Morning Train Bus

I always get a seat as I get on at the very beginning of the route and there aren’t that many people yet. It’s usually me and 2 or 3 other women, now and again a few students from one (or more) of the several high schools along the route.

The regular riders usually have a regular routine, a regular seat. I like to sit in the bench-style seats, with my back to the window, facing the aisle, across from the rear door. Once settled in, I pull out my book, adjust the volume on the music player and hope today’s ride is adventure-free, or at least adventure-less.

Somewhere between Cicero and Pulaski, between Prince’s Peach and Anna Nalick’s Wreck of the Day, just as I’m reading about Faye finding a dead man in the tub, I hear…a distinct, insistent noise. I realize the noise is someone talking, no…not talking, calling. Miss MISS I then realize the miss is being directed at me.

Oh. Now. What?

I take my mind and eyes away from Faye’s exploits, look in the direction of Mr. Insistent, the question written on my face, “what?” He answers with his own question, “Are You Rose?” Oh, for the love of Susan! I shake, no. Again he asks, “Are YOU Rose?” Harder shake, NO. He persists, “do you know Rose?” While shaking my head no, I reach for the volume, trying to return my attention to Faye and her dead body find, and trying not to guess as to how the db fits into the case she’s investigating.

Though I couldn’t quite hear what Mr. Insistent was saying through-out the rest of his ride, I could hear him speaking. The collective sigh of relief upon his exit told me that the other passengers had been less than thrilled with his . . . contributions.

I hope he found his Rose, whoever, wherever she might be.