Published: 2025-09-10

The bus steadily rolled that night. It was almost empty. A young man sat in the back, hands folded over his lap, with his long, bony fingers interlocked. He had a serene look, as if he had reached enlightenment. In front of him sat a middle-aged man with a big mustache; his hair had turned gray, but his mustache remained black as night. He seemed the type who complained about everything. If the air conditioner was on, it was too cold; if they turned it off, it was too hot. Nothing seemed to please him. Two seats in front, there was a middle-aged woman with a big summer hat and a dress with a floral pattern. She sat next to the window with her head resting on it. She was asleep. Near the front of the bus, there sat a woman in her forties wearing a long-sleeved blouse and a long skirt. Opposite to her was a blind man, around thirty years old, holding a sign that read “Have you some change to spare? May God bless you.”

The bus steadily traversed the sometimes bumpy, sometimes smooth asphalt road, showered in the yellow light of streetlamps that seemed to disappear in the distance as the bus moved forward. The woman in the long skirt stood up, a bible in hand. She started preaching the word of the lord while brandishing the black covered book in the air. Her voice exuded passion, as if she were a woodworker teaching the craft to her pupils, and she moved with such theatricality as if she put her all into every word she said. The young man in the back listened attentively, as if he was spellbound by her preaching. Others paid no attention to her. She spoke of the genesis and the apocalypse, and everything in between. From the sacred garden of Eden to the Four Horsemen. “Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory!” She said while holding the bible in the air. Soon after, as unceremoniously as she had started preaching the gospel, she stopped and got back to her seat. The middle-aged man with the mustache who sat near the back looked at the other passengers as if trying to gather what they were thinking from their expressions. He twirled his mustache and looked behind him. There was only the serene young man. “Say, sport. What did you think of the speech? She had a good talent going on there, but this is a bus, not Shakespeare at the park; people should be quiet. Don’t you think?” The mustache man said. The young man looked at him attentively while he spoke and said nothing. Gazing at the front of the bus. “This youth, I tell you, they don’t respect their elders anymore. Even answering when they are spoken to is too much of a hassle for them. Rascals.” The blind man stood up. He grabbed a metal pole with one hand and the sign he carried with him with the other. With sadness in his voice, he recounted how a group of thugs jumped him and threw acid at his eyes, leaving him blind. He became jobless, homeless, defenseless! He lost more than his sight. He lost everything. He closed his speech by saying, “If you could spare some change, it doesn’t have to be much, I’m sure God will pay you manifold.” The man with the mustache looked at the young man and said, “What is this? Church? Alcoholic Anonymous? Now everyone is gonna stand up and say their piece? ‘My name is Albert and I’m an alcoholic’? What do you say, sport?” The young man paid no attention. “Gee, I hope you’re next. I’m dying to hear your speech.” The woman with the long skirt reached for her purse before realizing she wasn’t carrying it with her. I must have left it at home, she thought. The bus fell silent for a moment. No more speeches, no more preaching, no more begging, just silence. Out the windows, only darkness could be seen, then the yellow glow of the street lights, and then more darkness. “Gee, it’s pretty dark out there; it must be getting late.” The man with the mustache said. He rolled his sleeve a couple of inches to reveal his watch. It had stopped. “Funny, this gizmo. It had stopped! Always like that, they fail when you need ‘em the most. Do any of you have the time?” No one answered his question. “I’m a busy man. I can’t spend the whole night riding a bus; I have places to be.” He frowned and started twirling his mustache, but his expression rapidly changed from anger to confusion. He turned to the young man and opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately gave up the idea. The young man looked at him, expressionless, and gave him a half-smile. The man with the mustache felt a chill go down his spine. He started calling out the woman with the long skirt, “Sister! Sister!” She didn’t want to engage in conversation with the man. “Sister! Where are you headed?” The woman rolled her eyes in annoyance, but then she turned her head back and stared at the man with the mustache. He nodded at her. The woman with a long skirt turned to the blind man. “I don’t know either.” He said before she could ask him. Panic took hold of her. She started pushing the stop button next to her seat, but it didn’t seem to work. She jumped over to the blind man’s seat, but his button didn’t work either. “I’m pressing it. It doesn’t work!” Said the man with the mustache. The woman with the long skirt started banging the acrylic plastic that separated the driver's seat from the passenger area. A total disregard for the sign that said “Please don’t knock on the glass.” The driver turned on the radio. The woman left out a loud scream that was drowned by the words “Quimbara, cumbara, cumba-quimbambá.” The chatter of the preoccupied passengers mixed with Celia Cruz’s joyful singing made for a chaotic atmosphere. The sleeping woman with the big hat reached for the button next to her seat, and after pressing it, the bus stopped. The chatter stopped, and so did Celia Cruz’s singing. She took the hat off her face and stood up. “You sure are a lively bunch. Don’t you feel bad for waking up a lady?” Everyone stood there, flabbergasted; they had forgotten this woman was even on the bus. “Felix? Would you be a deer and open the door?” The back door swung open. “Come, my lovelies, we have arrived.” The man with the mustache looked around. “Arrived where?” He asked. The woman smiled. “Come on. Watch your step.” One by one, they exited the bus. All but the young man who sat in the back. The woman approached him and smiled, “You know, don’t you?” The man nodded. “But I’m an atheist.” He said. She put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Honey, this is not an exclusive club. Now come on.” They stepped out of the bus and saw it disappear into the night.

THE END.