A blue street sign saying Mandela Avenue is barely visible through the mud-splattered bus window. Where\u2019s Mandela Avenue? That\u2019s not on your regular route to work. But then you remember, you\u2019re not on the bus to work. You\u2019re coming home from the field hospital, by yourself, because the fugue took Sierra, your stepmom, on the first pass, and your Dad\u2019s still in the hospital in the final stages of the pneumonia called prescience that that claims so many survivors of the fever. He begged you to \u201cGo home, while you still have one.\u201d <\/p>\n
Clarity is one of the last symptoms of prescience and this morning your dad was almost preternaturally wiser than you can remember him ever being. After days in a babbling sweat \u2013 reliving all the mistakes and miscalculations he had made growing up and all his failures as a parent, he\u2019d lapsed into full blown remorse. <\/p>\n
You\u2019d heard all these apologies before: the \u201cI\u2019m-sorry-I-wasn\u2019t-there-to-help-you-through-your-teens\u201d spiel; the \u201cI-only-survived-my-own-teens-by-chance\u201d rationale; the \u201cIf-I-had-lived-with-your-Mom-any-longer-I-would-have-killed-her\u201d defense. But this time was more poignant because you could tell from the look in his eyes that he finally did understand how you felt about it all. And you knew how sorry he really was. If you still cared the way you once did, it would have broken your heart when he said \u201cIt was always my hope that you\u2019d come and live with me. You know I\u2019m not lying.\u201d And you have always known. And it means nothing. Sorry, Dad.<\/p>\n
You held the water bottle to his lips with shaking hands one last time. He never noticed, which was a relief of sorts, because he also never noticed when you left him in an army tent in the field behind Central Elementary \u2013 still in the grips of the unforgiving truth.<\/p>\n
Time to go home.<\/p>\n
Its fugue house status will keep squatters out, you know, but thieves or soldiers or bureaucrats will ultimately find a way past all your locks and security systems to take everything you consider your own. And they\u2019d go into your house with their hazmat suits and gas masks and surgical masks and cat burglar clothes and they\u2019d steal all your valuables \u2013 the markers of your life right down to your photos and your books and video games. And since it is a fugue house, they might even burn it down when they\u2019re done. <\/p>\n
So you\u2019re jouncing down the potholed street, going home \u2013 if you can remember the way. The fugue still has its emotional hooks in you, so it can be hard to focus.<\/p>\n
The LED display behind the driver says Kiwanas Place, which is no more familiar to you than Mandela Avenue. To top it all off, the recorded voice says, \u201cNext stop, Tyrell Road.\u201d <\/p>\n
What the fuck bus are you on? In fact, what city are you in? You thought the Dominion bus went straight to Mount Newcombe. But as you look out the window into an unfamiliar parkette, you decide to check with the driver. After an awkward aisle dance with a big Tamil guy in an afro, you squeeze past a pram, a thick-whiskered-man in a long billed baseball cap and a trio of new-to-the-workforce Asian girls in primary colored suits. And when you\u2019re almost at the front of the bus, an old man reaches out from the bench seats and grabs your arm as you go past. You look down, surprised to see your grade 12 English teacher.<\/p>\n
\u201cKasey?\u201d he says, shaking your hand. \u201cIt\u2019s been what? Three years? What have you been doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Olthius. Hi.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s Dean,\u201d he reminds you and you smile at the memory of him insisting you call him by his first name back in school \u2013 the first of your high school teachers to do that. His formerly ruddy cheeks have become pale and veiny. The loose skin on his neck suggests that he has lost weight.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you still painting?\u201d he asks. You\u2019re as impressed and amazed he remembers you paint as you are embarrassed you haven\u2019t been doing any. <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Dean,\u201d you say. \u201cI was just going to ask the bus driver what bus we\u2019re on. This is the 34A, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dean shakes his head. \u201c34E.\u201d He snickers and nods. \u201cI feel lost like that alla time. It\u2019ll be alright. The bus turned off of Dominion at Milestone Mall. That was a few stops back. Long walk, but maybe better than staying on the bus until it comes full circle?\u201d He squeezes past you. \u201cAnyway, this is my stop.\u201d
\nYou are not feeling up to a long walk. As the door opens, you ask the driver, \u201cHow long does it take to do the whole circuit?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cForty minutes back to the subway,\u201d With his round Hispanic face and thin white mustache, he reminds you of your Uncle Fred. He tears off a transfer. \u201cBut the bus coming the other way should be here any time. It will only take you five minutes to get back from here.\u201d <\/p>\n
For the first time, you notice a shopping bag on the floor where Dean was sitting \u2013 a shiny red bag with cord handles. You peek inside as you lift it up. The contents include a computer tablet and a couple paperback books. On closer inspection you see that it\u2019s a story anthology with Dean listed on the cover as one of the contributors. <\/p>\n
\u201cAre you getting out, the bus driver urges.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, thanks,\u201d Clutching the bag to your chest you step out, foot hitting the sidewalk, just as Dean turns a corner onto a side street. You run to catch up, but by the time you get there, he\u2019s gone. <\/p>\n
\u201cDean,\u201d you shout, but no-one responds.<\/p>\n
You look at the transfer thinking I have ten minutes and then you follow him. <\/p>\n
He goes into a shop at the end of the block.<\/p>\n
You follow.<\/p>\n
The shops along this street are Tudor styled and brightly trimmed \u2013 quaint and twee compared to the fast food joints and boarded up tavern on the main street. There\u2019s a confectioner, a bookstore, a men\u2019s clothing store and a barber shop with an old candy cane style barber pole. At the end of the block is a store with a hand painted sign saying Memorabilia. You see Dean through the window and go inside. A little bell jangles as you enter. <\/p>\n
\u201cGlad I caught you,\u201d you say to Dean.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry?\u201d he replies. \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou forgot your bag on the bus.\u201d<\/p>\n
He says, \u201cThat\u2019s not my bag.\u201d<\/p>\n
You aren\u2019t sure how to respond, so you stand there for a couple beats before remembering the contents. The book with his name on it. You pull it out.
\n\u201cIsn\u2019t this you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I\u2019ll be damned. Where did you get this? I have one in the store just like it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019m telling you. This is yours.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy did you bring this to me? Are you rubbing it in?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat I survived and nobody else did? That I\u2019m completely fucking alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m standing right in front of you. You recognized me on the bus a few minutes ago. You even remember that I used to paint.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUsed to? Oh,\u201d he smiles apologetically. \u201cYou should start again. I\u2019m sure paint supplies are cheap these days. It\u2019s Dean, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
This is getting complicated you think, wondering if you should even bother correcting him. But you do. \u201cI\u2019m Kasey. You\u2019re Dean.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughs out loud and for an instant you\u2019re certain he\u2019s just jerking you around. But the look in his eyes says otherwise. \u201cSounds like the punch line to a joke, don\u2019t you think?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d you say because you can\u2019t think of anything else to say. It\u2019s time to extract yourself from this awkward situation. \u201cWell it was nice seeing you.\u201d
\n\u201cThank you for going to all this trouble, young man. You people don\u2019t usually follow me all the way here.\u201d<\/p>\n
You back away smiling. \u201cAll the best, really. And congratulations on being published in that book.\u201d<\/p>\n
You nod at the book he\u2019s holding and then you see what he has in the other hand \u2013 an old magazine that\u2019s in truly pristine condition. National Lampoon. You\u2019ve heard of it from those old movies but didn\u2019t realize it was once an actual magazine. And on the racks all around it are displays of other magazines, with names like Look and Argosy and True Detective. As you gaze around the store, you realize what a wonderful vintage atmosphere they\u2019ve created in here \u2013 it\u2019s like a museum display from the 1970s. You\u2019ll need to remember how you got here, so you can bring some friends. Sweeny would freak out about those old comic books.<\/p>\n
Dean has wandered deeper into the store without a goodbye. Catching glimpses of him down each aisle, you call out but he does not stop or turn around. Back out on the street you start walking back up the hill thinking, I\u2019ve almost certainly missed that bus. <\/p>\n
There\u2019s a record store with albums you remember from Dad\u2019s collection\u2013Blue Cheer, 13th Floor Elevators, Obsidian Planet, Amon Duul. Really old stuff.
\nAnd right near the top of the hill, there\u2019s the store with the My Little Pony and the He-Man toys. <\/p>\n
In a shop window at the top of the hill you see two Pokemon cards that must have come out after you stopped collecting them. It makes you smile. You emerge from the row of retro shops just as the 94E pulls up. And you root in your pocket for a token, transferring your bag from one hand to the other. You stop and stare at the red shopping bag, thinking, didn\u2019t I give that back? <\/p>\n
\u201cYou alright?\u201d asks the bus driver. The way he lifts an eyebrow as if to ask if you\u2019re coming on board reminds you of an uncle you haven\u2019t seen in years. Uncle Fred. <\/p>\n
\u201cI meant to get on the 94A.\u201d you say.<\/p>\n
You step up and the bus doors close behind you.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry,\u201d says the bus driver. \u201cYou missed that bus years ago. But you can ride with me wherever you want.\u201d<\/p>\n
You take a seat across from the bus driver and rub your face. Something feels wrong. You lift your head to say something and see someone you know coming up the aisle from the back of the bus and you grab their arm. \u201cKasey?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A blue street sign saying Mandela Avenue is barely visible through the mud-splattered bus window. Where\u2019s Mandela Avenue? That\u2019s not on your regular route to work. But then you remember, you\u2019re not on the bus to work. You\u2019re coming home from the field hospital, by yourself, because the fugue took Sierra, your stepmom, on the …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":16632,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-36773","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36773","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/16632"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=36773"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36773\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139552,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36773\/revisions\/139552"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=36773"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=36773"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=36773"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}