Staring around at all of the silent bodies around me, I dropped my eyes to the floor.
The bus was a nocturnal creature with mute cargo. It moved slowly, illuminated by passing street lights, in a darkening world.
A man sneezed.
“Bless you,” I responded automatically, having been taught manners. Everyone else stayed silent.
“Thank you,” the middle-aged businessman said, clutching his briefcase tighter to his knees.
More silence. My cellphone vibrated, and I answered, “Hello?”
When Ruth approached me on public transit, her eyes were determined. Her eyelids donned a light dusting of blue eyeshadow. She wore a black pencil skirt with waterproof black boots.
“I’ll meet you at the corner store,” his voice said over the phone.
“Okay. Almost there,” I agreed, watching out the window as the bus pulled and lurched from stop to stop.
“Good,” he breathed back, “I’m —”
“–Excuse me, but how do you get your hair so shiny?” Ruth asked.
Slightly bewildered, I turned and found a sprightly elderly woman sitting next to me.
“Hold on a sec,” I said into the phone and turned toward her.
“I was sitting across from you and couldn’t help but admire your hair,” she added, encouragingly, waiting for an answer.
“Ummm, thank you…I don’t know…I don’t pay attention to it…I just put some mousse in….” I finished lamely.
“Ooh! Which brand?” she said excitedly.
“Garnier Fructisse,” I respond, quirking an eyebrow.
“Is it expensive?” she asked back, her voice eager and tinged with curiosity.
“A little over $3.00,” I estimated, flinching as I heard my boyfriend’s disembodied voice talking into the phone, asking who I was conversing with.
“My name is Ruth,” she introduced herself, “I was born on March 1st. I will be 73 years old. And I’m a Pisces.”
“Hello, Ruth,” I grinned slightly, “My name is Rae. My birthday passed a few months ago, but I turned 23. I am a Libra.”
I picture this stranger as she starts calculating her finances in her head. I almost want to give her $3.00 so she can go to the store and buy herself some mousse. I want her to feel beautiful, but she seems like a woman with a personal image and dignity to maintain. She would never accept loose change from the likes of me.
“Are you Jewish?” she asked suddenly, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
“No–” I began to answer, but she abruptly walked toward the front.
Her stop was coming up.
“What’s the brand again?” she yelled over her shoulder, as she exited.
“Garnier,” I called after her, “The bottle is bright neon green.”
Ruth nodded, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
As I retold the tale to my friend, he commented, “You know – I don’t talk to strangers on public transportation. I put in headphones. I keep my eyes safely averted to the window.”
“I couldn’t just ignore her,” I said.
Plus, it was nice to actually make a connection in such an aloof, but tightly packed world.
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