There’s a woman who always eats breakfast on the bus. She doesn’t ride every day, but when she does, she eats breakfast.
She’s younger than I am — thirtyish, I’d say, and she looks like she’s been through some stuff. You know, kind of pockmarked skin, and healed up piercings, and a hand done tattoo on her wrist. Now she’s got spiky dyed red hair, and just a few earrings, and she’s dressed in scrubs. She always gets off over by Fairview Hospital, so I think she works there. An MA is my guess; I feel like she draws blood for lab tests, and checks blood pressure. No injections — she doesn’t feel like a nurse to me. More like someone who went through the MA program when she was getting her life back on track. Maybe she’ll go to nursing school later.
Anyway, a few times a week, when I get on the 67 in the morning, she is there, in the seat I like — the one right behind the back door, where you have a good view of the whole bus, and no one sitting right in front of you. She slips out of the sleeves of her parka, and spreads a dish towel across her lap. Then she gets out her breakfast. She is often finishing her boiled egg by the time I see her, spreading a little jam on her toast. She has fruit too — I’ve seen an apple core, and a few stray berries in her little plastic tubs. Other days she’ll have sausage or bacon with scrambled eggs on a plate, that she eats neatly with a knife and fork. I’ve checked — there are never any crumbs or stains on her towel.
When we get across the river, she takes one last sip of her drink, and then packs away her dishes, putting any trash neatly in a little pouch. Then she folds up the towel, slips her arms back into her sleeves, and zips up the parka. By the time we get to the hospital, she’s bundled up with her backpack on. She slips out the backdoor of the bus, and then I lose sight of her.
I’d feel good about her taking my blood pressure. I think my blood pressure would be pretty low. I’d be looking at her spiky dyed hair and pockmarked face, and be glad that she’s doing so well these days.