Homecoming

The bus was cramped, crowded, and almost seemed to lack a suspension. People lined the aisle, struggling to find space to move or breath. Some sat down, others stood with the assistance of metal poles meant for stability. George watched out the window as the cars and trees passed by. Skyscrapers were visible on the horizon. The closer he got to the city, the more deeply the memories shook him.

Everything was eerily familiar. George had made a similar trip once before. The trees were bigger, the sky wasn’t as dark, and there wasn’t a moon fading slowly into the sky. However, there was one difference that stood out from the others. That time he was heading away from the city, and more importantly, he wasn’t alone.

The bus came to a stop at an intersection and George closed his eyes. He’d left everything he’d ever known, the last time he was on a bus. He’d packed up, and run off with some girl he’d only met two weeks before. He’d forsaken his old life, and everyone in it.

And now he was coming back. The girl was long gone, as well as most of his money. He had nothing but the clothes on his back, and some more in his duffle bag. He’d long since sold his two suitcases, along with the clothes in them.

The bus was suddenly moving again. George opened his eyes again. He tried to get back to sleep, but he wasn’t tired. He sighed and his breath frosted the window. The early March cold was bitter and thin. He didn’t realize it, but he was shivering. George blew on his hands and rubbed them together. He regretted selling his heavy coat now, but at least he’d had the sense to keep his jacket.

Before long, the bus was in the city. The trees turned to towers, dark blue sky to pitch black, and everything was bathed in stark, Omni-colored, artificial lights that all blurred together as the bus drove on. The vehicles seemed to be of a different breed with other buses, taxi cabs, and even bicycles all zipping past.

The bus stopped for the tenth time that day, and George got up. This was his stop. He slung the bag over his shoulder and maneuvered through the thinning aisle. The second he stepped off the short stairway the bus took off, and he was alone. It was even colder outside the bus. He zipped up his jacket and put up his hood. A harsh wind now helped the chill along, making it easier for it to find and assault any exposed skin. He shivered almost violently as he proceeded down the street.

Everywhere he looked, George was reminded of his past. There was Mrs. O’Leary’s house, where he and his friends used to throw snowballs until she ran out and screamed at them to leave. There was the tree with the broken branch, which he accidently tore down himself, thus causing him to fall painfully onto his back. He spotted the alleyway that he often used as a short cut when he raced his friends to school.

Things seemed to age with him as he walked on. He saw the corner store his friends and him used to hang out around, a broken down car in an empty lot that Tom once tried to fix up (to no avail), the streetlight, under which he stole his first kiss. He saw his old home with the broken window from the last time his father went on a drunken tirade. It was abandoned now.

Then there was the house he came for. It was large and foreboding against the black sky, and pale moon. George arrived at the door. He climbed the steps leading up to it. He inhaled heavily, and let out the breath with a heavy cloud of steam. It had been two years. He had no idea what would happen, if the right person would answer, if he would be forgiven. He realized his hand was trembling as he raised it to ring the bell. For a minute, there was near silence. The sounds of the city seemed to fade into the backdrop of his thoughts. He was still shivering.

Finally, the door opened. A man with a gray hoodie and light green eyes stood holding it. His hair was jet black and somewhat short. “George?” He asked.

George nodded. He was surprised that the man recognized him, it had been so long. “Hey, Bill…” he gave a weak reply.

“What are you doing here?” The last time he’d spoken to Bill, Bill had told him that the girl he ran off with would leave him the first chance she got. That she only wanted him for what little money he’d saved up. He’d told George that if he left, he’d never make it to California and that her and his money would be gone before he got halfway there.

“You were right, Bill.” George blurted out. “Right about everything. She left. She just left and took the money with her.”

“George.” Bill tried to interrupt.

George continued, “I told her we were running out. That we’d have to get jobs or something if we were going to go any further. The next day, the very next day Bill! She was gone!”

“George.”

“I should have listened. I should have, but I didn’t. I can’t believe I just left. I’m sorry man,” tears began running from his eyes. “I’m so damn sorry! I threw it all away! Now I got nothing left. I…I…”

“George!” He shouted it this time.

“What?” George looked at Bill. He didn’t look angry.

“The Sox game is on.” He smiled. “Why don’t you tell me about it next commercial.” He stepped aside, and made a path for George. He stared at Bill in disbelief before walking in.

“How can you just forgive me like that?” He asked after he closed the door.

“George.” He put his hand on his shoulder. “I forgave you a long time ago.” He embraced his friend. “It wasn’t your fault man. It wasn’t.” Bill let go. “You’ll be fine. I’ll set you up with a job, and you can stay at my place for a while.”

“Thanks man.” George wiped his eyes.

“Hey, you were always the closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother. We grew up together. So you made a mistake, but hey,” he shrugged. “You never were the smart one anyway.”
George smiled.

They watched the game for the rest of the night.

I enjoyed it.