Intimate Strangers

It was a morning like any other. After pushing the snooze button twice, I got out of bed and jumped into the shower. I let the steam and warm soapy water bring me back to life and even splurged on a couple of drops of lavender to wake up my senses. I got a fresh towel from the rack and lavished my dry skin with some rose fragranced olive oil. I brushed my teeth and applied moisturizer to my face. It was a morning like any other, but no amount of lavender oil or rose cream could relieve me of this feeling that something dark was brewing. 

The weather warning came later in the morning as I was still eating my breakfast and finishing the last drops of my cup of coffee. I had to drive into the city that day, but I was a little nervous about the snow and high winds that they were predicting. Usually, it was an easy three-hour drive, but it could take a lot longer in these conditions. 

“Why don’t you take the bus,” my sister Claire suggested. “It will get you there safe and sound, and you won’t have to white knuckle it for the next three hours. Instead, you can snooze, get some work done, read a book…way more relaxing.”

Although I don’t always follow Claire’s advice, I decided that this was not a bad idea. Living in the country has its share of challenges, and the weather is one of them. Buses run pretty frequently and I was able to get a ticket and even managed to get a window seat.

I settled myself in and slowly started to relax not worrying about the conditions getting worse. My premonition had come true – the weather was terrible – but I was happy that a simple solution like taking the bus would solve the problem.  I was also praying silently that the seat beside me wouldn’t get taken and that I might enjoy a blissfully peaceful ride without anyone chattering in my ear. 

That was always a risk when travelling alone, that some gregarious stranger might plunk themselves beside you and proceed to tell you their life story. I always smiled politely and then put on my eye mask and headphones and pretended to sleep to avoid having to engage. 

Sometime later, we pulled into the next stop, and there was quite a big crowd waiting to get on. 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 onto the seat between us. 

“There never seems to be enough room on these buses for your items,” she said. 

I smiled at her but kept to my rule: 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.”

I smiled again and pointed to my headphones, slipped my eyes mask on and closed my eyes. Finally, with great relief, I saw out of the corner of my eye that she got the message. 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 had 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. 

“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 Nancy,” I replied, no longer able to hide behind my headphones. After what seemed like ages, the driver finally got back onto the bus. 

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

It took us about an hour to travel the 10 kilometres back to town. When we finally arrived, there was a small group of people huddled inside Bert’s Café. 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. 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? 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. 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 the kind-faced Mr. Dale helped carry Hazel’s bag, and I ended up holding onto her arm to steady her. Mrs. Dale was waiting for us with tea and biscuits hot out of the oven. 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 refreshments, 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 avoided for the entire journey 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 want to let you know that I don’t snore, lovey. So, 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 mouth. But that’s how they did in those 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 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. It’s nice 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. 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 conversing with her now, and I imagined that we would be chatting for the rest of the two-hour bus trip to the city. I hadn’t anticipated any of this yesterday morning when I woke up with my bad feeling but, all in all, it had actually turned out okay.   

“Hurry up dear, “Hazel urged grabbing me by the arm. “We’d better get a move on if we want to make sure we get seats together. I still haven’t told you about my nephew Sam.