Catching the Bus        by Tsai Hui Jun 蔡慧君

“The terminal station. Thank you for your patronage,” said the familiar mechanical voice from the speaker above. The heavy silence mixed with drowsiness permeating the stuffy limited space in the past five minutes was broken. People started to flood to the door with eagerness. Hearing the holy summon, those who sat rooted to their seats jumped up to their feet immediately as if a hidden nail suddenly popped up and stung them. It looked like the train was a jail, and the passengers were the prisoners longing for freedom, which was only a step away outside the door. The train finally steadied itself and arrived exactly at where it ought to stop. The passengers were like ambitious competitors hungry for the first prize in a 100-meter race. “Ready, set, go!” As soon as the door opened, people rushed out in the direction of the escalator. A glimpse of smirk flashed from the winner’s face; he seemed to immerse in the sweetness of victory. 

A boy was with his mother. He didn’t want to run, but he was forced to stride quickly to catch his mother’s speed. “Hurry up, sweetheart, or we’ll miss the bus,” said the mother without looking at him. “Mummy, I am already at top speed,” objected the boy. Nevertheless, knowing that his mother wasn’t paying any attention to him, all the boy could do was run and run and run. It usually took them five minutes, sometimes even longer, to get to the bus stop for they would stop by some shops. However, to the boy’s surprise, they only spent three minutes this time. It was 7: 05 P.M. 

There was already a long line of people waiting for the bus. It was about dinner time. Students after school and people after work were eager to go home. As the boy stopped running, the freezing night air, which he didn’t feel while running, penetrated his rather thin sweater and made him shiver. The hot air he exhaled from his mouth combined with the cold air turned into a puff of white mist. Pleased to see the mist, he gave out more puffs. Near the bus stop was a delicately-designed chain store. The clerk was trying his best to attract customers by advertising the tempting discount offered in the sale. Though some people in the line looked attracted, they remained still because the desire of getting on the bus conquered everything. Some were gazing aimlessly into the air, and others were reading newspapers, magazines, or books to kill time; however, they were not concentrated on what they were reading at all. A man held a book in his right hand. He read a few lines, looked up, and then checked his watch even though he just did a few seconds ago. He read a few lines again with his left hand brushing through his untidy hair absent-mindedly. But he seemed totally oblivious that it was another page for the wind kindly saved him the trouble.

Time was like an old lady walking across the street. She walked so slowly that she couldn’t cross the street before the traffic light turned red. But the drivers, feeling impatient, had to wait for her patiently. After having waited for fifteen minutes, which was like a century long, the boy suffered from hunger and cold. He couldn’t figure out why his mother didn’t want to take the bus from where they got on the MRT. Why do they bother to stand in the cold to wait for the bus here? He felt so tired and bored that he didn’t want to think about the questions swirling in his head. His sore legs needed a rest desperately. From a distance, they saw the bus coming. “Thanks god,” murmured some people. As the bus drew nearer, the relieved expression on their faces disappeared. The boy saw her mother frown, which usually happened when he did something wrong. “No! Half the seats are occupied. We may not have seats,” said the boy’s mother, “Anyway, it’s fine as long as we can get home as soon as possible.” 

Three, two, one, the three lucky passengers were awarded the last three seats.  Then the bus driver said coldly, “No more seats. Wait for the next bus.” The one standing at the door argued with the driver indignantly, “I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes. Now you tell me to wait for another twenty minutes. No, I insist to take this one.” “Sorry, that’s the regulation. I will be fined NT 3,000 dollars if I let you get on the bus. Unless you’re willing to pay the penalty for me,” replied the driver, annoyed. He had been under this kind of situations for several times. Though he was compassionate with the passengers, he couldn’t help them. He thought in mind that sometimes being selfish is necessary. He closed the door determinedly, and drove away. What left behind was the complaint and discontent he couldn’t deal with. The driver recalled that one time he decided to take a chance, so he took more passengers.  A few weeks later, he got the NT 3,000 dollar traffic ticket. 

“Come on, let’s go to another stop. There won’t be so many people,” whispered the mother in the boy’s ears. When she took her son’s hand, the exhausted expression on her face immediately turned into a worried one. Even though her teeth were chattering violently because of the cold, she took off her scarf and put it on her son.  A taxi driver greeted them graciously by boasting the warm and comfortable atmosphere filled in his car. She noticed the weariness on her son’s face, which made her frown again; however, she couldn’t help reminding herself of the necessity of saving money. Taking her son’s hand, she took a firm step toward their destination.

While running, they bumped into someone; nevertheless, she didn’t have time to apologize sincerely for her rudeness. She panted out a quick “sorry.” Not having time to take a look, she didn’t even know whether that someone was a man or a woman. What followed was a noise of things dropping down to the ground. The angry cry from their victim decreased behind them.

In haste, they arrived at another stop. There were only three people. “We definitely will get on the next bus,” said the mother confidently. Her fatigue seemed to be consoled. “Mummy, why didn’t you speak louder to me? That tickled my ear. I couldn’t hear you clearly,” asked the boy. “There are still so many people at that stop, if I had told you loudly, they would have heard and followed us to this stop. We can’t take any chance,” replied the mother. “But Mummy, you always teach me to help others. Shouldn’t we help them?” asked the boy again. “Yes. But there’s always some exception. You will understand when you grow up,” replied the mother. “Mummy…” asked the boy again. “Why do you have so many questions?” interrupted the mother angrily. “I saw the bus we had taken last week at where we got on the MRT. Why do we come here?” asked the boy timidly, daring not look at his mother. “Well, this bus saves us time. It is much faster than other buses. That’s why it’s so popular. If we had taken the bus we missed, we would have been home. I thought we could …. Here comes the bus,” said the mother without looking at her son. It was 7: 40 P.M.