Page 25 of The Second Chance Bus Stop
When he gets off the phone, he doesn’t leave like I thought he would. Everyone has to be somewhere, and I’m pretty sure that somewhere for Blade isn’t next to the E4 dual carriageway with a stranger.
‘This may be a bad idea. Especially since you declined help once already,’ he says and looks down at his feet.
‘Are you planning on crashing another funeral? Then, yes. That is a bad idea.’ I watch as his chest inflates then releases all the air out.
‘I was going to say that you could catch a ride with me. I’m heading north, as you know. And still have more than enough room in my RV. The offer still stands.’
I look at him, speechless. He continues, and this time he looks at me and as much as I can’t stand it when people don’t make eye contact, I would prefer he not, simply that because his eyes are just... unsettling. I thought I was good at eye contact, after years of practice and rewards in therapy. Turns out I’m not, and that too much of it can make you flustered enough to say things you may not mean. Like,
‘Yes.’
‘Yes?’ he says, his eyes leaving mine just long enough for me to collect myself, my pride and my thoughts. I reverse my mistake.
‘I mean—yes, that would be an utterly insane idea, which I’d obviously say a firm no to.’ There, order restored. In control.
‘Oh.’
‘Thank you for offering, and whilst I may seem a little out of sorts right now, I actually quite orderly the rest of the time.’The opposite, actually. ‘Unless you count occasionally eating the dessert before the main course.’
‘Seriously?Why,though?’
‘In case I suddenly drop dead at the dinner table like Pablo Picasso, I’d have hated to miss out on pudding. Especially if it were brownies or anything with salted caramel.’
Blade looks at me with interest before averting his gaze and staring at his shoes again. They’re good shoes. Nikes.
‘Sure. I’ll just wait with you until the towing arrives and then you’ll be okay...?’ he says.
‘I’ll be okay.’ I only met this man yesterday and if I was okay the twenty-five years prior to that then I should be okay going forward. But... something in his hopelessly disappointed appearance makes me feel pity.
‘Look. It’s very kind of you to offer. I just don’t feel comfortable.’ This does not have the effect I intended—to soften things. He stiffens immediately and looks almost pained.
‘If you don’t feel safe around me I understand fully. I should never have suggested it. I respect that. I’m sorry.’
‘What? No. I feel safe around you.’ As I say it, I realise it’s true. And it’s rare. Usually there’s an undercurrent of subtle threat when I’m alone or even close to men. Men are harder to read than women. I never know if, or rather,whenthey might hurt me, or when they might make a move on me, or when they might want nothing to do with me altogether. But here I’ve been alone at the side of a road in a ditch that would make an excellent dumping ground for a body, and I haven’t felt uneasy at all. Blade has made things weirdly easy for me.
‘How far would you say the truck is now?’ I really have to be on my way.
‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’
‘Maybe.’ The quicker he leaves the quicker my body canstart to recover from the unexpected social interaction and feel like my own again.
‘Maybe there’s a live location for it. Let me check.’ Blade pulls out his phone and checks. ‘Nope, but shouldn’t be long.’
‘Well, let me take this opportunity to make some arrangements.’ I say and unlock my screen.
I text Lina, and the immediate blue ticks tell me she’s up and baking already.
Me:Car broke down. Currently with man who pops up everywhere unwanted like a dandelion on a lawn.
Lina:As in the man I met yesterday in your shop?
Me:That would be the one. Complete with yellow beanie and annoying attitude/general demeanour.
Lina:Couldn’t have planned this if I tried. Are you at least considering a space in his van now? Or will you not go?
Me:Mobile home. Not van. He did offer again and I said no. What I know of him so far: crashes funerals, peculiar interest in old men, pops in unannounced and doesn’t spend money in small florist businesses. He doesn’t seem like the bullying type but what happened to the Lina who tells me ‘Sophia, watch your drink and text me when you get home’?
Lina:You’re delivering flowers, he’s interviewing oldies. This seems like a professional enough venture to me. Also, please remind me of your alternate options? I’ll wait while you think.
