Jamie slid quietly down the too narrow aisle. "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me," was her mantra as she went. The bus was packed and for a moment she feared she would not find a seat at all. Tears sprang to her eyes at the possibility of having to take the next one. She wanted out of this place now. No, she needed out of here. Desperation ate at her gut. A lifetime of trying to please everyone hung over her shoulders like the world settling on Atlas's broad shoulders.
Just when she was about to give up, she saw it. A window seat near the rear of the bus. But the old woman there had placed her huge bag of knitting on the seat. Jamie inhaled and stiffened her spine. A lifetime of training told her, 'respect your elders,' but desperation drove her forward. "Excuse me, but is this seat taken?" she smiled, trying her best to straddle the line and accomplish both things.
The old woman looked up at her and she froze. That thinning crown of almost white curls. Those dull, but piercing blue eyes. The wrinkled and paper thin skin that hung loosely from frail bones. This woman reminded her so very much of Nanny. But she had been dead for close to two years now. Two long and confusing years. The woman's only answer was t lift the bag of yarn onto her lap.
A skein of pink thread rolled under the seat next to her. Jamie bent to retrieve it. When she rose, Jamie stared into the leering face of a man in his middle years. He was unkempt and held a brown paper bag wrapped tightly around a glass bottle. She shuddered with revulsion as his alcohol drugged eyes undressed her.
Jamie clutched the yarn tightly and held it out for the older woman. She took it with knurled fingers, twisted with arthritis. Jamie scooted past her into the seat. She did not have a bag to store overhead. She had left much too quickly for that. Jamie was a runaway.
At twenty-five though, she was anything but your typical one. She had a bank card that would give her access to a couple of thousand dollars that she had been saving up. She even had one credit card that she could use in an emergency. And she knew that her skills as a waitress/hostess would land her a job. Wherever she landed.
But that was the biggest question...where was she going? She had purchased a ticket for the end of line. The big city. But Jamie doubted that she would like it. Her few visits to major cities had taught her that they were not for her. She figured that there would be dozens of little towns between here and there. She was certain that one of those would appeal to her, maybe even have a 'Help Wanted' sign hung in the window of the local dinner. That was what she was looking for. A fresh start. It was what all runaways were looking for, she supposed.
