Bored at work

Gina waits for the bus, not patiently, but resignedly, knowing that there is no way to make the bus come faster. Everyday, she leaves work with the urgent knowledge that the bus arrives at 5:12 pm, but upon arriving at the bus stop, she realizes that it's going to be late. This realization is born of experience - all those other times that she has waited for that bus. But for some odd reason, she never rids herself of that imposed expectation of being at the bus stop by 5:12 pm. She feels likes she is enslaved by the MBTA.



Her cell phone rings as she waits there. It takes a moment to dig it out of her handbag. It's just one of those needling rings, no ringtones. She could change it to one of those pre-programmed songs that uses high-pitched tones to impersonate music, but that always makes her feel like people will notice that she doesn't have a smartphone. And she hasn't really figured out how to get one of those real songs on her phone.



She doesn't recognize the phone number. So she doesn't answer. She throws it back in her bag. Then she looks around at the others who are waiting. Really? Does this old lady have to stand this close to me? You got a whole freaking sidewalk, lady. Am I standing in the absolute optimal spot for getting on the bus? And yet Gina does not move because of a vague feeling that she doesn't want the old lady to think that she's uncomfortable with her standing so close.



Her phone twiddles. Whoever that was left a voice message. The bus approaches.



The old lady elbows past and stands right on the curb - so much so that Gina is slightly afraid that she'll get hit by the bus. The bus does not slow or veer. It must be some random game of chicken that the old lady and the bus play regularly. Who wins?



Gina lines up to board the bus, while digging through her handbag again for the phone. Crap - pay the bus first. Where did I put that card? Oh, in my pocket. There it is. -$1.50.



She finds a seat near the back - that old lady better stay towards the front of the bus! - and plops down. Her feet hurt. They always hurt. She knows that she really shouldn't wear heels but flats make her legs look dumpy. Without a smartphone, Gina couldn't bear people gawking at her dumpy legs. If they were gawking, it would be comforting to pull out her smartphone and have a very busy and important text that she must study. Sorry, not text, email. When you have a smartphone, you don't text, you email. Just further proof of how unsophisticated her life is.



Oh, my cell. After locating the sneaky little thing, she opens it up. "Listen Now" or "Listen Later?" For a brief moment, Gina savored the mystery, the possibilities, hopefulness of what this call might be. And then terrible premonitions and paranoia flooded her mind - what if this were a hospital and my parents lay dying? Listen now.



"Hey girlie! Ok, so I'm finally gonna make it to see you! I bought my ticket and I fly into Logan on Tuesday. But I can only stay until Sunday and then I'm flying to London. I know, I wish it were longer, but I have a meeting there on Monday. And then I have to be back in Tokyo by the next weekend. Crazy busy! But at least I'll get to see you! Can't wait! Bye!"


Gina is stunned. She saves it. She scrolls through her "Missed" calls to see if she recognizes the number. Once she is looking at it, she realizes, "Of course, I don't know it. I don't know anyone who goes to London and Tokyo." This message is not for her. The thought hits her and then stings for a little while after.



The rest of the bus ride is quiet. Gina looks straight ahead and occasionally down to her phone, still in her hand. Usually she looks out the window on the bus ride home, hoping that she is not drawing attention to her dumpy legs, but today she looks straight ahead. The entrances to the bus are in her direct line of sight. So she sees every person who gets on and off today. The old lady gets off in Allston - in a hurry. Her eyes travel over the bus and the different kinds of people on it. They are none of them noticing her - not even her dumpy legs. It stings - a little like the message - that they don't notice her. But this bewilders her. She would have thought that she'd be ecstatic that she wasn't calling attention to herself.



What Gina doesn't know is that it stings because she is lonely and has only just realized it.