Riding the bus

I've never been in the Seattle airport before: it takes a few hours to fly there from my home, after Customs and hop-scotching around people with plaid luggage standing yawning on the moving sidewalks.  Driving has always seemed the more efficient mode of transport.

This terminal is grey, with soaring ceilings and random birds and we stand outside to garner strength for our next leg.  His t-shirt, light green, still holds the evidence of the day previous: black mascara lines on the shoulders where I'd buried my head and cried.  Two cowlicks export from his head, but he's still so damned handsome.  He holds my hand tighter than usual, grips my waist: there is a frantic electricity between us; the kind that comes with the fear of loss.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the shadowed window near the bus terminals and my eyes are puffy, nearly screwed shut with water and my entire person is rumpled and matronly: I could easily pass for 47.

We buy tickets at the Greyhound Terminal and show the bus Corey's driver's license.

"We're Canadian,"we explain,"his passport got stolen in San Francisco."

"Dunno if they'll let you in!" he replies cheerily,"You might be stuck here!"

 He is tall with a red fringe circling the perimeter of his head: he limps and tosses suitcases into the bus, cracks jokes about Your Mother and 2 Guys at the Bar.  Corey and I glance at each other; I touch the small of his back and wonder if immediate forgiveness is the right path.  He rubs my forefinger and his eyes spell regret.

***

The side of the bus advertises Free Wifi, Inside!  And I open my laptop and try to send an email and fail. There is nothing but the smell of blue pee pellet in the dank toilet in the back, the jowls of rows of seniors in front of us.  We are broken and dirty and my prettiest lingerie and Corey's new jeans and sparkly new passport are in a bin somewhere off Van Ness.  The facade of perfect synchronization has shifted, ebbed and I stare at an Indian man several rows up front, chewing the ends of his tattered fingers. 

I can't work: no email, no Internet and so I scroll through pictures on my iPhoto: pictures from when my son and I moved to Vancouver, almost two and a half years ago.  He was so small, I was so broken, we were so intent on our path along the beach, by the waves, even though we didn't know where it would take us.

Corey sighs and leans into my shoulder and I close my eyes and smell his smell: it's soap and spicy sweetness and an undercurrent of something that always makes me crazy, stirs butterflies deep in my stomach.  

The bus driver is talking about Mt. Baker on our right, and I am now coming up to the pictures from the last year: New Year's drinking wine in a plastic cup in the garage with my brother, snowboarding lessons solo, lonely nights and then a burst of unexpected, some time around May.  There is suddenly so much laughter, so much shocked hope, we morph into 3. Tears prick my eyes, again.  I've been handed this love on a silver plate: undeservedly.  I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep it here.

"It totally smells like shit back here,"I say and open up the photo booth in my laptop.

"This is the worst road trip ever,"he says from beside me and someone nearby in this be-shitted bus farts and we both start laughing.

We're in it.

Comments

[Jason]

Isn't it the tribulations now that increase the stickiness of the bond later?

What's a love affair without torment, without peppered question marks, without eventual exultation?

You're in it all right.

[hillary]

love this

[Teej]

I took that same bus 5 years ago when I was visiting this beautiful place and knew I had to make it my home. The Quick Shuttle is quick but we had the same problem with the bathroom venting, it didn't work and as we were coming into the city of Vancouver and getting near the Canada Pier it completely broke down and we had to get out and walk our luggage the rest of the way. Beautiful drive though!

So glad you've found love and happiness.

[Em]

I've never had the "pleasure" of riding on a bus, but your depiction is exactly what I would expect of it.

Good humor and the "one" can make anything better ... even in bad circumstances. I know this, because I'm living it.

Enjoy it!

[Shelly]

Love this. Needed this. Thank you.

[Elmwood]

when I saw the title I thought you were gonna tell about when you were hit by a bus--considering THAT wasn't the worst day of your life I gotta say you are one tough cookie!!!!

[beach]

Ya girl ....you're in it....you are both in it....it's where your supposed to be....nice.

[Lauren]

I really like that photo. Tired and still smiling.

[nomi]

love it. amazing writing. you are an exquisite storyteller.

[Emma]

You guys look so happy

[Molly]

You definitely don't look 47 in this picture! Per the perennial wisdom of "Steal Magnolias," "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."

[Amy]

Forgiveness is key, but it seems you figured that out already. Someone had made a comment on a previous post saying he shouldn't have to ask for forgiveness, but I disagree. Asking for forgiveness shows he knew he did something wrong and he is committed to fixing that something.

You two are awesome.

[Kyla Roma]

Oh my goodness, your blog is just so beautiful. This sounds horrific, but it's so well written...

Well, I kind of want to give you a hug, is all =)

[Petey]

Are we ever going to know what happened?

[Farrell]

Kristin,
You are awfully cryptic lately. I am DYING to know what happened.

[Kristin]

You guys! Thanks for the awesome comments. Nomi: that is pretty much the highest compliment you can give me...I really appreciate it.

Petey: maybe, is all I can say right now.

And Farrell: you are right, and it's because I itch to write but not at the expense of hurting anyone else. So I can't spill all of it, yet. I hope you can understand, and read between the lines for now?

[jennster]

why am i the only one who still wants to know what happened before i can move forward with you? LOL i know that sounds crazy, but you've moved on.. forgived.. and are moving past, but i'm still stuck in sf, with you crying and corey having done something awful, or whatever.. and well, i'm just still in that place. but i want to be where you are, with you... help me get there. :)

[Sharon]

I love your writing but it has been increasingly hard to read the cryptic posts. Not that I need to know all of your business, but it feels a little like you want us to keep guessing. I understand your need for privacy but still.

[Kristin]

Sharon, I get it, I do. If I were you I'd totally have stopped reading a long time ago. I won't blame you or come after you with a wooden spoon if you stop reading.

I love your comments here, you guys are all a huge reason why I continue to write, but I also need this space just to purge as is necessary for me.

[Lara]

Love this.

I read it yesterday after a rather nasty argument with my love. It helped me put things back in perspective. We're in it too, but that doesn't mean it's always rainbows and bunny rabbits. (I have no idea where that just came from...)

In other words, as always, your writing moves me. Thank you for writing.

I for one don't think you need to spill all the details, as nosy as I am :) I often re-read your posts, trying to read between the lines. Sometimes I see something different on subsequent reads, sometimes I don't. It's one of the reasons I love your writing.

[Monica C.]

OK,so these are my guesses:

1. Corey got high on drugs in SF, fell asleep in the car, someone broke the window and stole all of yor stuff.

2. Same as #1, but he didn't sleep in the car, he just roamed the streets all night, high.

3. Corey is/has been a binge drug user who can go months at a time sober and living clean, but who occasionally goes on a binge and doesn't sleep for days.

All my guesses relate to drugs because of something you wrote about his arms being marked up. Also, it was SF. And somehow he's to blame for someone breaking into the car - and the only way I can think of that he would be tied to something like that is b/c he had a serious lapse in judgment ...?

Anyway, who knows. I am probably way off - but I thought I'd give you a sense of what my crazy brain has made of all the clues.

[freckledk]

That picture made me smile, and I needed that smile today. Thanks!

[jaime]

"it's soap and spicy sweetness and an undercurrent of something that always makes me crazy, stirs butterflies deep in my stomach." I know that smell. Thank you for naming it.

[Lindsay]

I loved how you wrote about scrolling through the pics on your iphone. The people who make us the happiest in the world are, (surprise!) just as flawed as we are. In my case when I accepted those flaws in my partner, and just let it all go, our lives got so much better. I am rooting for you guys!