„I‘m going to tide my time.“
The perplexed expression on Atlas’ face is priceless. His expressive reactions are what I’ve always loved. And he’s always accepted my eccentricities, no questions asked. He opens his mouth and pauses. A snicker escapes his lips and I stifle a chuckle.
“Wait…What?!”
I roll my eyes, a little surprised he doesn’t follow along with my reasoning. We’ve always been in sync. We’ve known each other for like, forever, and it’s not uncommon we finish each other’s sentences.
“You know…instead of biding my time, waiting patiently for the right time…tiding my time is more like…I’m going to ride the wave of time and actively engage in the passing of it until it guides me toward my goal.”
He eyes me from his peripheral vision.
“Is this like another bus-theory?”
I laugh at his guarded and skeptical tone. He just knows me too well. And this is not the first time we’ve had this conversation. I can't tell you the many times I’ve complained to him before about dating, the social pressures of getting married, to be in a relationship, and find your person. Blah blah.
Hence, how I came up with my famous bus-theory.
It’s a theory I concocted while living in London for a year.
After patiently waiting 45 minutes for the bus, that was supposed to come every 10 minutes, I eventually gave up on waiting and decided to walk. But, sure enough, as I started walking, six busses turned up simultaneously.
Go figure.
Feeling incensed, I stuck to my guns and kept on walking. I wasn't going to just jump on the bus because now all of a sudden it decided to turn up.
And as I watched the busses drive by, I came to think about the similarities between busses and…well, men.
I chuckle to myself as I recall my insightful observations of the dos and don’ts of…eh, taking the bus…You know, public transportation is important, but it's not for everyone. Right?
#1 Waiting for a bus is futile. If you wait, it won’t come. Walk, and it will. Besides, by walking you’d be hitting two birds with one stone; enjoying the scenery, while exercising.
#2 Never run after a bus. You’ll only waste your energy, and it ends up driving off anyways without a second thought, leaving you behind breathless and frustrated.
#3 Don’t stress if you miss the bus. There’s another one just around the corner.
#4 Never jump on the wrong bus, because the last stop is not where you’re going.
#5 Several busses can take you to your destination. However, some take the long route while others bring you there quicker.
#6 Don’t jump on a bus just because everyone else is. If you want to walk…walk. It’s about enjoying your life, using time wisely. If you get tired along the way and the right bus happens to pass you by, then it’s your choice to jump on. Or not.
#7 If the bus is already full and there’s a long line to get on, back away! Don’t fight to get on. Take the next one.
#8 If you’re going to take the bus, get a monthly pass.
(I guess this is where I’ve struggled the most. Committing to something, or...someone. Taking that big step is scary. And besides, I’ve never wanted to give up “walking” altogether. I’ve come to love and cherish the freedom too much. The freedom to come and go when I want, and...well, it’s…safe.)
“Ruby.”
I snap out of traveling down Memory Lane and look at my best friend.
“You completely spaced out for a sec.” He frowns at me and I sigh deeply, grab a hold of his arm and lean in. I always feel safe with Atlas.
“Sorry…I’ve been all over the place lately.”
It's ironic that the older I’ve gotten the harder it’s been for me to keep walking on my own. Truth be told, I’m tired. And I've reached the point that I wouldn’t mind someone to walk with. Someone who can walk at the same pace as me. Someone I can share my life with, my hopes and dreams.
“I’ve noticed.” The edge in his voice startles me and I look up at him. He’s not his usual self. Come to think of it, he has been distant lately. But I’ve learned with Atlas that he needs his time to process his own issues. Pushing too hard will only backfire. So I don’t. Or...I almost never do.
We’ve stuck with each other through thick and thin, highs and lows of life, relationships, and break-ups since we were nine years old, when he moved to my neighborhood. You could say that we’ve ridden the tides of time together. He’s been my one true constant in life, and I’ve never wanted to jeopardize that safety in any way whatsoever.
“What’s going on?” he finally asks.
Normally it’s me who breaks the silence first because I’ve never liked uncomfortable silences…and yes, I admit it, I'm a talker...
Wait…is he frustrated? Annoyed?
He raises his eyebrows and waits for me to respond. I hesitate a moment because the intensity in his eyes makes me second guess whether I should tell him what’s bothering me. I'm not sure if he's in the right headspace to take my rambling.
But then, I casually shrug my shoulders and dive in. Of course I do. He's after all my best friend and we tell each other everything.
“Why aren’t guys interested in me? Am I that unpleasant to be around? Am I that intimidating that they take one look at me and think She doesn’t need a man?” I roll my eyes playfully, but I’m feeling weary and deflated. My confidence and self-worth have taken a hit lately, especially after my last break-up.
Granted, I wasn’t in love with the guy, and we had nothing in common. I don’t mourn him per se. But I can’t help but wonder what I’m doing wrong since I’ve never reached that point with anyone. To be chosen…ugh. I hate the concept to be chosen, like I don’t have a say in it. Like it’s not within my control to choose whom I spend my life with.
Atlas stops in his tracks and releases his arm from mine. His expression is ambiguous, and I can’t read him. He looks away. And an unnerving feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
Why can’t he look at me?
After a few torturous seconds he sighs deeply and runs his hand through his hair. Something’s off. And I can’t hold back any longer.
“What’s wrong?”
He remains silent and shifts nervously where he stands, like he’s trying to decide whether to continue walking or return home. The silence sets me off and I forge forward.
“Atlas, you’re freaking me out…Can you please just talk to me. We always tell each other the truth. Don't we?” That’s when I see it. When our eyes meet, a fleeting emotion crosses his face. His eyes darken and he frowns.
“I don’t know if you can handle the truth, Ruby…”
I’m stunned by his harsh tone and so confused. I try hard to remember what I possibly could have done to make him react this strongly.
Nothing…I think?
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He groans and looks up to the sky before staring me right back in the eyes.
“It means that you can sometimes be so damn oblivious…”
Ouch. That hurts.
I don’t get a chance to respond because the floodgates are already open. And off he goes. “You continue to make up theories to prove to others that you don’t need anyone, and I’m not saying that’s bad…believe me, I respect you for your values and the ability to be content, not to mention your independence…I even applauded when you ignored countless guys that didn’t deserve your attention…”
“There weren’t countless…” I rebut but he raises his hand and cuts me off.
“Yes. There. Were. You simply didn’t notice…You didn’t see them pine after you. You brushed them off and friend-zoned…them.” He shakes his head. “Because of what? Fear?”
Well, yes. He knows this. Why is he bringing this up now?
“You’ve never recognized your own worth…It’s been…hard to watch.” He sighs heavily.
Is he sad? Is he talking about himself being friend-zoned?
The air shifts between us and I recall the day, we made a pact to marry each other at 40 if both of us were still single. Such a cliché, I know. Atlas suggested it one night out of the blue. I can’t remember which one of us was getting over yet another heartache, but there was a lot of alcohol involved. He threw it out as a joke. Right? He doesn’t have actual feelings for me. Does he? He’s never said anything. For years I’ve ignored my own feelings for him because I didn’t want to risk what we had. Our friendship. The thought of losing him terrifies me.
“Atlas…” I reach out for his hand, but he takes a step back, creating distance between us.
“You say you want to be friends first, feel a connection on a deeper level, someone who can read your thoughts, even finish your sentences…”
I wrap my arms around my middle. I feel exposed and vulnerable and I’ve never seen him this heated before.
Is he right? Have I been blind? But about what?
“…and when it’s staring you in the face, you don’t see it.” He sighs heavily and rubs the ridge between his eyes. Then he looks right back at me and I'm afraid to move. “Maybe I’m not the bus you wanted…”
I can’t breathe,
“…but you, Ruby Swift, are my bus.”
Everything around me starts to spin. And as the world is spinning time comes to a complete halt when our eyes meet and silence surrounds us. I don’t respond because, what can I say?
And when I don’t utter a single word, Atlas’ face falls. He turns on his heel and storms away. I never imagined he saw me anything but a friend. And now watching him walk away, shell-shocked, I hear someone’s voice scream at me. I don't recognize where it's coming from, until it gets so loud that it drowns out my fears. It’s...me...
Move, Ruby. Move!
And that’s when my heart finally connects with my legs, and I start to run. I'm ready to mix it up. I'm ready to rest and let someone drive me around. Even drive me a little crazy. It might actually be fun. And that's why I run.
I run after my bus.
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