Page 24 of Reclaiming Adelaide

I jumped as the bottle I’d kicked skittered across the rough asphalt and collided with something metallic that clanged with an echo. Pulling my bag closer to my chest, I looked back to the fence I’d crawled over and watched the homeless man weave back and forth, watching me with vested interest and a raised brow.

Forcing myself to move, I walked toward the end of the alleyway where the streets came alive, and light touched the sidewalk.

My shoulders sagged as I stepped out through a storm of collected fear and started my short walk to the bus station.

There were two places I’d had in mind when I first chose to leave three days ago. Montreal and the furthest point north in Maine.

Montreal won the toss-up.

The only issue was getting there. Planes were quick, but there were cameras everywhere. Trains were another one of those…eh, maybe, options. Downside, it had predictable routes and stops. But buses… I could get off anywhere for a potty break and never get back on. No one would ever know.

When I reached the bus station, sweat dripped from my hairline, and with each breath I took, the stitch in my side ripped down to my limping leg.

“Hi, where would you like to go?” Wanda said, her name tag attached to the breast pocket of her white polo.

“I need one ticket to Montreal.”

She gave me the total and asked if I had any luggage. I paid in cash, and she handed me my ticket.

“Is there a store here?”

“Right around the corner.” She pointed. “It’s next to the food mart.”

“Thanks.”

I took my ticket and followed her direction to the store where they had burners next to neck pillows and tech magazines that only someone like me would read.

“How much are these?” I asked, holding up the smartphone without a price tag. The elderly cashier with a bushy mustache that would make Tom Selleck jealous squinted and placed his glasses from around his neck onto the bridge of his nose.

“Hundred-thirty.”

I grabbed it and a box of saltines, then checked out as he eyed my wad of cash. I’m sure many strange people came through here, but none as crazy as me to pay with a roll of twenties.

“Is there a bathroom around here?”

“Closed for maintenance. You’ll have to catch it at the next one.”

I sighed and nodded, tucking my cash back into my side pouch, then walked back into the main lobby and took a seat against the far wall where I had a view of the door and a charging port.

“Bus twenty, departing for Montreal, is now boarding,” a voice screeched through the overhead speakers.

“Shit.” I tucked my phone into my pocket and grabbed my bag, looking around for anyone suspicious, then headed out and stood in line with my ticket in hand.

I stared at the oversized Prevost and imagined it taking me to a new land I’d never seen before.

Alone.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I stifled the rest, causing a painful lump under my chin.

I shuffled forward as the ticket master tore tickets, letting one person on at a time.

It wasn’t fair that we didn’t even have a fair chance, but that’s what I got for thinking I could make the world a better place. Maybe that was God’s way of teaching me not to play judge and juror.

I sniffled and handed him my ticket. He took it and ripped a piece off with a barcode, then let me board.

My hips bumped each seat as I walked by, as though I played bumper cars with my sides. It jostled my belly until a cyclone formed in the pit of my stomach. Finding my seat, I plopped my ass next to the window and held my backpack to my chest like it was my lifeline.

And in a way, it was.

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