The last stop

Nigel, in his blue corduroy trousers and grey waterproof, climbed aboard the 214b from Coventry central. The warm air of the buses heating a welcome reprieve from the chilled October morning.

“All day ticket please” The young bus driver granted his wish and the ticket was printed out for him. He perused the available seats and chose one half way back. Not too close to the front, not too close to the back with a lovely view of the City hustle and bustle. It was Nigel’s intention to ride the bus all the way to the end of the line and then all the way back again a sad little day trip for a sad little man whose life was falling apart at the very seams.

His wife, Carol, had been suffering from dementia for the last 5 years and now as she was nearing the end of her life having a few hours off as her carer brought a mixture of relief, guilt and panic that she might suddenly die whilst he was gone.

As he looked out the window he reminisced about the good old days when they would pack up their dogs into their motor home and travel around the coast stopping for fish and chips and a cheeky cider. He wished he could turn back time to one specific, precious moment. They had been parked up in a little cove in Cornwall overlooking a rough sea as the rain lashed down on their windshield. The sun had shone through the rain and a rainbow had appeared right in front of them, it was the most perfect moment for two young lovers wasted on two oldies. Carol had retrieved two fruity ciders from a picnic basket in the back and handed him one and they had held hands and looked out to sea watching the intoxicating show nature was putting on for them. It wasn’t a fancy moment or a big moment but it was a little moment that he treasured now and that he wished he had treasured more at the time.

People got on and off the bus at random busy with their own lives. A young mum pushing a toddler in a pram, a couple of teenagers been too noisy for the older woman who tutted at them as they said some naughty words a bit too loudly. All of them preoccupied with problems that didn’t really seem like problems to Nigel. He missed Carol. She would have sat next to him on the bus and made funny little stories about the different people going about their days. The woman with the baby would have been off to meet someone rich and famous and the old woman would have been a secret assassin riding the bus to avoid suspicion. She was clever like that, always had something funny or witty to say that Nigel would have never have been able to come up with on the fly.

The diagnosis had hit her hard. She had been determined in the first year not to lose herself, obsessively playing sudoku and brain training games because she’d read in one of her lady magazines that they were good for your memory. She used to sit and look over family photos and test herself about great aunt what’s her name and that man that everybody called cousin but was actually her nanas, sisters, ex husbands son from his first marriage. But slowly, over time, she had forgotten them all, forgotten herself, forgotten him and forgotten the life they had built together. I’m these moments he was both relieved and sad they hadn’t had kids. Relieved they didn’t have to watch her diminish like he was but so overwhelming sad that no one else shared his memories now she was ebbing away. Those precious moments on the coast lived on in his head only.

As the bus continued on, on it’s never ending journey the gap between the stops got longer and longer and the view from Nigel’s window changes from cold grey concrete to warm green fields and trees dashed with burnt orange leaves. The bus pulled to the side into a lay-by and the driver switched off the engine.

“this is the last stop mate, are you getting off?” The bus driver, a young woman around 30, eyed him suspiciously.

”I’m not getting off thanks love I’m just riding the bus until the end and back” as he said it aloud Nigel realised how insane it sounded, so he hastily added “I’m not mental or anything I just needed a break from caring for my wife.” This he noted didn’t make him sound any less weird.

”oh, right, we’ll we’re going to be stopped here for about 20 minutes while I have my lunch break if that’s alright?” Nigel raised up his pack lunch box in solidarity “Ham and cheese!” He shouted a bit too enthusiastically. She laughed and held up here clingfilm wrapped squashed sandwich “Egg Mayo!” She shouted back. They both laughed. “Is your wife alright?” The young bus driver enquired.

”she’s got dementia I’m afraid, not long left, we’ve got the macmillan nurses and her sister in today to give me a break and I just needed to go somewhere different for the day.”

The young bus driver nodded knowingly “my dad died at the start of the year, my mum looked after him til the end. It’s a lot”

“sorry about your dad, is your mum ok?”

”she has her good days where she is almost back to normal and sometimes she has bad days but I’m one of four so there are enough of us to help her.”

”your dad would be proud of you I’m sure looking after your mum like that.”

the young bus driver began to tear up a bit and looked at the floor.

” I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

”you didn’t, it just gets me sometimes, thank you for saying my dad would be proud. I needed to hear that.”

They ate their sandwiches in silence. Nigel got out his flask and poured himself a tea.

”well! Back to reality!”

The young bus driver climbed back into her cab and settled herself in for the long journey back.

The bus throbbed back into life as they began their journey back to the city.

”back to reality” said Nigel to himself.