What’s Left Behind

WHAT’S LEFT BEHIND

The woman made her way into the crowded bus, hoping to get a seat. Being of a certain age, she stood in front of the seats reserved for the elderly, infirm, or pregnant.  She was neither pregnant nor infirm, but she was elderly. Well, not elderly elderly, but considerably older than the twenty-something sitting in front of her, eyes on his phone.  He did not appear to fit any of the criteria on the sign above the seats.  The woman, Donatella, “accidentally” kicked his foot.  He looked up at her, annoyed.

She smiled.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I seem to have lost my balance.  On this moving bus.  Because I’m standing.  Not sitting. Like you. And because I’m old.  And you’re not.”  Her smile widened.

He continued to look at her, saying nothing.  Then, she noticed that he had air pods in his ears, and hadn’t heard a word she’d said.  Instead, all he’d seen were her lips moving.

The older gentleman sitting beside the Gen Xer, elbowed the young man.  “Give the woman your seat!  Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

The young guy took his air pods out of his ears.  “What!”

The older man squinted his eyes and pointed above his head.  “See that sign?  It says that the elderly, infirm, and pregnant get these seats.  Which one are you?”

The young man looked around, and was met with hostile glares from the other passengers.  “Okay Boomer, I get it.  She wants my seat.”  He shook his head as he gathered his stuff and stood up.  “Why are you travelling during rush hour, anyway?  The bus is crowded and I want a  seat.  But no, old fogies ‘need’ them.”  He made air quotes around need. “God!  You’re retired—you shouldn’t even be allowed to take transit when working people are trying to get to their actual jobs!  But you still do!  God!  You don’t own the world!”  He stomped to the back of the bus, muttering.  

Donatella sat down.  She turned to the man beside her.

“That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.  I was planning on kicking him, and falling into him the entire way to the subway.”  She smiled.

“Yeah, I was about had it with him anyway.  I’d already told him to stop man-spreading all over the seat—there are other people using the same seat.  He whined about not being comfortable with his legs closer together.”  The man shook his head.  “Like there’s that much to squish.”

Donatella smiled.  “Well at least he’s an equal opportunity boor—he doesn’t just disrespect old ladies, but old men as well.”

“I swear to God, if he was my grandkid, I woulda smacked him upside the head.”  He paused, “But then he’d probably have me charged with assault and Gramps would be in the slammer.”  He turned and held out a hand to Donatella.  “Jake Greesly, at your service.”

“Donatella Martini.”

They shook hands.

“So, Donatella, what brings you out on this crowded Tuesday morning?”

“I’m on my way to the passport office to renew my passport.  I’ve got less than six months on it, and I’m planning a trip to Morocco in the very near future.”

“I love Morocco!” said Jake, his face lighting up.  “My ex-wife and I travelled there about fifteen years ago.  It was amazing.”  He nodded his head, remembering.  “The food.  The people.  The colours.  The cities and towns.  The mountains.  The desert.  A truly remarkable country.  It’s one of the few countries that I’ve visited that I want to go back to.”

“Really?” said Donatella.  “That’s very high praise!”

“It’s a fantastic country.  And there is so much to do.  Are you travelling with a tour group?”

The end of his question was drowned out by police sirens passing the bus.  Donatella leaned in to better hear what Jake was saying.  He repeated himself.

“For part of the trip.  My friend Kyla and I are supposed to spend a week in Spain just outside of Barcelona, then take the train to Tarifa where we’ll catch the ferry over to Tangier and travel to Essaouira for a week at the ocean, then meet up with the travel group in Casablanca, and then spend two weeks on a tour.”

“Supposed to?” asked Jake.

Donatella shrugged.  “Millie, Kyla’s ninety-two year old mother isn’t doing that well, and Kyla’s worried about being away for a month.  So, right now we’re trying to figure out what parts of the trip, if any, she feels she can go on.”  Donatella smiled.  “But I’m still planning on—”  

The bus stopped suddenly, and Donatella rocked into Jake.  “Oops.  Sorry.”  Then it lurched forward, and Jake rocked back into Donatella.  “I love a smooth ride,” said Jake, smiling.

“Yes,” said Donatella, “Public transit at its finest!”

Jake smiled and leaned towards Donatella.  “You were saying, about your friend …”

“Right.” She paused, gathering her thoughts.  “I’m still going.  I could probably get some of my money back, but I want to go on this trip.  It’s important to me.”

“Good for you!  Have you done much solo travel before?”

She shook her head.  “No.  Before my husband died, we always travelled together.”  She smiled sadly at Jake.  “We had always talked about going to Morocco, but didn’t get the chance to go.  Now, I’m going to go for both of us.”

Jake considered her.  “That’s really brave of you.  I’m impressed!”

The bus pulled into the subway station, and all the passengers stood to get off.

“Which way are you going?” asked Jake.

“South to Queen station.  Then walk a couple of blocks to Victoria.  You?”

“I’m going south as well.” 

They walked through the station.  As they reached the platform, a southbound train was just pulling in.

“You’re a good luck charm,” said Jake.  “I usually have to wait forever for a south-bound train that isn’t packed.”  He looked into the cars as the train slowed down.  “And, it looks like we’re going to be able get a seat.  Wow!  My lucky day!”

As the doors opened, the young man from the bus pushed past them, and again, plopped himself into a designated seat.  Donatella looked at him, and spoke up.  “You’re kidding, right?”

He still had his air pods in, but he definitely got the gist of what she had said to him. He looked from her to Jake.  “Holy crap!  Stop following me!”  He got up and stomped down the car away from them.

They both laughed, and sat.  As the train pulled out of the station, Donatella asked Jake what he was doing downtown.  

“Just heading down to the Senior’s Space on Jarvis.  I take a few classes there.”

“Really?” asked Donatella.  “What classes.”

Jake looked a bit embarrassed.  “Well, I take yoga twice a week.  And I play pickle ball once a week.  And I belong to the knitting club.”  He smiled sheepishly.

“Knitting?” said Donatella.  ‘That was unexpected!”

“We knit hats for premature babies.”  Again with the sheepish grin.  “My grandma taught me how to knit.  She always said that if you have two needles and some wool, you’ll never be bored.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“I like the centre.  It breaks up my day, and I find the days sorta long, living alone.”

Donatella nodded.  “I know what you mean.”

Next stop, Dundas Station came over the loudspeaker.

“Oops!  That’s me!” said Jake, standing.  He turned to smile at Donatella.  “It was very nice meeting you, Donatella.  Good luck at the passport office.  And, enjoy Morocco.”

She smiled “It was lovely meeting you too, Jake.  Keep up the good work knitting all those tiny little hats.”

They smiled at each other, and then Jake was gone.

As she rode to the next station, Donatella felt oddly happy.  Drew had been gone for over a year, and this was the first time that she had enjoyed a conversation with someone she didn’t know—a complete stranger.  Too bad she’d never see him again.

*****

Donatella walked into the building, and looked around.  She stopped at the front desk and got directions to the room.

Taking a big breath, she walked into the room, and looked around.  There were about ten people sitting around, knitting.

“Donatella!” said Jake, rising to meet her.  “What are you doing here?”

She showed him her knitting needles.  “You made the seniors’ centre sound so welcoming, that I thought maybe I could join you, and get to know everyone.  I’m tired of being lonely.  It’s time I left that  behind, and started the next phase of my life.”

Jake smiled.  “Welcome.”