Precious Time
My mother always took the bus. I never understood why. We had a car, but she insisted on taking the bus uptown. I think she did it because father would not let her smoke in the car. She could smoke as much as she wanted on the bus. It was expected. And of course she had to sit up front. Moving to the back of the bus was out of the question. As she said it was too dark back there. Yes she was a racist, but she didn’t know it at the time. It was a way of life. I am not condoning it by any means it was what it was. Anyway this is not about racist. It’s supposed to be about me yeah little old Jesse Guzman.
I was ten years old and still trying to figure out what this thing in my pants did other than drain urine from my body. It was weird it would get hard in the middle of night and wake me up. What was I supposed to do with it…Well I finally figured it out. What a mess. Girls were suppose to like this, I don't know it seemed kind of weird.
I started riding the bus with mother when I reach the tender age of thirteen. Man what a trip. I started to understand why I was attracted to women. They were different, exotic, and beautiful, yet untouchable to me. I was always trying to say something smart or cute to get their attention and when I did they treated my like a child (which of course I was). “Oh you're so cute, look at those red cheeks and that curly red hair.” It was of no use to try and impress them. I couldn't figure out what they wanted. I was adrift in a sea of love with no oars. Alas…
Then one day the bus stopped to pick up a rider. He was dark with a square jaw and a day's growth of beard, yet dressed very well. I could feel the weakness in the knees of the woman. He was rugged yet sophisticated and aloof. The usual chatter in the bus came to hush as he entered. I watched closely as he grabbed the overhead handrail and turned his eyes towards the front of the bus. It was if he was a Greek statue that had escaped the museum of fine arts. He was Adonis. Loved by Aphrodite and all women. I knew I was screwed. I was cursed to be short and chunky I could never rise to such place as this God like man. I was; however, still insanely curious about why he had this affect on women. Was it his dark closely knitted curly hair, the olive green eyes, the skin tanned to perfection, and the body of a God or was it something else? I doubted it was something else for he didn't speak a word. He could have been the town idiot for all they knew, but he didn't let on. And anyway he was riding on the bus for Christ sake. Two stops later he got off the bus along with half the women riders. My mother even tried to get off. Luckily I was there to remind her we had ten blocks to go. What a lush.
As my life went on I realized that there are two kinds of people in this world: those that have nothing but good looks and money and those that are destined to serve them. Sure they had fancy degrees and were doctors, lawyers, and such but that didn't make them better than me. We all had the same destiny. Why should I let them rule my life? Why should they decide what is wrong or right? They were dilettantes, fakers, thieves, and seducers. Of course I over exaggerate for I am sure some of them were fine people whatever the hell that means. It’s always shame that drives good people down. The others are shameless and will take and take until you are out on the streets pushing a grocery basket around and talking to yourself about sputnik.
I ask myself why? I pondered this question for some time. And then I realized it was because I was lazy. Yes lazy. If I had pushed or been pushed harder as a child I would not be in this place that has now become a downward swirling trap into the bowels of hell. I would not be working for the man but I would be the man. People would come to me and ask me for help with their lives. They would ask me for my opinion. Money would not be an object of such deep desire. If only I hadn't wasted all my precious time. If only…
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2015
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