Fiction

Waiting for the bus

Photo by Sultan Raimosan on Pexels.com

She sat on the fence looking over the main street. From here, she could see a little bit of the bus station. There was no other way to get to town besides driving and taking a bus. Jim wouldn’t have a car. She was the one dropping him off when he left 2 years ago. When Jim came into town, he would have to take the bus. Where she was sitting was the best seat in the house to keep an eye on the bus station.

“Hey,” a voice came from behind with a tap on the shoulder. She startled.

“Oh my god. Doc, don’t scare me like that!” She let out a sigh of relief, realizing it was just her family good old vet.

“Still waiting huh?” he lighted a cigarette and motioned to ask her if she wanted one. She shook her head.

“The bus was a little late today. Should have came already.”

“Fern, honey” the vet hesitated, “do you still think he will come back?”

“Yeah, I do.” She could hear her own voice light as a feather. “He will be here any day now.”

The vet took a drag from his cigarette, “Fern, the war ended a while ago. Even the last few Americans were taken out of there in April. You don’t think…”

“He said he would be home for my birthday this year,” she cut him off. Her eyes didn’t move from the bus station, “he still have some time. You knew Jim, he’s a man of his words.”

“Fern…” the vet moaned

“As long as,” her voice was shaking “nobody brought me any notice. I can still wait.”

The vet didn’t say anything else. He put his cowboy hat on and leaned onto the fence. He smoked slowly while looking at the same direction Fern did. The sun started to set over the horizon. The dark orange shade of sunset covered the town with a deep sense of nostalgia. Another day was soon to be over.

The wind blew by and she could smell the diesel in the air. The bus was arriving.