第76章FlowersOnTheBus

第76章flowersonthebus

wewereaverymotleycrowdofpeoplewhotookthebuseverydaythatsummer3yearsago.duringtheearlymorningridefromthesuburb,wesatdrowsilywithourcollarsuptoourears,acheerlessandtaciturnbunch.

oneofthepassengerswasasmallgraymanwhotookthebustothecenterforseniorcitizenseverymorning.hewalkedwithastoopandasadlookonhisfacewhenhe,withsomedifficulty,boardedthebusandsatdownalonebehindthedriver.nooneeverpaidverymuchattentiontohim.

thenonejulymorninghesaidgoodmorningtothedriverandsmiledshort-sightedlydownthroughthebusbeforehesatdown.thedrivernoddedguardedly.therestofusweresilent.

thenextday,theoldmanboardedthebusenergetically,smiledandsaidinaloudvoice:“andaverygoodmorningtoyouall!”someofuslookedup,amazed,andmurmured“goodmorning”inreply.

thefollowingweeksweweremorealert.ourfriendwasnowdressedinaniceoldsuitandawideout-of-datetie.thethinhairhadbeencarefullycombed.hesaidgoodmorningtouseverydayandwegraduallybegantonodandtalktoeachother.

onemorninghehadabunchofwildflowersinhishand.theywerealreadydanglingalittlebecauseoftheheat.thedriverturnedaroundsmilinglyandasked:“haveyougotyourselfagirlfriend,charlie?”wenevergottoknowifhisnamereallywas“charlie”,buthenoddedshylyandsaidyes.

theotherpassengerswhistledandclappedathim.charliebowedandwavedtheflowersbeforehesatdownonhisseat.

everymorningafterthatcharliealwaysbroughtaflower.someoftheregularpassengersbeganbringinghimflowersforhisbouquet,gentlypushedhimandsaidshyly:“here.”everyonesmiled.themenstartedtojokeaboutit,talktoeachother,andsharethenewspaper.

thesummerwentby,andautumnwasclosingin,whenonemorningcharliewasn'twaitingathisusualstop.whenhewasn'ttherethenextdayandthedayalterthat,westartedwonderingifhewassickorhopefullyonholidaysomewhere.

whenwecamenearertothecenterforseniorcitizens,oneofthepassengersaskedthedrivertowait.weallheldourbreathswhenshewenttothedoor.“yes,thestaffsaid,theyknewwhoweweretalkingabout.theelderlygentlemanwasfine,buthehadn'tbeencomingtothecenterthatweek.oneofhisveryclosefriendshaddiedattheweekend.theyexpectedhimbackonmonday.”howsilentweweretherestofthewaytowork.

thenextmondaycharliewaswaitingatthestop,stoopingabitmore,alittlebitmoregray,andwithoutatie.heseemedtohaveshrinkedagain.insidethebuswasasilencelikethatinachurch.eventhoughnoonehadtalkedaboutit,allthoseofus,whohehadmadesuchanimpressiononthatsummer,satwithoureyesfilledwithtearsandabunchofwildflowersinourhands.