvious as he picked his way down the aisle to where I was sitting.

“Thanks,” he said, grinning as he sat.

He smelled so good. Lucky bastard had probably just showered. Self conscious, I shrank as subtly away as possible, giving him a small smile. “No problem.”

“Edward.”

“Bella.”

He nodded again, settling back, his legs sprawled in the tight space.

I side eyed him, doing a little inventory. Nice profile, straight nose. Pouty lips, a little chapped… like mine. Pale skin, brownish hair. Maybe. The garish, bright lighting made it hard tell. I peeked again. Auburn?

He chuckled quietly, and my eyes snapped down.

I couldn’t be sure, but… I thought maybe he’d been side-eyeing me, too.