Image by Torontovore~ via Torontoist Flickr Pool
[Being the second installment of Robert J Wiersema's original holiday tale of the ghostly and the miraculous. Read the first part here.]
“It’s gonna be a rough night.”
The voice startled Dustin, and he glanced up toward the front of the bus. His forehead was damp from where he had been pressing it against the window, watching the snow.
It took him a moment to put it together: the bus driver. That must have been him talking. And he must have been talking to Dustin: he had been the only person on the bus since Abbotsford, more than an hour before.
“I’m sorry, what?” he said loudly. He was only a few rows back, but the roar of the engine seemed to swallow up all other sound.
The driver’s eyes flickered in the mirror. “Rough night, I said. With the snow. We’re already an hour off schedule.”
Dustin stood up and, bracing himself on the backs of the seats, negotiated his way up the aisle, settling in behind the driver.
“I just heard from dispatch. They’re closing the highway through the Sumas Flats overnight.”
“Because of the snow?” From the front seat he could look out the windshield. In the headlights, the snow looked like an attack.
“Yup. We made it through just in time. Good thing you didn’t wait for the last bus.”
Dustin nodded and watched out the front window, mesmerized by the rush of white fire they seemed to be facing.
After a long silence the driver asked, “So where are you headed?”
Dustin looked at him, suddenly understanding: the driver was scared. He was the sort of man who, most of the time, wouldn’t spare an unnecessary word for a passenger, the kind of man who would seem taciturn or close to snapping all the time. Exactly what you’d expect from a bus driver.
But tonight, with the snow and the silence, he wanted to talk. He was uneasy enough to want to talk.
Dustin could do that.
“Henderson,” Dustin said slowly, but then he realized that the driver already knew that: he had his ticket in his vest to prove it. “I’m going out to my mom and dad’s place. For Christmas,” he added, unnecessarily.
“You’re running a little late.” The driver smiled in the mirror.
“It was a last minute thing. We don’t usually do Christmas together, so….” His voice trailed off. “For my mom it’s all about the Christmas dinner anyway. She makes a really big deal about being a good host. She invites…well, everyone. Family and friends, people she doesn’t really know who might be in need of a little Xmas cheer. That’s what she calls it: ex-mas cheer.”
“Small-town life,” the bus driver said, and Dustin couldn’t quite tell if he meant it admiringly or scornfully. “My wife – her folks are Austrian. For her, Christmas is Christmas Eve. That’s when the tree gets unveiled, and the presents magically appear. It’s all about the kids and the magic with her.”
“You’re gonna be late,” Dustin said, trying for joviality.
The bus driver shook his head. “I haven’t been…invited…the last few years. I’ll spend tomorrow driving, then I’ve got Boxing Day with the kids.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dustin said.
The driver shrugged. “It’s probably for the best. People grow apart, you know? Are you married?”
Dustin thought of Stan, his green eyes, his hands. He couldn’t reconcile that image with what the driver had said about people growing apart. Maybe they just hadn’t had enough time. Maybe if they had been able to grow old together, that might have been a concern. But Dustin didn’t think so. And they’d never had a chance to find out.
“No,” he said simply, thinking of how frail Stan’s hand had felt in his, how light, almost weightless, at the end.
“That’s not a bad thing,” the driver said, and made a sound that might have been chuckling.
“How many kids do you have?”
“Two. A boy and a girl. I’ll give them a call when I get back into the city if it’s not too late. Wish them a merry merry.”
“You’re driving back tonight?”
“Well, that was the plan. My car’s at the garage, and I’ve got to get the bus back. But with this….” The snow was almost a wall of white. “I might be spending the night in Henderson.”
Dustin didn’t know what to say. He felt like he should make some kind of offer, tell the driver that there was plenty of room at his parents’ house and that he’d be more than welcome, but he couldn’t quite form the words. His mother was the good host: apparently it skipped a generation.
“And just like that,” the driver said, with a flair. “Henderson.”
Dustin had been so focused on talking with the driver, and the white heaving mass of snow through the windshield, that he hadn’t noticed the world around the bus.
The driver pulled to a stop under a streetlight, and Dustin recognized the outline of the building that used to be Doctor Simon’s office, though it now had a sign that read “Rainbow’s End Herbal”.
He was a little flustered, a little disconcerted. Somehow he hadn’t even noticed them crossing the river, the bridge, or the sign in the shape of an ear of corn that said “Welcome to Henderson.” He felt like he hadn’t had time to prepare himself, that he had been dropped into the situation without sufficient warning.
“Your stop,” the driver said, popping the seal on the door. “End of the line.”
Dustin smiled.
“Are you okay here?” The driver asked. “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone waiting for you.”
“It’s all right. It’s a short walk.”
Dustin stood up and, stepping back a couple of rows, retrieved his knapsack from the overhead rack.
“In this weather?”
There was concern in the driver’s voice. Every other time he had ridden the bus – and there had been a number of those times – he had come away with the distinct impression that the drivers couldn’t care less about anything other than keeping to their schedules.
“It’s not far.”
He stepped down onto the top step. “So are you going to try to motel, or…”
The driver shook his head. “I should be fine getting back,” he said. “I figure if I stick to the north side of the river, take it nice and slow, I’ll be back at the garage in time to catch some shut-eye.”
“Are you sure?” Dustin asked. “Because I’m sure my folks….”
The driver smiled. “Thanks for the offer, but no, I’ll head back. It’s too much of a headache if I have to weather over. Messes with too many schedules. But I do appreciate the thought.”
Dustin nodded. He wouldn’t have stayed either. “Okay then,” he said, stepping down another step. The wind cut in through the open door. “Drive carefully.
The driver looked at him as if he was going to start laughing. “That’s my motto,” he said. “You have a merry Christmas.”
“You too,” Dustin said as he stepped off the bus onto the hard-packed snow of the sidewalk.
The driver nodded sharply and the bus doors closed with a pneumatic thunk. With a roar and a blast of diesel and steam the bus pulled away.
Moments later, Dustin was standing alone in the silence under a streetlamp, snow filling the silver cone of light with diamonds and stars.
[Read the third part of "Just Like the Ones He Used to Know"]
