Conversations on a bus
The bus was empty so we could sit wherever we wanted. The lovers sat in the back, perhaps to give each other the last caresses. The old man sat near the driver and the girl and I sat in the same row of seats, she behind me. The ride from downtown to my house was long, so I settled into the seat and looked out the window: the desolate, littered space resembled the end of a party.
With my eyes closed, I heard the voice of the girl talking on the phone:
Hello, Ana, how are you? Friend, can you welcome me at your house?
When I heard those words, I was curious and slowly sat up to pay attention to what she was saying:
Pedro was arrested and my mother threw me out of the house," I turned to look at the girl. The light inside the bus was poor, but I thought I saw a young woman about 18 years old, maybe younger. Her face was hidden in the gloom, the cell phone and the child sleeping on her shoulder. The girl continued her story, unaware that other passengers were on the bus and could hear her conversation:
_Yes. You know that he had his business in the house and that mom had lent him money. But since last week, mom was asking him to pay her back and he told her that by next month because all the profit had been used to buy more merchandise.
The driver looked in the rearview mirror: apparently he was also listening to what the girl was saying:
_Well, today the police came and said that the merchandise was illegal.
Those last words were uttered in a whisper, barely audible to me.
My contemplation was halted by the old man calling for the stop. The bus stopped and the old man had difficulty getting up. In a brief moment, the young woman was no longer the center of everyone's observation and we turned our attention to helping the gentleman off.
The bus started up again and entered a dark area, full of nooks and crannies. The bus jumped with every obstacle encountered. Suddenly the young woman asked the driver to stop. She got up in a hurry, walked past me quickly and I could see her clearly: she would be about 15 years old.
After she got off, the driver and I exchanged glances: he shook his head negatively, I also made another gesture of helplessness.At that moment I had so many questions: Why was the merchandise illegal and why had her mother thrown her out on the street? Also, would her friend have given her shelter at that time? Even today, every time I pass by that area, when the bus takes me home, I wonder what happened to that girl, who, even though she was still a child, had a very heavy burden.
All images are free (Pixabay) and the text was translated on Deepl
Thank you for reading and commenting. Until a next story, friends
Click here to read in spanish
Conversaciones en un autobús
Eran las 8 de la noche y yo esperaba el último autobús que iba a mi casa. Regresaba de una clase que se había realizado en la Casa Ramos Sucre y la ciudad era una lámpara que apenas proyectaba una tenue luz. En la parada, parecíamos sombras silenciosas pegadas a la pared, pacientes, con la cabeza baja, vencidos por el trajinar del día. Allí estaban una pareja de enamorados, una muchacha con un niño en brazos, un anciano y yo. A las 8 y 20 nos montamos todos.
El autobús venía vacío por lo que pudimos sentarnos en donde quisiéramos. Los enamorados se sentaron en la parte de atrás, tal vez para darse las últimas caricias. El anciano se sentó cerca del chofer y la chica y yo nos sentamos en la misma hilera de asientos, ella detrás mí. El viaje del centro a mi casa era largo, por lo que me acomodé en el asiento y miré a través de la ventana: el espacio desolado y lleno de basura se asemejaba al final de una fiesta.
Con los ojos cerrados, escuché la voz de la muchacha que hablaba por teléfono:
_Aló, ¿Ana? ¿Cómo estás? ¿Amiga, será que tú puedes recibirme en tu casa?
Cuando escuché esas palabras, sentí curiosidad y lentamente me incorporé en el asiento para prestar atención a lo que decía:
_A Pedro lo metieron preso y mamá me echó de la casa -disimuladamente volteé a ver a la chica. La luz dentro del autobús era deficiente, pero creí ver una joven de unos 18 años, tal vez menos. Su rostro se ocultaba entre la penumbra, el celular y el niño que dormía en su hombro. La muchacha continuó su relato, ignorando que otros pasajeros iban en el autobús y que podían escuchar su conversación:
_Sí. Tú sabes que él tenía su negocio en la casa y que mamá le había prestado dinero. Pero desde la semana pasada, mamá le estaba pidiendo que le devolviera el dinero y él le dijo que para el mes que viene porque toda la ganancia la había utilizado para comprar más mercancía.
El chofer miró por el espejo retrovisor: por lo visto él también estaba escuchando lo que la muchacha decía:
_Bueno, hoy llegó la policía y dijo que la mercancía era ilegal.
Aquellas últimas palabras fueron pronunciadas en un susurro, apenas audibles para mí.
Después de eso, la muchacha guardó silencio. Evidentemente, la otra persona hablaba con ella. Volví a voltear mi rostro disimuladamente y vi que la joven miraba también a través de la ventana sucia, como desentrañando un misterio que le había puesto la vida. Tenía el ceño fruncido y algo parecido a la preocupación bailaba en su rostro.
Mi contemplación fue detenida por el anciano que pidió la parada. El autobús se detuvo y el anciano tuvo dificultad para levantarse. En un breve instante, la joven dejó de ser el centro de observación de todos y nos dedicamos a ayudar a bajar al señor.
El autobús arrancó nuevamente y se adentró en una zona oscura, llena de recovecos. El autobús saltaba con cada obstáculo encontrado. De repente la joven pidió al chófer que se detuviera. Ella se levantó de prisa, pasó por mi lado rápidamente y pude verla claramente: tendría como 15 años.
Después que ella se bajó, el chofer y yo intercambiamos miradas: él hizo un movimiento negativo en la cabeza, yo también hice otro gesto de impotencia. Todavía, cada vez que paso por esa zona, cuando el autobús me lleva a casa, me preguntó qué habrá pasado con aquella chica, que aun siendo todavía una niña, tenía una carga muy pesada.
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It is hard what we sometimes have to see or hear while riding the bus. Excellent way to approach this week's topic. Best regards.
Those of us who use public transportation have thousands of stories to tell. Thank you for your comments!
Your regret over this horrifying incident is more than apparent. However, you were not actually in a position to interfere. The desolation of the scene and the possibilities that the young woman faced have lived with you in the most disturbing way. You create an excellent visualisation of the despair with your creatively rich writing.
There are so many misfortunes around us that it is difficult to be insensitive to such things. Greetings and thanks for the comment!
An interesting story, they are life stories that show the consequences of decisions in a brutally cold society.
Thanks for sharing.
Good day.
Sometimes I think the big problem with everything is the lack of education. Thank you for reading! Regards
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Gracias por esa buena información!
De nada @nancybriti1, excelente trabajo. 👍
Esperamos recibir su apoyo para nuestra propuesta. 🙂⏳
I am too wondering about the relationship she had with Pedro for her mother to throw her out because of him. I wonder what might have happened next in her life.
I feel your helplessness towards the girl and I feel her sadness and confusion. I hope and wish her friend lent her a hand.