Miss. Pennsylvania stumbled onto stage, staring up at the spotlights like a deer in the headlights. Taking the microphone, she laughed awkwardly and said, “Oh wow, I don’t know where those girls pulled those stories from! Oh my gosh….” She looked back into the wings. “Good job, ladies!” Scattered chuckles. Miss. Pennsylvania uneasily faced the crowd again and wrapped her free arm around her waist. “This isn’t much of a story…I mean, it’s…it’s real, though, and from Pennsylvania, so…um, I hope you enjoy.” She took a deep breath and began.
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It wasn’t many years ago, maybe 2017 or 2018, when I was on the bus with–a pretty full bus. There were women with children and some elderly folks, and across from me sat two men. Two middle aged white men, both casually dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I think the larger of the two was wearing some goofy graphic tee, and the smaller was wearing a Hawaiian shirt.
Anyway, the bus is quiet, and then the Hawaiian-shirt-man’s phone rings and he answers it.
Pause. “Hi, Lucy! How are ya?” Pause. “Aww, thank you so much! I wish I was home with you guys, too. We can celebrate Father’s Day when I get home–Father’s Day on Tuesday, ha!” Oh, right, it was Father’s Day. Anyway, there was another long pause. “Oh, honey, thank you so much. I’m so lucky I get to be your father, too.” Pause.
By this point I’m almost tuning him out–just reading my kindle–but out of the corner of my eye, I notice the woman beside me staring across the aisle. I look up, and I see that the man in the graphic tee is crying.
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He’s not loud and the Hawaiian-shirt-man doesn’t notice, but his eyes are red and tears are definitely streaming down his cheek, and he’s just staring down into his lap. I look around the bus, and a few other people are noticing. They look at me, unsure, and I just helplessly stare between them and the man.
“Oh yeah, how did your presentation go? Were you able to cut it down to five minutes?” Pause. “Oh well, next time. Given how funny your analysis slides were, I’m sure you’ve cinched an A, anyway.” Pause. “The conference was…well, honestly, it was a total snoozefest.” Pause, eyeroll, smile. “Yes, yes, you were right and I was wrong. Do you want a medal? Maybe a cookie?”
Besides him, the man puts his head in his hands and begins to tremble with silent tears.
“Oh, my stop’s coming up. Love you, honey! See you soon!” The man stands and strides out of the train when it comes to a stop, oblivious to what’s happening around him.
I think I ride for ten more minutes. At each stop, a fraction of the people get off, staring at each of the other passengers and back to the man with what do we do? plastered on the lines of their faces. He never looks up. I’m not sure he’s aware of any of us, the way we’re looking between ourselves.
The train is pretty empty when I get off, but the man is still there. I don’t…I know he must have gotten off, but in my mind, he’s still there, alone on that train.
I’m…I’m sorry, there isn’t an ending.
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Miss. Pennsylvania shuffled out of the spotlight as though in a daze, and the audience almost forgot to applause.