Intimate Strangers

The weather warning came in the morning when I was preparing to drive into the city, so at the last minute, I decided to take the bus. It wasn’t my idea, but my friend Pearl was very persuasive. 

“Buses are slower but they are safer when there’s snow because their visibility is so much better,” Pearl encouraged. “I don’t like the thought of you white-knuckling it down the highway for hours.” 

I didn’t much like that idea either but the thought of travelling on a crowded bus, inching its way through every small town on the way to the city wasn’t all that enticing either. In the end, I decided to give the bus a try swayed by the fact that I’d not yet had a chance to put snow tires on my vehicle and the storm had caught me by surprise. 

Living in the country has its share of challenges and weather is one of them. One time I drove my Volkswagen into town during a snowstorm and got stuck there for two days. By the time I got home the snowbanks were so high, I could barely see my neighbour’s house. Usually, those storms came later in the winter but this was the first storm of the year so everyone was caught a little off-guard. 

Pearl drove me to the bus station and waved me off and I managed to get a window seat as Elmwood was one of the first stops. I settled myself in and we set off, the wind whipping up the snow outside. I started to relax and enjoy the fact that I didn’t need to worry about the conditions getting worse and was glad that I had listened to Pearl’s advice. I was praying silently that the seat beside me wouldn’t get taken and that I might enjoy a blissfully peaceful ride without anyone nattering in my ear. 

That was always a risk that you took when travelling alone, wasn’t it? That some gregarious stranger might plunk themselves beside you on a plane, or in this case a bus, and proceed to tell you their life story even though you didn’t express even the slightest interest in making conversation. I always smiled politely and then put on my eye mask and pretended to sleep so I wouldn’t have to engage. It usually worked very well, especially for long journeys and if that failed there were always headphones to block out the chatter. Even if I wasn’t listening to music or watching a movie, headphones, especially the bulky ones, were great for deterring conversation.

I had my trusty headphones at the ready if needed but for now, I was enjoying just spacing out and looking out the window at the snow swirling across the frozen landscape. What were once fields of corn, barley or hay were now turning into one clean white canvas. Sometime later we pulled into the next stop and there was quite a big crowd there waiting to get on. I guessed that other people had the same fear of driving in a snowstorm and decided to leave the journey in the hands of a professional. As the passengers started streaming onto the bus, I started to have an anxious feeling. Sure enough, a red-faced older woman puffed and panted her way down the aisle and stopped at my row. She heaved herself into the seat and plopped her large handbag into the seat between us. 

“There never seems to be enough room on these buses for your personal items,” she said. “Well, at least the middle seat is free for now.” 

I smiled at her but kept to my rule: Do not engage. Under no circumstances do you engage. 

“I don’t often travel in the winter, but my grand-niece is being Christened on Sunday and I just had to be there. There will be a little party afterwards and I’m going to treat myself and stay at a hotel for a couple of nights.” 

I smiled again and pointed to my headphones and closed my eyes. I could tell from the first moment that I laid eyes on her that this woman was a chatterbox. I couldn’t imagine having to listen to her banter for the next three hours so I closed my eyes as a further indication that I was not going to listen to her stories. With great relief, I saw out of the corner of my eye that she got the message and was no longer attempting to draw me into conversation. I relaxed and the gentle hum and movement of the bus lulled me to sleep. 

I woke with a start. The bus was not moving and we were stopped in what looked like the middle of nowhere. Lights were flashing and when I looked out the window, I saw several police cars. The driver was getting off the bus to talk to the officers and they were all bracing themselves against the driving wind and snow. 

“Looks like it might be an accident,” my neighbour said. “My name’s Hazel. I guess you’ve been sleeping for a while.” 

“Hello, Hazel. I’m Janice,” I replied, no longer able to hide behind my headphones. 

After what seemed like ages, the bus driver finally got back onto the bus. 

“It seems the road has been closed because of the drifting snow and poor visibility. The officer’s say we have to turn around here and head back to the closest town which is Allendale. By the time we get there, they will have made arrangements to put us all up for the night. The storm should be gone by the morning.”

His voice was surprisingly cheerful under the circumstances. Although it wasn’t a full bus, there were still at least 30 of us aboard. How on earth would they be able to accommodate us all in such a small town?  I don’t know if I even recall Allendale having anything that resembled a hotel or motel. I started feeling anxious as the bus turned around and headed back to Allendale. This was not the way I had expected this day to go. 

By now the storm was really in full force and the bus was crawling along trying to stay on the road. It took us about an hour to travel 10 kilometres and when we finally arrived there was a small group of people huddled inside Bert’s Café. They were looking as anxious as I was feeling. The driver opened the doors and we all piled out into the café where we were met by Bert and Tanya the mayor. The latter was carrying a clipboard and looking efficient.

“Welcome to Allendale folks. Sorry that you had to have your trip interrupted but I assure you we are going to make every effort to keep you safe, warm and comfortable for the night. The good people of the town have stepped up and volunteered to put you all up for the night. I’m going to call out your name and please raise your hand when I do.” 

One night. How bad could it be? And it was very kind and generous of the good people of Allendale to open their homes to strangers. I listened for my name and when I heard it raised my hand. As I did, I noticed that Hazel also had her hand up in the air. We looked at each other.

“I guess we’re going to stay in the same place, lovey,” she said. “I think we’re going with Mr and Mrs Dale and staying above their bakery.” 

We grabbed our bags and were led by the kind-faced Mr Dale across the street, the wind whipping our faces with the biting snow. Even though it was just a few feet away, by the time we got inside the door we were all feeling frozen. Mr Dale helped carry Hazel’s bag and I ended up holding onto her arm to steady her. It took some time to climb the stairs up to the Dale’s apartment but when we got there Mrs Dale was waiting for us with tea and biscuits hot out of the oven. I had to admit that their kindness was heart-warming and generous. 

This could have been much worse, I thought to myself. If you had to be stranded anywhere for the night it might as well be with a kindly couple above their bakery. After we had our tea and biscuits, Mrs Dale led us to a pink room at the very back of the apartment. 

“It’s not much, but I think you ladies will be very comfortable here,” she said. 

I noticed to my horror that the room contained only one double bed. “You mean we will have to sleep in one bed?” I asked, my voice not able to conceal my shock. 

“I’m afraid that’s all we have. But it’s a double bed so you should have lots of room.” 

Hazel thanked Mrs Dale profusely and I smiled, still unable to take in what was about to occur. Hazel – the woman I had successfully succeeded in avoiding for the entire journey up until now – and I would be lying cheek to cheek for an entire night. How on earth would I be able to avoid talking with her now? 

“I just want to let you know that I don’t snore, lovey. You can rest assured that I won’t be waking you up in the middle of the night, sawing logs. Now my husband Bill, may he rest in peace, that’s a whole other story. He snored so loud that the pictures on the wall used to rattle. But he was a heavy smoker my Bill. That man never went more than ten minutes without having a cigarette in his hands. But that’s how they did in them days, before we knew about the dangers of cigarette smoking and all. But the lung cancer finally got him in the end, may God rest his soul. He was a good man but he could really snore. I’ve had my share of medical problems too, I can tell you. I’ve had my right hip replaced and now I’m on the waiting list for the left one. But my doctor’s trying to get my blood pressure down before the surgery so he’s been trying me on some new medication. I don’t think it’s working though.”

I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep but it was hard to ignore the non-stop monologue that was going on two inches away from my ear. 

“Hazel, I think we should try to get a bit of sleep, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes lovey. I have a touch of insomnia though. Did I tell you that my doctor was trying me on some new medication and I think it might be causing my insomnia. I haven’t slept well since Bill passed and that’s gone on now ten years. My sister Doris comes to visit me from time to time but it’s the loneliness that gets to you, isn’t it? It’s nice to be able to have a chat from time to time with a nice young gal like you. Tell me a little bit about yourself? I’ll tell you all about my niece Sally…”

I don’t know if I got any sleep that night at all because when Hazel finally stopped talking and drifted off, she started snoring like a lumberjack. I don’t know if the pictures on the wall were rattling but I suspected that she would have been a match for Bill any day. I pulled my pillow around my head and wrapped my arms around it to absorb some of the noise but it didn’t help much. In the morning I would tell Hazel the good news. She was no longer suffering from insomnia but should I tell her about the snoring? There was no way to avoid having a conversation with her now and I imagined that we would be chatting for the rest of the two-hour bus ride to the city. It was unavoidable now that Hazel and I had shared this intimate time, side by side together. Intimate strangers, I thought to myself with a chuckle, although that sounded somewhat suggestive. But life is funny like that. Sometimes the thing you most want to avoid is the thing that suddenly, mysteriously lands on your lap, or in your bed, as the case might be.