The Greyhound bus hugs the end of the sidewalk. A gentleman in a navy tracksuit leans against the side. He’s balanced on a single Reebok sneaker, with his back covering a sliver of the canine logo on the metallic wrap. When I get closer, I make out a small badge clipped to his zipper.Carl, it says, printed on shiny plastic.
With an upward swing, I muscle my suitcase into the under-storage compartment. The sound of the wheels rattling against the metal frame does nothing to draw the driver’s attention from his phone. A familiar ditty plays as I approach the stairs.
Candy Crush. Aunt Karen’s pick-me-up game at the end of a long day.
I tried it once. All it taught me is that she is the queen of competition.
My own phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I slip it out. Speak of the devil…
“Hi,” I say to her, but really intend it for Carl’s ears. Because now he’s blocking the doorway.
I shuffle back and forth, looking for an opening as he triple-taps the screen with his index finger. It chimes again.
“Take that, sucker!” he bellows, and I squint.
What is it with people and that game?
“Hayes? Did you make it okay?” I clutch my phone tighter.
“Yeah, my flight landed about thirty minutes ago.”
I wave my hand near Carl’s face. Nothing.
“How was it?” she asks.
“It was—” I picture Reed flashing me that dimple. Serenading the entire plane with his mixed-up lyrics. Distracting me from my crippling anxiety. Telling me to remember him.
“Unforgettable,” I finish.
Did that come out breathy? I clear my throat.
“Uh-huh… and who’s the guy?” she asks between smacks of her gum.
I tap Carl on the shoulder and he doesn’t even flinch. It’s like he’s made of stone. Or existing in an alternate reality.
“What guy?” I grunt.
“Hayes, come oooon,” she draws out. “You don’t have an unforgettable flight unless there’s a guy.”
“It was unforgettable because I got a nap in,” I bark, hoping the sound will startle the bus driver.
“Are you sure you napped?” she teases.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just”—I huff, hoisting my bag over my shoulder—“TRYING TO GET ON THE BUS!” I shout it this time, clapping in his face.
“Woah! More like trying to get your hearing back. Did you chewanyof that gum I stuffed in your backpack? I told you it would help during take-off and landing.”
No. I ate a handful of M&Ms.
I scan the sidewalk. There’s a family not far from me, but the dad is focused on loading their luggage in the back end of an SUV while the mom is buckling their toddler into a booster seat. No one is watching.
“Excuse me.” I knock into Carl. Hard. He nearly drops his phone.
“Huh?” he says, acknowledging me with a blank stare.
I curtsy.Curtsy. Like he’s the Duke of Westminster, and I am indebted to his service.
He peers at me through confused eyes.
