Bookends.
Today, I took the bus out to where my parents live. The trip takes a couple of hours, and usually, I just take the time to ponder and/or sleep, since I've never had the fortune of being able to read in a moving automobile without getting a fit of motion sickness. I can do trains. I can do planes. I can do boats. I've even done a bit of reading on a bike (which ended tragically for reasons other than nausea). But give me a passenger seat and a book, and set me atop any combination of wheels (greater than two and less than eighteen), and I'm a sitting duck for multiple forms of dizziness and discontent.
Maps I can handle. Anything else requires a bucket. Or my purse, on one particularily fateful road trip with a boy who loved his upholstery very, very much.
The bus today was somewhat empty, except for an assortment of old women knitting, young people who looked to be on similar treks to my own, and two couples who sat side by side in the front seats of the coach. I opted to doze off about as soon as I settled into the side-facing seats near the driver (another concession to my motion woes), but my slumber didn't last long. I was pretty much instantly roused by the conversation of the aforementioned pairs, and remained awake (watching them behind my dark glasses) as we departed the city and set off into the countryside.
Have you ever seen two people together, and wondered how the heck they came across one another? You know the ones: strangely mismatched couples who don't appear to have a thing in common, and who seem to possess qualities or quirks that seem inherently at odds with each other.
Now, I'm not one to say what makes people compatible, or that opposites don't attract, or that you can tell much of substance about people from a cursory glance or two. Honestly, though...some of the relationship combinations I come across are so damned weird that I can't help but rubberneck a little at the magic that ensues. But I digress.
One of these bus couples was ubernormal, at least according to my experience. They were probably retired (likely from fairly white-collar positions), casually well-garbed (Eddie Bauer-L.L Bean fashion continuum), and quite docile in their discussion and interests. Her fingers were stacked with wedding and anniversary rings galore, and his hand rested casually on her knee, sporting a single gold band. She would point out mundane things on the roadside, and he would grunt in acknowledgement. It seemed like a rather natural, time-honoured exchange for them both. Truth be told, they reminded me of the vast majority of my friends' parents. At one point, he reached into her coat pocket, took out a piece of gum, broke it in half, ate one piece of it and offered her the other. She popped it wordlessly in her mouth, and continued to comment on the fauna in passing ditches.
The other couple was...how do I say this gracefully?...completely, totally, and utterly bizarre. If it pleases the court:
He:
- four tattoos visible on his arms (an American flag underneath the words 'Cuba Libre'; a bust-type illustration of Anton LaVey with his name in script (Google Image Search him...eeek); a pinkish-gray salmon; and something that looked like SuperMario)
- green tank top, stonewashed overalls, fleece socks, white Adidas runners
- strawberry-blonde hair in afro-like mass
- a selection of gold chains
- approximately 55-60 years old.
She:
- masses of brown curly hair bound up in chopstick, atop a face unmade-up save for blood red lipstick
- dusty rose trenchcoat, acid-wash jeans, burgundy sweater, long burgundy velvet scarf, clogs
- selection of Victorian-themed and Native-themed accessories, including a cameo brooch, and a totem-pole necklace
- large black backpack (apparently stocked with veggie drinks)
- aged 47 (she mentioned this).
He was slumped in his seat, legs spread, with his arm dangling lifelessly into the aisle of the bus. She was curled up against his side, like a big pink koala clinging to a tattooed rubber plant. There was an awkwardness to it all, as though there were personal space issues unresolved and unmentioned between them. I recognized this from my observation of brand-new junior high couples at the camp I used to direct. There is nothing on earth more painful to watch than two eighth-graders navigating the seas of PDA.
She had a runnning commentary going, too, just like the woman in the other couple, but it had nothing to do with scenery. I can only recall the following exchanges with any clarity:
- She: "Are we angry people?" He: "What the hell? No." She: "Well, sometimes we have bad energy." He: "What the hell do you mean?" She: "Want a V-8? Veggies!"
- She: "Are you cold? I worry about you getting cold. Chilled straight to your spirit!" He: "What the hell? No." She: "Want my scarf?" He: "Give me a V-8."
- She: "Do you enjoy touch? I just take it for granted that you do." He: "Do whatever the hell you want." She: "Your ears are poetically-shaped."
- He: "Did you write down directions?" She: "Oh, now...we'll figure it out together." He: "How the hell? Ask that woman."
And this is what brought Couple No. 1 and Couple No. 2 together.
She leaned over him, much to his further "What the hell?" chagrin (despite the fact that he requested it), and loudly asked the wife of the grunting man if she knew the whereabouts of the hospital in my parents' community. Mrs. Eddie Bauer looked a bit taken aback by the request, but elbowed her husband to ask if he had any idea where the medical facility might be located. Mr. Bauer turned, boggled a bit at the man and woman across from him, and shook his head rather abruptly. His wife shrugged with an apologetic smile, and everyone fell silent again.
Until 'Cuba Libre' spoke up.
"Where you two headed?" At this, Mrs. Bauer sighed, and shifted in her seat to face him.
"To the beach, for the day. Just a little trip for fun. Long weekend, and all. You?"
"Eh, her mom's in the hospital, and apparently she's out of the will if we don't put in an appearance."
"Oh, goodness." Mrs. Bauer was apparently unsure what to say.At this point, Pinky withdrew her arm suddenly from Cuba's neck, and looked forlornly out the window. This change in body language led him to change his story.
"Actually, I doubt there's a will, the old bat probably doesn't own anything."
Silence reigned once more, save for Mrs. Bauer's mention of the occasional bullrush.
Two more exits passed, and then Pinky addressed Cuba with a sad voice.
"She could die soon, you know." He nodded sympathetically, and she continued. "I just want her to leave the planet with love glowing in her. I want to pour into her life." He took a swig of V-8, and sighed deeply.
"How many freaking veggies do you think I just drank?" They spent the next few minutes checking the label, and then Pinky leaned across him to address Mrs. Bauer once more.
"Today is our 27th anniversary. Isn't that wild?" I was totally shocked. This had been like this for 27 years? She nuzzled her husband's cheek, and then peered at the other couple in an assessing way. "How long have you two been married?"
"Oh, we're not married. This is our third date. We met about a month ago." She smiled, and Mr. Bauer grunted affirmingly. Pinky's eyes widened.
"Gosh! You guys look like you emerged from the womb together." Mrs. Bauer grimaced a bit at this thought, and shook her head in response.
"No, we both divorced our spouses last fall. But you gotta get out there sometime, right?"
At this revelation, I flipped up my sunglasses, and made almost immediate eye contact with Cuba, who grinned crookedly. He probably sensed my shock at the bizarre juxaposition unfolding before my eyes. I mean, who would have guessed that the perfectly symmetical couple would be more new of the two? They were about as natural together as chocolate and peanut butter!
It was one of those moments that serve as an undeniable reminder of the fact that I don't have relationships remotely figured out just yet. There are no generalities, rules, or formulas in the game of love, folks. Just a lot of hopes, effort, compromises, and apparently, weird tattoos.
But, back on the bus, Cuba nodded in seeming affirmation of my unexpressed thought, and then addressed me directly.
"How many veggies do you think are in a bottle of this V-8 crap?"
12:04:18 AM 
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