Today’s installment is written by Mary Ann.
continued from Monday…
Austin was engulfed in a dark gray gloom, its late afternoon skyline obscured by cold, drizzling rain as five o’clock approached and dusk fell upon the city. It was my wedding day, and the preacher expected us promptly at 7:00 p.m.
At the very instant the clock ticked off the five o’clock hour I clicked the lock on the office door, doubled checked that the door was secure, then hurried to the corner bus stop. I had no umbrella, so I covered my head with the folded newspaper I’d brought to read on the ride to work. I expected only a short wait for the bus.
Prentice was waiting for me at the rooms on Rio Grande where I would hastily shower, put on the beautiful dress Prentice had bought me for the occasion, and set out with him for the church. We would make the walk together, in the rain if need be, all six blocks. After all we’d been through, somehow that seemed fitting.
I had noticed during the afternoon that traffic on North Lamar, the street that ran in front of the office, seemed to be backing up from time to time. As I trotted to the bus stop I realized that road work was being done further up the next block. I hoped that the traffic slow down wouldn’t delay the bus. My coat was warm, but it was short and had no waterproofing.
As the minutes passed, I began to grow anxious and concerned that the bus was nowhere in sight. I didn’t own a watch, but I was sure the bus was late. Had it been on time, it would have arrived at my stop at 5:05 p.m. I had been at the corner stop, I knew, more than five minutes. The drizzling rain had soaked the newspaper covering my head, and it was limp in the way that only wet newsprint can be.
Icy water dripped from the collar of my coat. My hair was channeling moisture inside the collar, and I was wet to the skin from the sole of my feet to the bottom of my short coat. I had taken off my glasses and put them inside my pocketbook. The lenses were wet, and all was a kaleidoscopic blur seen through them.
Cars passed, trucks roared by splashing sheets of near frozen, slushy water around my ankles, and minute after minute passed with no sign of an approaching bus. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, then thirty minutes I guessed had passed… the bus, I thought, must have run early, and I had somehow missed it. Even my thoughts seemed frozen.
I was confused, scared and conflicted as to what I should do. Surely, I thought, a bus… some bus…. would come along soon. I thought of running back to the motel office to check the time, but was afraid a bus would come and go before I could get back to the corner. I decided I couldn’t risk missing it. I would stay in the rain a while longer.
Another bus was scheduled to pass the bus stop at 5:37 p.m. Maybe it would be early, I hoped and prayed as I stood in the now freezing rain. Oh, God, please let it be early!
If the 5:37 bus was on time, it would get me back to my room in time to dry my hair and change my dress, and maybe we could borrow an umbrella to carry on the walk to the church. “Oh, God… please let that bus come,” I prayed with every passing second.
I knew that Prentice had expected me back at the rooms by 5:20 p.m. It wouldn’t be long now, I knew, before he would start to worry. If the bus came at that moment, I would be lucky to make it to him by 6:00 p.m. He would, by then, be frantic.
Twice, as I stood drenched and freezing, cars stopped at the corner with offers of a ride. The first invitation came from two middle aged men in a new, black Lincoln. Cigar smoke billowed out from the narrowly cracked passenger window as they urged me to join them in the front seat. I stepped as far as I could from the curb and declined.
I was starting to get scared, really scared. Within a minute a second car pulled alongside the curb. The second offer was not so polite, and I prepared to bolt back to the motel if the car door should start to open.
This was my wedding day… This was… Finally, I could stand it no longer. I could not make my teeth stop chattering, and I shivered so hard that my neck hurt. The street light made little headway against the rain, and darkness had fallen all around me, I was scared, and I was alone.
Every approaching car that slowed sent my heart into my throat, and I could feel my stomach twist. There was no longer a choice. I stumbled back toward the motel.
To be continued…
{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }
Stopping where you do is mean! Can’t you make each installment longer? I’m dying to know what this is all about. Surely there will be more answers in Installment 7?