"Bus Driver for Souls" by Phil DeAngelis

Bus Driver for Souls

Jonas was a pilgrim in a quaint town. He drove a hearse with two bicycles secured to the roof. He quietly observed everything, all the busy neighbors up-keeping their colonial homes, still standing, protecting the inhabitants from rain. It was wet all the time, drops from friendly clouds cleansing the soil.

A husband patched shingles for three hours on Saturday while his two young daughters played out front. They chased one another, tripping into the grass intermittently. Across the road, Jonas admired their youth from his lawn chair, smoking two or three rolled cigarettes. A pile of mulch decayed in his driveway. His late wife had been the one to do most of the landscaping. All except for the garden, this was his domain. He went inside to make lemonade for himself and, as usual, he returned carrying two glasses on a tray and set one down near the side lot of the house and the other by the Petunias. Jonas retrieved a gardening claw and two tattered gloves from his garage.

Occasionally, passers-by would wave and he would nod. Mostly, however, Jonas held no interest in small talk anymore. After his wife passed away, he gained no happiness from life’s banalities. This is not to say he was grim or cold to his neighbors, he was simply more content observing. In fact, watching was all he did. He had tried to continue running a prosperous funeral home on Amherst Street but decided to sell the business to a man who lived close by. Jonas had plenty of money saved up so he kept the hearse, which he rarely used, as his only form of transportation. The neighbors assumed that the two bicycles he maintained held significance; it had been his wife and his favorite pastime.

Then there was a Monday in late March, the winter chill had lifted and positioned his chair close to the road. It turned noon as he stared at his neighbors seemingly vacated house. He knew both parents would be out on the job. Suddenly, the front door opened and one of the small girls strolled out. She walked straight at him. Without hesitation, she spoke:

“Hey Mister, I’m Alice”, she paused a moment, “What’s your name?”

“Hello there, you can call me Mr. Hutchin”

“May daddy says you’re lonely”

Unable to help laughing, he responded:

“I’d say he’s about right”.

“Its not funny mister, why are you so sad?”

Jonas thought for a moment, searching for a simple answer.

“I can’t ride my bike anymore”

“Did you forget how?” she asked, in all seriousness.

“I suppose I did, Alice. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

A worried look overcame her face, as if she had been busted.

“I am sick today”, she said, “I should go inside now”.

Alice turned away quickly and retreated back to her home. Jonas chuckled, laughing out loud for only the second time in months. To himself, he hoped she would stay next time she was out front on the weekend.
The next morning, Jonas was pondering his conversation with the young lady. He wondered what had made her come over to him; she didn’t even seem nervous. She was obviously a bright girl for her age.
Once again, around the same time, Alice opened the door and walked towards him.

“I’m sick again today” she said folding her arms.

“Oh, I see, must be serious”.

Jonas tried to hide his excitement from her visit. She shrugged and asked, “What’s that big car for Mister?”

“That big car used to be for my job. I suppose I was a sort of bus driver for souls”.

“Can I ride in it?”

“I’m afraid not Alice”.

“My Daddy says it’s for dead people”.

Jonas laughed. “Actually it’s for living souls who no longer have bodies”

She thought for a moment, pondering his response.

“Do they pay you?”

The sky darkened and it began to drizzle. They said their goodbyes and Jonas moved his lawn chair into his garage to enjoy the rain. The next day, he was not surprised to see Alice again. This time though, she straddled her own bike, wearing a large pick helmet. He smiled at her.

“You know you shouldn’t really be outside too much if you’re not feeling well”.

She ignored the statement. “Why do you have two bikes on top of your dead people car if you don’t know how to ride?”

“I think they are memories for me”.

“Do you want to take a ride?”

“Oh I don’t know sweetie. I’m too old for that”

“That’s silly mister, I used to be too young so how can you be too old?”

It seemed to make sense. He thought of his wife alongside him, smiling through the rain as they rode home when they’re rides were cut short so many times. Jonas got up from his seat and untied one of the bikes from atop the hearse. He got on carefully and they rode together as a new rain cloud gather overhead.