Angela

After three damp days in Washington the rain had turned to snow. The bus station was in a bad part of town and the stark concrete structure was filled with builders paraphernalia. Large plastic sheets hung from the ceiling, closing half the gates and people milled around the remaining gates in various states of boredom and nervousness. The dinginess of the surroundings matched the attitude of the passengers.

The girl in front of me was a short red head with a pleasant, if worn, face. She was probably in her mid twenties, but a tiredness in her features suggested a life that had not been easy. She was wearing a track suit with teddy bears on it and carrying a small, battered, sports hold-all. We appeared to be the only two waiting for the 11pm bus to Tennessee, and the bus was late. She asked me where I was going. Her accent was pure southern and her voice soft and gentle. The low easy drawl made her voice a lullaby. I told her that I was going to New Orleans and we chatted about Greyhound.

It was snowing hard now, the large white flakes dancing wildly outside. "I love your voice, are you English ?" she asked. I told her I was and she said "I could listen to you forever, talk to me. Are you on holiday ?". I explained that I was spending some time travelling, intending to live overseas for a while and asked whether she was going home. "Yes. This is the first time I have been home for six years. I‘ve lived in New Jersey with my boyfriend for the last six years, and I’ve just split up with him. Me and a friend went to New Jersey for two weeks on a holiday six years ago and we met this guy on the beach. I never went back and I lived with him for six years. I’ve finally split up with him. I’ve split up for short times before, after each time he hit me, but never seriously. This time it’s for good and I’m going home."

Then she started to ask me about my trip and how my parents felt about it. I told her that my Mother understood it was something I needed to do and accepted it. "But what about your Dad?" I explained that he had died recently and that was part of the reason I was travelling. Angela asked me, "Are you still sad? It’s real hard to lose one of your parents. My Mum died when I was five. I don’t really remember her but I carry photographs of her. Some people think it’s strange that I’ve got these photos, do you think it’s strange ?". I said that it was natural to have something to remind you of her. "Would you like to see them ?" She asked, taking a small plastic covered photograph album out of her hold-all. I agreed and Angela opened it to show photographs of a pale middle aged red headed woman in 70’s clothing and hair style. She turned the page and her Mother was now lying in state in a plush coffin. "She was pretty wasn’t she ?"

Later we chatted, sitting together on the back seat of a half empty bus plunging through a snow cloaked capitol city. The other passengers are trying to sleep or listening to walkmans, looking out into the blackness behind the snow.

"Do you go to go-go bars or strip joints ?"

"No, why ?"

"Just askin"

She stops, thinks and leans forwards,

"Have you ever been ?"

"No"

"Why not ?"

"They don’t appeal."

"What do you think of them ?"

"Rather sad"

"You think they’re sad ?"

"Pathetic, that’s not how I want to view women."

"But you wouldn’t want a girlfriend whose hair was in knots or who was wide?"

"No, but that’s not the same as go-go bars."

"What about models, you like them and you watch TV, isn’t that the same ?"

"No, I go to a bar to drink and chat with my friends."

"You do like girls don’t you ?"

"Oh yes"

A strange sideways smile. She is watching me.

"I feel strange talking to you" She says.

"Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like me to leave ?" I ask.

"No, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just that I had decided to avoid men for a while. I love your voice, please talk to me."

We chatted for a while. "Did you like Washington ?" I asked "The Capitol is really close to the greyhound station".

"I didn’t dare leave the bus station." She replied "I got off the bus this morning and spent the day waiting. I have only ever really seen New York and Tennessee. I would love to travel and see more like you, but I couldn’t afford it."

"Is your family rich ?" she asked. "No", I replied "My Father was a teacher and my Mum doesn’t work".

"They must be quite rich for you to be able to travel like this" She said.

"I saved for a while before I set off and I hope to work here and there". I replied.

"It must be great to be able to travel like that, I wish I could."

"What do you do for work ?"

"I’m a waitress"

"Well" I said "That is a job you can do anywhere, so you could travel"

"I guess it is, but I would be to scared to."

The snow continued to fall curtaining the rest of the world off. The sense of time was lost and the bus seemed to be gliding without speed through an uncreated universe. I found a pair of seats together and went to sleep.

The next morning the bus stopped at a small town in Tennessee and Angela got out. She didn’t say goodbye or even look at me. She was met by two or three people and they helped her collect the large cardboard box that contained her possessions. I continued on to Knoxville where I stayed the night before catching the bus to New Orleans.