Changed Routines

This is a story I wrote for my Creative Writing class a couple weeks ago. 

Every Saturday morning, Grace Rowan stood at the corner of State and Grand; awaiting the 7:55 bus that would take her east towards the park. She dressed neatly, yet comfortably for the hour long drive. She always sat in the fifth row back in the outside seat on the right side. There were rarely other people on the bus—it was too early on a Saturday for most people to be awake.

One stop later, at the corner of State and Kensing, another regular passenger boarded the bus. He was tall, with dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. Grace always looked out the window as he boarded, pretending not to notice him. He sat on the outside seat, five rows back on the left side. He greeted her with a brief nod every morning; she returned it out of common courtesy.

Silently, Grace and the man rode the bus to the park. They stood up at the same time, but he always let Grace go first. Grace got off the bus and walked north to her favorite hiking trail. The man walked behind her at an acceptable distance after getting a drink at the water fountain by the bus stop. Grace hiked up the Bent Twig trail; the man took the Eastern Cave trail. They met in the middle at the picnic grounds where the trails crossed.

Grace always carried her backpack packed with a picnic lunch, a couple of notebooks, and a book or two. The man had a backpack with lunch and a single book inside. They ate lunch at tables separated by a shadow. Grace finished first. She re-packed her bag and headed up the Bent Twig trail. Both trails ended at the falls. Grace sat on the right side of the falls; she could see the man sitting against a rock on the left.

At half past three, both would get up, dust the leaves off, and walk back to the bus stop. They would catch the 4:00 bus heading west and sit five rows back on the outside seat on the left and right sides of the bus. The man would get off at State and Kensing; Grace would debark at State and Grand and walk the short half a block to her home.

Every Saturday, the same routine repeated itself. Every Saturday for three years, Grace stood at the corner of State and Grand at 7:55; awaiting the bus going east towards the park.

One Saturday, no one got on the bus at the corner of State and Kensing. Grace faintly wondered where he was. The ride to the park was different without the man’s strong presence across the aisle. She walked north, expecting to hear the man’s footsteps behind her. The park felt quiet without him following her. She ate lunch at the picnic area; the only person. When she reached the falls, she glanced across the divide but saw nothing but trees and birds. Grace walked back to the bus stop, so lost in thought that she almost missed the 4:00 bus. As she walked in the front door, she felt as though her Saturday routine had been changed; but nothing had.

The next week, Grace boarded the 7:55 bus heading east, preparing for another strange Saturday. When the bus stopped at the corner of State and Kensing, the tall stranger boarded and nodded at Grace as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. Grace nodded back out of habit. They arrived at the park and the man stopped at the drinking fountain before following Grace down the north path. They took their separate paths and met at the picnic grounds for lunch.

Grace couldn’t focus on her book. She closed it and opened another. When she had gone through all four books in her bag with no luck, she angrily threw them back in her pack.

“My best friend got married last Saturday,” the man commented, just loud enough for her to hear. “I was in the wedding.” He didn’t take his eyes off the pages of his book.

Grace jumped. “Oh,” she managed to say.

The silent lunch continued. Grace wondered why she had never talked to the man she’d shared her Saturdays with for three years before. “My name is Grace,” she said softly, keeping her eyes focused on her lunch.

He looked up and smiled. “I’m Jim.” He gestured to the empty seat across his table. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

Grace nodded shyly and gathered her belongings to join Jim at his table. They started talking about their shared love of nature and ended up spending longer at lunch. When they finally got up to continue their hike towards the falls, Jim asked Grace if he could accompany her on the Bent Twig trail. She nodded and they continued their conversation up the trail until they reached the falls.

They both sat down with their backs against a large rock and lapsed into a comfortable silence. At half past three, they both stood and headed back down the path towards the bus stop. They boarded the bus and sat in their usual seats. When the bus stopped at State and Kensing, Jim stood up.

“Thank you for the conversation, Grace,” he smiled at her and got off the bus.

Grace rode the bus to her stop and walked to her house thinking about Jim. She realized that over the years, he had become an important part of her life—a key ingredient to her routines and her way of thinking. She savored every minute of their conversation from the park, going over it again and again, memorizing every word. She was looking forward to next Saturday even more than usual.

Grace got on the bus cheerfully that Saturday morning, excited about the chance to talk to Jim again. She had carefully packed a picnic lunch that she could share and her favorite books so she could talk to him about them. She craned her neck out the window on the right side of the bus when it pulled up to Jim’s stop. He didn’t get on.

Grace slumped back into her seat, confused. Where was he? Another wedding to attend? Her Saturday felt ruined. When the bus stopped next, she got off. The driver looked surprised.

“Getting off already?”

“Yes, I changed my mind about going to the park today,” Grace quickly answered him. She walked home, unable to concentrate on anything. It frustrated her that Jim had become such an essential part of her life without her knowing it. She wanted to get to know the man who sat next to her on the bus every week. She determined that the next time she saw him; she would make an effort to ask him about himself. She reminded herself to be open to life and to not retreat into her shell of comfort.

The next morning, Grace shuffled outside in her fuzzy slippers and robe to get the Sunday paper. Yawning, she tucked it under her arm and walked back inside to grab a mug of steaming coffee. She plopped down in her kitchen chair, sloshing the hot liquid in her cup. She opened the paper and casually flipped through it, sipping her coffee. She skimmed through the ads as she always did, looking for a secretarial job or a free kitten.

            Instead, she found an ad in the personals: “Wanted: a woman who likes to go to the city park every Saturday morning. Must like nature and writing and have the name Grace. For more information contact Jim Thorne at 716-879-0428.”

            Grace smiled as she read it and smiled as she picked up her phone to call.