Chapter 3: Bus Stop Vibe

When I reached the bus stop, I sank onto the steel bench, doing my best to ignore the teenaged couple making out like they were the only two people left in the world. Pulling my phone from my bag, I checked my email. There were several spam messages, but nothing good.

It was almost seven. My interview had been my third one of the day, and I was hungry and exhausted. Going to my recent calls, I thought about dialing Reid’s number. He was out of town, and had told me he would be unavailable, but I really needed to be cheered up. “What the hell?” I whispered and dialed his number. As expected, it went to voicemail and I hung up, tucking my phone back in my bag.

Yellow taxi after yellow taxi whizzed past, mocking me as I waited for the bus. I could’ve taken a cab. I still had my savings, but I couldn’t bring myself to use it on something as frivolous as a taxi when a bus ride was so much cheaper.

So, I sat there feeling sweaty, depressed, and in serious need of a life-changing event.

When I graduated college, law school had been my next step. As a list-making organizer with a firm belief in justice and truth conquering all in the end, I loved the classes immensely. Now that I was done, the real work began, and it had nothing to do with lists.

Of course, all law firms also wanted wins, and I’d done a lot of that under the tutelage of my instructors. But I was also honest and had integrity. I refused to take shortcuts or evade the truth to win. Several of the interviewers had skirted around the fact that there were a lot of gray areas. They hadn’t come out and said that, but it was implied that innocence was a matter of perception.

My parents would’ve been happy if I’d chosen underwater basket weaving. I often called them hippies, with their laid-back attitudes. I loved them, but I didn’t understand them all the time. I sighed heavily. If I didn’t get a job soon, I didn’t know what I would do.

Thankfully, I shared a brownstone with my best friend, Birdy. I hadn’t paid rent yet and Birdy said I didn’t need too. Her parents were beyond wealthy. But I had to do my part. I didn’t like handouts.

Finally, the bus arrived, sending a cloud of smelly exhaust into the air.

I held my breath as I climbed the steps, swiping my pass before finding a seat. The driver signaled into traffic. As it droned forward, I stared out the window, admiring the skyscrapers as they rushed by. Dozens of the buildings were filled with recently graduated law students with the same qualifications I had and with no qualms about bending the truth. I couldn’t think like that though. It didn’t matter what choices others made, only what I did.

At the next bus stop, a group of laughing teenaged boys climb on. They were the epitome of potheads—long stringy hair and baggy clothes, not to mention the cloying stench of reefer lingering near them. As the bus pulled away from the curb, they discussed a party later that night and who was coming. When one of the guys mentioned a girl, they rated her on a scale from one to ten and gave specific comments about why the girl had been given her rating. It was disgusting and I tried to tune them out, thinking instead of Reid Nelson. We were getting married the following April.

I wanted something simple, but Reid’s family was filthy rich, and they had hundreds of friends they needed to invite—at least that’s what his mother said. Mrs. Nelson had completely taken over the wedding planning. Reid’s mom and dad overwhelmed me. I asked Mrs. Nelson more than once if I could help but was always rejected. At this point, I didn’t even know if I would be wearing a white dress. According to Reid’s mom, white was passé. Cream was a better color.

Because of Mrs. Nelson, I wasn’t really looking forward to the wedding. Instead of a blushing bride, I felt like a piece on a chessboard, only needed when it was time to show up on the wedding day, say I do, and have my picture taken.

It bothered me immensely. I shared my feelings with Reid, but he just laughed it off and said, “Welcome to my life.” He also explained that after the wedding it would be different. “You aren’t marrying them, you’re marrying me,” he said. Sadly, that didn’t feel true, but I was no quitter, and I had my goals. Marriage was one of them.

I studied my wedding ring. Neither Reid nor his parents liked the idea of me working. If they had their way, I wouldn’t have a job at all. “We’ll have plenty of money,” Reid said more than once. “And I need you to be my support. There will be a lot you need to do within our circle of society.”

A jolt of frustration pricked my heart and tears sprang to my eyes. Embarrassed, I wiped at them, but they kept coming. The emotion surprised me, and I realized the reason.

I was in one of the biggest cities on the continent, amongst millions of people, and I felt completely alone. A niggling doubt kept me questioning my decision to marry him. Reid and I were from such different worlds. I loved him but wondered if he really loved me. Our relationship started out all right. The sex wasn’t mind blowing, but it was good enough until he cut me off. Since then, each time we spent any time together, the occasion felt stilted and awkward instead of sweet and romantic.

My phone rang. It was Reid. “Hey, I was just thinking about you,” I said, resting my head against the window. “Thanks for calling me back.”

“Katie?”

“Yes. Who else would it be?” I laughed, thinking he was joking.

“Oh, hey. Listen, I’m still out of town but wanted to check on you. Everything okay?”

“Not really,” I said, grateful for the opportunity to talk to him. I could hear music in the background and wondered where he was. “My interviews today didn’t go well at all.” I closed my eyes, willing myself not to cry again.

“Don’t even worry about it. You don’t need to work. I’ll take care of you, babe.”

My previous frustration returned with a vengeance. “Reid, you know I want—”

“You should do something fun tonight,” he said cutting me off. “But not too much fun.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, upset he wouldn’t listen. Nor did he have any empathy for my situation. I gritted my teeth to stop from saying something I’d regret. It was probably part of his upbringing. I couldn’t imagine how it would be to never want for anything. “I’ll try.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” He hung up before I could say good-bye.

With a sigh, I tucked my phone away. The bus came to my stop, and I gratefully got out, walking the short distance to my brownstone. The building’s elevator was out of order, a regular occurrence, so I took the stairs up to the third floor. At my apartment, I unlocked the door, jiggling the handle a few times since it tended to stick before pushing it open.