Mac and Me

"Promise not to laugh Abby?" Mac said. "You have to promise not to tell any of those goobers on the bus either."

"Cross my heart," I said solemnly.

"Mackenzie," Mac said while scrunching up her face.

"Mackenzie? I love that name!" I said excitedly, much to Mac's dismay.

"You take it then, because I like Abby better."

"Do you mind if I call you Mackenzie?" I asked her. "I mean, not when we're on the bus, but if we ever are together at other times?"

"Sure, I mean I sure hope we're going to see each other a whole lot more Abby, because I really like you."

I felt my eyes mist up at that point as I tried to think of the last time someone had said that to me, but I guess my memory isn't what it used to be.

"I like you too, Mackenzie," I managed to choke out with a smile. "I don't have many friends. Any friends, I mean. Not real ones."

"Yes, you do," Mac said as she put her hand on mine.

"Gee, I almost forgot!" I said before skipping out of the kitchen and going to get my pocketbook.

I had forgotten something, but I also had to leave the room before I broke down in front of Mac and made a complete ass of myself. Someone goes to pieces just because a person calls them their friend, and it would probably make you a little squeamish, wondering what they heck they were getting themselves into.

I came back into the kitchen, sat back down next to Mac and pulled a little bag out of my purse. Mac had looked at a refrigerator magnet with a beer mug attached to it when we went through a housewares store and gotten a kick out of it, so I doubled back when she wasn't looking and bought it for her.

"Oh Abby, why'd you go and do that for?" Mac asked when she took it out of the bag.

"It's nothing. I just wanted to give you something to thank you for taking me shopping," I told Mac, who actually seemed touched as she looked at the little $5 trinket, making me glad that I had gotten it.

"You're so sweet," Mac said, and she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "I'll gladly take you anywhere, anytime Abby."

I wasn't planning on being a burden to anyone, especially someone as nice as Mac, but that was nice of her to offer. I smiled and thanked her as I struggled to get comfortable in the chair. My back was aching a little from all the walking, and the kitchen chairs were no help.

"What's wrong?" Mac asked as I fidgeted.

"Ah, my back. I'm not used to all that walking around," I said while arching my spine and twisting around. "I think I've got something wrong with my back anyway. It's just as screwed up as the rest of me."

"It doesn't help that you slouch instead of standing up straight," Mac said. "I've got an idea. Why don't you get your clothes off and I'll give you a massage."

I exploded with laughter at that, but when I looked at Mac she was dead serious.

"God, I'd never gross anybody out like that," i said laughing. "Even my doctor probably wishes I'd keep my clothes on."

"Even when the world isn't putting you down, you have to pile it on yourself, don't you Abby?" Mac asked. "I'm not going to laugh when you go putting yourself down like that, no matter how funny you can be at times, and I was dead serious about the massage. I did some physical therapy work a few years back and I know how to help with back pain."

So it was that I found myself sitting sideways in the chair while Mac came behind me and began massaging me with my blouse on. As her fingers bagan probing into my bony body, I could actually feel my muscles begin to loosen up.

"Wow, this is nice," I said. "A physical therapist, a bus driver, and you were a truck driver at one time too, right?"

"I worked as a hotwalker for a thoroughbred horse trainer one summer at Saratoga, and I've been an auto mechanic from time to time in the past," she threw in.

"A woman of many talents," I said in awe.

"Master of none, though. I just don't want to mess up your blouse, because it's so pretty," Mac said in reference to the white blouse with vertical crimson stripes that I had pulled out of my archives. Something with short sleeves that I seldom wore, mainly because I was so self-conscious about the downy hair that covered my forearms, yet another one of nature's gifts to me.

"It's old, don't worry about it. Besides, it would be worth it because this feels so good," I remarked. It did feel incredible, even with Mac working through the blouse and around my bra straps, and I wished that this one time I was the kind of person that could take off their clothes in front of others and get a real massage.

"Told ya you would like it!" Mac said.

"You can stop whenever you get tired," I reminded her.

"I'd never get tired of doing this," Mac said as she worked her way down my spine. "You feel so nice, and I love being able to get to know you like this."

"I ran in and threw this blouse on when I saw you coming across the street dressed so beautifully," I suddenly confessed. "You should have seen me before then. I looked like a bum."

"Doesn't matter to me," Mac said. "You know what you should have done today was bought that dress you were looking at in Macy's. You would have looked great in that."

"No, me and dresses aren't a good match."

"Nonsense," Mac snapped. "You wore a dress in December, and I thought you looked beautiful."

I searched my memory to recall when I had worn a dress because I rarely did.

"Oh! The office holiday party," I blurted out as I remembered the occassion.

"Was that why you wore it? All I remember is that you knocked me out when I saw you in it, and I watched you when you got off the bus and walked down the street. I even sat through a green light staring at you because you looked so great. You've got absolutely amazing legs."

"Yuck! Skinny chopsticks!"

"No way, Abby. Your legs are great and don't seem to ever end. Take the compliment and smile."

"Okay!" I said in concession. "Anyway, I don't feel comfortable in dresses. Besides, I would have to shave my legs to wear 'em,!" I said with a chuckle.

"Not on my account you don't," Mac said as my shoulders got the most wonderful kneading imaginable. I leaned forward with my elbows on the kitchen table and felt my neck crack as Mac's hands worked magic.

"Besides, I love furry girls," Mac said in a husky whisper, and as she said that her hands slid down my shoulders and slowly glided down my arms all the way to my wrists. As Mac's hands came back up my arms, the hairs stood straight up, making me look like a porcupine. My arms were wall-to wall goose bumps in the wake of Mackenzie's touch, and as Mac leaned forward the back of my head was nestled between her very prominent breasts.

"Makes me kinda curious whether you're furry all over," Mac breathed into my ear while her hands slid up the insides of my arms. Mackenzie's fingernails lightly scraped the sensitive skin as they slowly glided under the loose sleeves of my blouse, just about to find out that I was indeed furry all over.

I am not stupid, although it may sound that way to listen to me. I am naive, that much I freely admit, and that is the reason that I was completely stunned when this happened, because it was absolutely the furthest thing from my mind.

As Mac's hands traveled up my arms I bolted upright and raced toward the sink, rattling some things that were in the sink while trying to catch my breath and figure out what had just happened back at the table. When I turned around Mac was still standing there, and the hurt look on her face was all I needed to see.

"I'm sorry," I choked out. "I'm not used to... I mean that... don't get touched too much."

"My fault Abby," Mac said. "I think we had a... what's that phrase from Cool Hand Luke? We had a failure to communicate or something like that. I misread you or something like that. I didn't mean to upset you, and I'm really sorry. Please don't be mad at me."

I had screwed up royally, and now the only person that I really liked in the world was heading toward the door, and things would never be the same. I walked behind Mac as she left, looking for words or anything that would make this all better.

"No hard feelings, okay Abby?" Mac asked me as she stepped outside.

"No, Mackenzie, you don't understand," I said as I felt my eyes begin to well up with tears. "I'm not... I'm confused. I'm not a..."

"It's okay Abby, don't get upset."

I stood there with the door open as Mac went down the first step of the porch before turning around and looking at me. Mackenzie was wearing a weak smile when she came back toward me, reaching up and wiping the tears off my cheeks.

"I have to do something that I've wanted to do for almost a year now," Mac said. "Since I'll never get the chance to do it again, I guess I better do it now, since you can't get any more down on me than you already are."

I stood frozen in the doorway as Mackenzie took my face in her hands and brought her lips up to mine. The kiss lasted only a couple of seconds, and then Mackenzie was gone, quickly walking down the steps and into her truck. I watched her drive down the street until the twinkle of her tailights disappeared from sight.

I somehow made it back to my kitchen table, but when I saw that silly magnet sitting on the table next to Mac's coffee cup, I lost it. I leaned against the wall and melted down, crying uncontrollably as I slid down to the floor where I sat for a long time, as confused and frightened as I had ever been in my life.

...

Chapter 5. The next week.

I sat around the apartment all day Sunday, feeling miserable. I jumped up each time the phone rang, but the first time was a telemarketer, and the second time was my weekly phone call from Mom. She probably sensed that something was wrong but thankfully she didn't press me for details. After all these years she was probably used to moping Abby and her trials and tribulations by now anyway.

I didn't go to work Monday, and when I called in sick it must have sent shock waves throughout the office. I called in Tuesday as well, and later in the day the big cheese called me. I was pissed at first because most of the other people in the unit took days off every chance they got without a peep, but when he explained that everyone was worried because I never called in sick, I got over it.

"Nine years of perfect attendance," the head honcho informed me while praising my work ethic. I was encouraged to take as much time as I needed, but I knew I would be going back in to work the next day. Sitting around the house was not a good idea for me, because having happy hour every night made for a bad habit to begin to take up.

I went in to work on Wednesday. When quitting time came around I went to the building lobby and looked across the street at my bus, Mac's bus. waiting there at the corner like always until departing at 4:35. I stood there in the lobby peeking around a pillar until Mac pulled away at 4:37.

There was another bus that left a half hour later so I went outside and sat on a bench and waited while reading the paper. When the 5:05 arrived and I boarded it, I felt like I was in another world. A different driver, different bus and a bunch of people that I had never seen before.

The bus ride home was horrible, and I felt almost like a traitor of sorts in riding that bus. I was also being quite silly even by my standards, because I knew I couldn't go on avoiding Mac like this for the rest of my life.

More importantly, I didn't want to avoid Mac, not at all. So the next afternoon I got on the bus, albeit sheepishly, much in the same old manner I used to. Mac's eyes lit up when she saw me, and she sang another line of "Dear Abby" while I tried and failed to swipe my fare card through the machine the first 5 times I tried it.

"Sorry... I've been sick," I stammered before retreating toward the middle of the bus.

"Summer colds are the worst, Abby," Mac said as she looked closely at me through the rear view mirror.

I sat quietly during the ride, and was tempted to not get up and help Mrs. Rogers get off at her stop, but I did, and when I got back on the bus I hesitated before finally sitting in the seat Mrs. Rogers had occupied, just like always.

Soon I was the last person on the bus, and my stop was coming up fast. I wanted to say something but my mind was a blank as I searched for something to say. A problem which I had not experienced recently with Mac until now.

"Dear Abby's a quiet gal tonight," Mac finally said in breaking the painful silence. "Must be you're either still sick, or your mind is working over-time."

"Um," I said as my voice cracked, making me sound like Marge Simpson for a second. "Would it be alright if I called you up and talked to you? Or you could call me if you'd rather?"

"Got something to say Abby?"

"No... yes. I just want to, you know."

"I understand completely," Mac said as she chortled at my gibberish. "What time should I come over?"

"Er, no. I mean you can call," I said. "It's not anything that's anything."

"Abby, I can't understand anything you're saying and you're sitting two feet from me," Mac replied. "So I can't imagine listening to you not say whatever it is you're trying to say on the phone. What time, Abby? Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you again or anything."

"I'm not... and you didn't. I'm just..."

"How about seven thirty?" Mac asked as the bus ground to a halt at my stop.

"Okay," I managed as I stood up.

...

Chapter 6. Mac's second visit.

I paced the floor for an hour and a half, unable to eat anything or even think about eating, my stomach tied up in knots at the prospect of Mackenzie's visit. I made a pot of coffee and watched the clock tick onward, and even with me staring at the clock I still jumped out of my skin when the doorbell rang.

Mac looked really nice, wearing jeans and a dark blue blouse that really set off her blonde hair nicely. How different Mac looked away from the bus, I thought to myself. She dressed so nicely, and wore things that accentuated her dynamic features rather than disguised them. Mac was big and tall, and not only didn't she care if you knew it, she pretty much insisted you did. Nice to have that kind of confidence.

"Hello Abigail," Mac said formally and stuck out her hand.

I burst out laughing at that, realizing that the puss I probably had on made me look like I was at a funeral or something. I gave her a little hug, shying away a bit at the feeling of her breasts against mine, and walked with her into the kitchen where we poured our coffee and sat down.

"Well Abby, it seems like this is where we left off the last time," Mac said.

"It's not the same pot of coffee," I added, and Mac's hoarse chuckle calmed my nerves a bit.

"That still would have been better than the way mine comes out," Mac added. "So what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

I stared at the kitchen table for a second, pushing a few stray granules of sweetener around with my finger, before I jumped up and went over to the counter. I returned with the kitchen magnet I had gotten Mac last weekend, and handed it to her before sitting back down.

"Oh yeah, I forgot this last time," Mac said as she looked at the little beer mug, turning it around in her hands with a little smile breaking in the corners of her mouth. "I'm trying to figure out how you would have handed it to me over the phone like you wanted to."

"I'm an idiot," I said. "Look, I didn't mean to jump away from you last Saturday. "I just didn't know. I didn't have any idea."

"You didn't know I was a lesbian?" Mac said with a look of wonder on her face. "Abby darlin', it's practically tattooed on my forehead. I'm the most obvious lesbian in the world!"

"I'm sorry!" I said as my brave front started cracking on me. "I never thought of you that way. I just thought you were a woman, a friend."

"Well, I am that too," Mac said. "At least I thought I was."

"No, I mean I never looked at you in a sexual way. I just thought you were... oh shit! I don't know what I'm talking about," I finally admitted.

"Well, I looked at you as a woman, and I looked at you as a friend," Mac admitted. "I also looked at you in a sexual way, as you put it. I thought you were looking at me that way too. That was my mistake, I guess. I just thought that you had been looking at me differently, especially lately."

"Differently?" I asked in confusion. "How?"

"Checking me out," Mac said. "I thought I caught you looking me over after you came up front a few times. Nothing really obvious, but just little stuff while I was driving."

"Oh!," I said trying to think about what Mac was referring to. "Well, I always think it's amazing how fast you take that turn getting onto the interstate, and I guess I've looked at your arms, because I think it's great that woman can be that strong to handle the bus like that."

"Piece of cake," Mac said smiling. "I was just putting on a show for you."

"And sometimes when you turn the wheel like that, your uniform sleeve slides up your arm, and I've been trying to get a better look at the tattoo you have on your bicep, because I think it looks really neat," I confessed.

"My chain?" Mac said and pulled the sleeve on her blouse up, revealing the purple chain links that encircled her bicep. "All you had to do was ask, darlin'"

"Oh yeah, that's so cool!" I said. "And I love the way you wear your hair so short most of the time, and I wish I had the nerve to do that, but you can get away with it because your ears are really cute, and I've got Dumbo ears."

"Keep going Abby," Mac said, as she looked at me very amused.

"Well," I continued and then realized what I had been doing and finished my sentence in an embarrassed and diminishing voice. "You've also got a tattoo of a rose on your right ankle that I can see sometimes when your pant leg rides up and or your sock slides down."

The end of that sentence was barely audible as my voice continued to trail off, and you could almost feel the weight of the silence that followed as I stared into my coffee cup, thinking about other ways I had looked at Mac, subconsciously or not. Finally I summoned enough courage to look up at Mac.

"Well," Mac said after clearing her throat. "At least now we know that you weren't checking me out."

My face burned with embarrassment, much like being caught with my hand in the cookie jar, but at least when that happened you already knew damn well what you were up to.

"I'm sorry ,Mackenzie," I said.

"I'm not, and neither are you," Mac said as she got up and refilled our coffees for us before she continued. "Let me tell you about you."

"Okay."

"I saw this young woman who rode the Schenectady Express when I first took over the route last year, Mac said. "She was tall and pretty, but always tried to hide her beauty. I could see it though, as plain as day."

"I tried to get her to open up around me, and I really began to make progress, or so I thought," Mac continued. "Especially last year around the holidays, when she gave me a Christmas present."

A Christmas present? I racked my mind trying to think about what Mac was talking about. Then it finally hit me!

"The cookies," I said quietly. Every year around the holidays I would spend a week baking cookies to give to everybody at work, along with people like my mailman and my bus driver.

"The cookies," Mac nodded. "When you handed them to me I was so excited you wouldn't believe it. I opened them up on Christmas Eve like it was the only present under my tree, and it would have been, if I had a tree that is. I sat with that tin of cookies on my kitchen table and was so happy I can't describe it. It had been a lousy year, and I thought that things were finally coming around for me."

"You'll think this is stupid but I'll tell you anyway," Mac said. "Christmas Day I got all dressed up and spent a couple hours driving around this area, hoping to see you so I could stop and pretend that I just happened to be passing through."