First Blush is an anthology of short stories currently available from Fortitude Press. All proceeds from First Blush will go to the international service organization, Doctors Without Borders.It pleases me to contribute Bus Stop Revisited to this anthology. Those of you with a theater background might catch the reference in the title.
Like William Inge's play, Bus Stop Revisited deals with people who meet in a run-down diner next to a bus station. First blushes are hard to come by in a setting like that, but second chances are sometimes possible.
Unlike Inge's play, Bus Stop Revisited is about lesbians, and lesbian lives in small towns.
I dedicated Bus Stop Revisited to my friend Mary Behr, and her daughter Sage. I hope you enjoy it.
You can purchase At First Blush by visiting the website of Fortitude Press.
It makes my hips ache every night, watching Peg slide into that back booth. She never complains about her arthritis, or her cataracts, or the thirty other things wrong with her, but I can see it hurts her to move. I coughed elaborately as I filled her cup, flapping my free hand to clear the fog rising over her booth. Peg winced cigarette smoke out of her good eye and grinned at me.“You’ve bitched about my smoking every night for two years, hypocrite.” She pulled her booted foot off the opposite seat, wincing. “Park it for a while.”
I hesitated. Jason was probably in the back, on the phone with his girlfriend, like every night. There wouldn’t be many customers till the dawn bus. I slipped into the vinyl booth opposite Peg, sighing as my lower back popped, and filled the second cheap mug for me. I always have a full pot ready for Peg, fresh but industrial strength, though the tremor in her blunt fingers worries me. I bitch at her about that too.
We didn’t talk right away, which is one of the things I like best about Peg. She’s okay just sitting watching busses pull in and out. I toed my sneakers off under the table, and sat there for a minute, resting my burning eyes. Peg comes in near the end of my nightshift, so she’s never seen me when I’m not dog-tired.
When I opened my eyes, I saw her counting carefully through her change. Peg was old enough to be retired, and she dressed like she was on a fixed income, but she tipped me as much as her coffee cost, every single night.