{"id":213,"date":"2022-02-22T13:48:31","date_gmt":"2022-02-22T13:48:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/?page_id=213"},"modified":"2022-06-29T15:49:43","modified_gmt":"2022-06-29T15:49:43","slug":"the-bus-station","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/?page_id=213","title":{"rendered":"The Bus Station"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Lily sat in the bus terminal waiting for her bus to be called. She looked down at her left hand, at the long thin line that ran across the palm, the scar from when Jeff had sliced her with a kitchen knife for forgetting to put mustard on his sandwich, causing him to have to do it himself and missing the winning touchdown on the tv. It didn\u2019t matter that he saw the touchdown one minute later on instant replay. He had missed the actual moment, so Lily had to be punished. Lily had had to be punished often in the last five years. Jeff\u2019s favorite shirt was in the wash when he wanted to wear it or Lily had overcooked the chicken. Sometimes, Jeff punished Lily for things that weren\u2019t even her doing. Jeff hadn\u2019t gotten a promotion or had missed a deadline or had lost money at the racetrack. Lily often ran her right index finger along the scar when she was nervous or when she was trying to think. She didn\u2019t do that now. She wasn\u2019t nervous, not anymore. And she didn\u2019t need to think, because she had decided. Lily didn\u2019t know what finally snapped her into action. She didn\u2019t know which was the last straw. Lily just woke up this morning and knew that today was the day. She was getting on the bus and she wasn\u2019t coming back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lily stood up. \u201cI\u2019m bored. Is there a place to get coffee around here? I think you should put a Starbucks in the corner over there,\u201d she said, pointing.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What are you doing? Sit down. It is not supposed to be boring. You just left an abusive husband. You should be scared and excited and relieved and a thousand other things, but not bored.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, what can I say? I\u2019m not really feeling it,\u201d Lily said, \u201cI\u2019m leaving. What about that guy? The one three seats over with the mahogany box on his lap. That looks like cremains. Write about him.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

James sat holding a wooden box on his lap. He was still in shock. His mother had died suddenly in Boston and he had gone to collect her ashes to bring home to Ohio. He and his mother had always had a complicated relationship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, we didn\u2019t,\u201d interrupted James. \u201cWe had a perfectly normal relationship.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Okay. Then how about if you find out at the funeral that your mom was a spy in World War Two?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy mom was 5 years old in 1945.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Okay, your grandmother, then.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy grandmother had a baby in 1940. My mother, remember? In Toledo. How is she a spy?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t know! She had German ancestors. She was sending information that she picked up to her Nazi cousins.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere were no military bases anywhere near Toledo during WWII. Also, I\u2019m leaving. You\u2019ve insulted my family. My grandmother was not a Nazi!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I can\u2019t insult you or your family. You\u2019re fictional. Come back here!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As James strode away, he had to dodge a six-year-old who was on the floor with a small toy car. The boy was pushing the car around an invisible track, making vroom noises. An eight-year-old sat nearby, reading Dr. Seuss to a two- and a four-year-old. The mother was busy rummaging through a large tote bag and handing plastic bags of animal crackers to a ten-year-old. The mother looked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you even think about it! I got enough to do without you sending me off on adventures. No way, sister!\u201d she said.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pleeeeeaaaaase!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNope! I am tired. I don\u2019t have the time or the energy. Go bother that obviously single woman under the clock.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman stood up, collected all her children and hurried from the station.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Under the clock, Linda stood, checking her watch. She had planned this vacation for months. Two entire weeks in a cabin in the woods of Maine. No bar code scanners beeping constantly. The absence of rude customers being angry at her because the peaches aren\u2019t ripe. No break room smelling of cigarette smoke because the obnoxious smokers stand directly outside the door and all their smoke blows back into the building. Two weeks of swimming in the lake, reading in the shade, walking in the woods. Heaven! She smiled in anticipation. Little did she know what mayhem was in store for her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo way! Nuh-uh. No mayhem! I need this vacation. I need peace. Don\u2019t you dare drop mayhem into my life,\u201d Linda said.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Look, you\u2019re the only person left in here.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat about that guy?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What guy? There\u2019s no guy.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight there. See him? Really expensive suit. Probably very rich.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

No. We\u2019re in a bus station. What\u2019s a rich guy in an expensive suit doing in a bus station?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExactly!\u201d said Linda, \u201cThat\u2019s the story. What\u2019s he doing here?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nothing, because he doesn\u2019t exist.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNone of us exist,\u201d said Linda. \u201cGet a grip.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d much rather write a nice thriller set in the woods in Maine. You can be the heroine.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo. I don\u2019t want to be the heroine. I want to sit around and read romance novels for two weeks. Look at the guy! He\u2019s intriguing. He\u2019s wearing bespoke shoes! Figure out why he\u2019s here.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019s apparently a figment of your imagination, so why don\u2019t you tell me?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s an alien from a faraway planet! That\u2019s why he looks out of place. He doesn\u2019t know that his clothes don\u2019t match his surroundings.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t write science fiction.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cToday is a good day to start!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

No.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a ghost, and this is where his home used to be in 1867.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought his suit was modern?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow it\u2019s Victorian. Just go with it.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yeah, I don\u2019t write ghost stories, either.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, I don\u2019t think you should be so picky, seeing as you\u2019re the one with the writer\u2019s block.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Linda turned her head to better hear the announcement over the intercom. Her bus to Moosehead had just been called. She picked up her suitcase and walked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m off to Maine!\u201d Linda said, \u201cSee ya!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m going to go walk the dog. Have a pleasant ride up there. When I get back from my walk, I\u2019ll meet you in Maine for murder and mayhem.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDamn!\u201d said Linda.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a9 2018 Liza Cameron Wasser<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Lily sat in the bus terminal waiting for her bus to be called. She looked down at her left hand, at the long thin line that ran across the palm, the scar from when Jeff had sliced her with a kitchen knife for forgetting to … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-213","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/213","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=213"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/213\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":362,"href":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/213\/revisions\/362"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.lizacameronwasser.de\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=213"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}