On the Bus with Jesus: number 5, St. Laurent

On the Bus with Jesus: number 5, St. Laurent

by William Farrant


Corner of Sommerset and Elgin waiting for the bus. A girl stands against the brick wall, one foot up against it, headphones in, chewing gum loudly so her teeth clang together. She looks angry. I'm dressed well, holding a bottle of wine tucked under my arm. The bus comes. The number 5, St. Laurent. I get on and sit towards the back, the first seat to the right, above the step.
The bus moves slowly.
A man with crutches, one headphone dangling from his left hear, covered in an overly large winter jacket, looks nervous. A man yells from the back, "You wanna get off at the next one, Steve, not the one after or you'll have to double back. Get off at the next one." Steve is the man with crutches. He says thanks and hobbles to the door while the bus is still moving. His crutches grind against a railing. He nearly falls. Steve says, "God Bless you, Hank."
Hank is a preacher and he looks ghetto, one of those inner city preacher types. He wears black, but it's not matching, faded in spots, and quickly put together. He also chews gum loudly, and his leg is up on the window sill. He looks reformed. Like he may have killed or could snap at any moment and do crack.
As Steve gets off he says, "Thanks Hank, I needed that tonight."
Hank says, "Don't sleep in the shelter tonight."
Hank gets off two stops later at Rideau Centre. He struts like Rambo. And he's short, stocky, white haired, about fifty, but looks sixty.
A woman gets on dressed in several shades of pink: the sport coat is tope, the blouse is mauve, the skirt is fluorescent pink. She wears several pins and broaches around the breast area. Her curly white and grey hair is knotted up in two bunches on top. She is caked in foundation and breathes heavily as she sits down.
The bus moves again.
The lady in pink fumbles with a broach. Her movements are quick, busy, and not really effective. As the bus stops for a traffic light she gets up and slides over to another seat, slumps down. She carries a watermelon pink bag, its sides scuffed, the brand it advertises indiscernible.
A passenger points out that she dropped a broach. The lady in pink says, "Oh, geez, I only just got that there broach and I'm about to lose it! Thank you and praise the lord! It was only yesterday I got this broach. I was down at Drummond Centre. You know Drummond Centre? Lovely Broach. I should tie a string to it so I don't lose it again."
She pretends to tie a string to the broach. Seconds later she gets up and walks towards the back of the bus. She stops, holds a pole, and says, "Oh, a little stair. Might want to be careful there. Don't want to fall up the little stair!"
A girl who looks like she does hard drugs and wearing a hoodie made for a large man quips, "Be careful of the stair, you don't want to lose a shoe."
I smile at the girl and we share a silent laugh. The lady in pink keeps talking to herself and then takes a step up the stair, and as the bus lurches, she falls and a shoe comes off. She says, "I've lost my shoe, I've lost my shoe, what can I do, what can I do!"
She bends down and tries to put on the shoe as the bus turns. I see her pink sock, but it is not really pink, it's kind of dirty, almost beige from wear. I suddenly think of her undergarments. Are they pink too?
Revolted, I position myself so no one can sit beside me, namely, her. She walks past and sits down on the side at the back. A woman points out that she has dropped her broach. She picks it up and says, "I just got this broach the other day from Drummond Centre. It's a real nice broach! Like the ones rich people wear. I can't lose it. What would Jesus think! Rich people always wear things once and then never again. I'm not rich people. It's a real nice broach, eh? I should tie a string to it so I don't lose it!"
She directs her conversation towards a native family who is talking about Uncle Morris' upcoming visit. They don't listen. The girl who looks like she does hard drugs and wears the large hoodie answers her boyfriends cell phone in French. The boyfriend stares straight ahead. His shaved head is covered in blisters and sores and he holds his right arm out straight on the back of the seat in front of him, like a zombie, mouth open. The lady in pink says, "I just love this broach. It just doesn't want to stay on. I got it at Drummond…."