The Bus Ride

"You did! I saw you. Smiling at me from your secret bullshit pervert fantasy!"

I was confused now; I shook my head. "No!"

"I wasn't good enough for you? Huh? After everything? You tell me you didn't want me? You bastard!"

Didn't want her? But I did. I opened my mouth to respond. She raced across the distance separating us, stepped in close, and slapped me. Hard. My head rocked to the side and I staggered sideways. It hurt so much. My ear rang loudly and I held my hand up to my face. More people stopped and stared at me.

"You could never hire ME! Never gonna happen! You bastard. You're filth. Just like all the others. Cheap, nasty, moralistic fucks. You had me fooled, you prick. What I'm too much trash for you?"

I couldn't follow her. My face hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. I had never been slapped before. Everyone on the sidewalk were turned and watching the drama. Eyes filled with disgust toward me. I was humiliated. Shocked. Hurt to my core. This woman who had meant so much to me was physically attacking me on the street and I hadn't done anything to deserve it. I couldn't defend myself. I was so alone and afraid.

She glared at me waiting for me to say anything. The hatred on her face and the anger was too much for me.

I had to get away. Away from her. She scared me deeply. I needed to hide. I took a step backward. I held my hands out toward her in case I had to hold her off. I stammered. "Maggie, I'm sorry. I don't understand any of this. I could never hire you because you meant so much more to me. I'm so sorry!"

I turned and ran into my building. I found an empty elevator waiting and I rushed inside and hit my floor. I collapsed against the back wall and sobbed. I smashed the close door button; afraid she would follow me in. I was beyond broken. I felt a panic attack coming. The doors opened on my floor and I rushed out into the empty corridor and fled to the bathroom. I entered a stall, sat, pulled my legs off the floor, and cried, unable to stop. The rage in her face was burned into my memory. The pure hatred in her eyes bore through me. I shook uncontrollably.

She knows where I work now, I realised. I'm not safe. She'll find me.

Depression has a way of fucking with normal thought processes. In those moments, Maggie became my enemy. I had to avoid her at all costs. I needed to find a way past her. Away from her. So, I planned and went into action. I was in survival mode.

I resigned my job. I didn't need the money I earned. My house was paid for thanks to my wife's life insurance. I only need a simple job to make ends meet. My specialty could be used elsewhere. I applied at a job-hunting firm and headed home by Uber. I couldn't risk the bus.

I pulled out my phone. Maggie had unblocked me. I refused to read more hate from her and blocked her and then deleted her contact info. The Uber pulled up into my driveway. The driver kept looking at the red hand mark on my face. I ducked my head, went through my house and out to my backyard and began to drink myself into oblivion.

* * *

Three months later I was feeling much better about myself. I was in a new job in the private sector and truthfully it was a better job than the public service. I was finally appreciated for my work and knowledge and I was promoted after only two weeks. I earned more than before and was able to drive to work now. I enjoyed free parking in the tech area. It was so much better than the bus.

My depression was finally under control and I felt much more positive. I thought of Maggie every now and then. I couldn't help myself. I had deleted all her pictures and videos and resigned myself to facing a quiet life of solitude. But she still popped into my thoughts. I had to fight myself to stop thinking about her. The thoughts led to her standing on the sidewalk, towering over me, rage filling her face.

When I could think of the scene calmly, I realised the whole incident still had me perplexed. I had been so honest with her and open. And she had suddenly flipped on me. Turned on me. She had slapped me with such violence and anger and in public. The humiliation had been horrible. Part of me hated her for that. I could never forgive her for that. I hadn't deserved it. No one did.

I read that a lot of women who are escorts suffer from mental problems. After time, I decided this must be what it was. Suffering from my own issues I finally felt pity for her. I hoped she found help.

* * *

After another two months I felt great about my life. I had discovered long distance running and ran every day. It cleared my head. I had quit smoking and ate much healthier. I lost ten pounds and then gained it back in muscle. I even found a shrink and attended sessions with her to help me deal with my depression. I was finally off the medication.

I still thought about Maggie. I had described the events with my psychiatrist. She was at a loss to explain it. She helped me deal with it, and with the loss of my wife. I found myself looking forward to sessions with her. She really helped me. Once she asked me if I ever tried to contact Maggie and seek closure. I shook my head. She seemed to think it would benefit me. I told her I had deleted her contact information and had no way to contact her. It was the only time I had lied to her. Truth was, I still remembered her website.

Despite my recovery I was afraid to visit her website. It would bring out all the memories which were now quietly at rest within me. There was no need to rip off the scabs. I knew the darkness that could return.

I then realised I was being a coward. The best way to confront your fears is to embrace them.

A few days later my mind kept returning to what my shrink had suggested. Perhaps I should contact Maggie and apologise for whatever I had done. Then I rationalised it. She would want me to apologise for what she thought I had done. Except I had no idea. It was a non-starter. I abandoned the idea and promised myself never to consider it again.

A week later, as I lay in bed, I found myself watching the porn movie Maggie and I had shared. I came back to it often and hated myself for it. Like a moth to a flame, I suppose.

Suddenly I had to see her again. At least her image. I typed in the url for her website and hit return. The screen filled and there she was. Still an escort. Her website hadn't changed. I clicked her gallery and scrolled through her pictures. My heart lurched and I closed the laptop.

I rolled over and cursed myself. That was a stupid thing to do. Depression fluttered at the edges of my thoughts.

The next night I opened her web site again. I avoided her gallery. I looked at the menu bar and then saw the new entry. The menu title was simply 'Dave'. I stared at my name in horror. Has she created a hate page about me?

I moved the mouse and clicked the menu option. A pop-up appeared asking for a password. Below the password entry box were the words "Netflix Date Night Title".

She had password protected it and then gave a hint to something only I would know? What was going on?

I typed in 'Jessica Jones' and hit enter.

[Wrong Password]

Maybe it's a different Dave and another show, I thought. Did she flirt with other clients the same way she had with me?

I typed in "jessica jones' all lowercase and hit return.

[Wrong Password]

I tried 'JessicaJones', 'jessicajones', and variations of it. It all came back [Wrong Password].

I even tried 'Luke Cage' and the Pornhub video title.

[Wrong Password]

A different Dave, then. I felt sorry for him, whoever he was. I closed the browser and went to sleep.

For the next week I wondered about the website and the special 'Dave' area. It drove me crazy, and I lost sleep. My shrink noticed something was up, but I kept it hidden. I could see her annoyance.

Finally, in desperation, I added Maggie back into my contacts, and unblocked her. I typed in a sentence, hesitated, and then hit send. I felt panic flutter at my consciousness.

[tell me the password. That's it. Nothing else]

I waited. Dammit, why'd I do that? My heart was thumping painfully in my chest. Fear rose thick and bitter inside me. I picked up the phone and went to block her again when a reply came back. I saw the message, cursed my stupidity, and blocked her just as another text came in.

I ran upstairs to my computer, opened the website, clicked 'Dave' and entered the password 'jessica_jones'. Who uses underscores anymore?

The screen loaded. At the top were the words: 'Please watch these and contact me, Dave. I'm sorry.' Ugh, she used comic sans-serif.

Under the words were a series of video icons. They were numbered 1 through 20.

I opened the first one. Maggie's face filled the screen. She had been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. She looked like shit. I pressed play.

"Dave, I hope you find this. I've left it for you. I'm sorry. So sorry. I fucked up. I misunderstood. Please contact me! Please! Let me explain!"

She started crying and the video ended.

She fucked up? She's sorry?

I opened the second one. This must've been taken right after the first one. This time her nose was a little runny. I pressed play.

"Sorry, I had to cry again. Dave, please contact me. I'm so sorry. When I asked you why you didn't book me, I misunderstood your reply. I shouldn't have blocked you and asked for an explanation. It hurt me so bad! I thought you were so different and then my fears came true. I thought you meant you didn't want me because I'm an escort." She broke down and started crying again. The video ended.

I opened video three. She continued.

"I can't stop crying. I hurt so bad. When I saw you on the bus that day and sat next to you. I saw my contact information on your screen. I was shocked. I looked at you, saw you were bald under the hat, and with the goatee, I knew it was you! Then I remembered you smiling at me on the bus all those times. I had noticed you. Remembered you. You were so cute. Forty something but dressing like a younger man. I got so angry. So angry. I moved away before I did something. Then you strolled off the bus, and I got really angry. I followed you off the bus. I'm sorry I slapped you! I'm..."

The video ended. I started four. She had her head lowered and raised it, wearily. She tried to smile at the camera but failed.

"I'm so tired of crying. Okay. I'm sorry I slapped you." Her chin quivered for an instant. "Then you backed away from me. I can still see the fear in your eyes! At the time I felt so strong seeing that expression. Vindicated. Then you said those words and ran away. You ran from me! I...I..."

The video ended again. I started the next one.

"You ran. I almost laughed and then your words sunk in. You said you couldn't be with me as an escort because I meant more to you than that! I...I..." She broke down sobbing and fumbled for the camera. The video ended.

I started five, thinking she should have just edited these together. She took a deep breath. She had cleaned herself up a little and blown her nose.

"Whew. Okay. No more crying. No more. Dave, I hoped you're still listening. I understand your text now. What you wrote. There was more to it. I should have let you finish. I fucked up. I was waiting for something like that. My exposure to men has revealed a really nasty side to them. They will say anything, everything to get in my pants. You weren't like that. You wanted me!" Her chin quivered. "Me! Not the escort. Not the hook... hooker. Me!" She sobbed a minute with her head lowered. She looked back up, tears streaking down her face. "I want you, Dave. Please come back to me. I'm so sorry!"

The video ended and I rocked back in my seat. Months of therapy warned me about getting back with her. My shrink has warned me about abusive women. That they can be as bad as a man. Dominating. Violent. She had nearly destroyed my life. No, I had nearly destroyed my life, but had all this been a misunderstanding?

My mind flashed back to her charging me, slapping me, screaming at me. Calling me filth. The open hatred in her eyes. The loathing. I pushed away from the computer and ran to the bathroom. I skidded to a halt over the toilet and threw up violently. I heaved until there was nothing left.

I wished I hadn't opened the website. I was not ready for this. There should have been hope for me. A return of longing. A happy ending. Instead, I felt worse. I hadn't done anything wrong, now I knew that was true. I searched myself for any feelings for Maggie. They were gone. She had slapped them away and frightened me so deeply, I could never return to any feelings I once had.

I rinsed out my mouth. Then brushed my teeth. Eventually I returned to the computer. I had to see the rest.

I sat down and played them one after another. They spanned the months. I watched her hair change styles, her clothes change, and her happy demeanour return. They all ended with her asking me to contact her. Pleading with me.

Below the videos was her phone number and a simple line of text asking me to call her.

I watched the videos again and then shut down the computer.

I called her the next day from my phone. It took me forever to build up the courage. But I eventually dialled the number. She picked up in one ring.

"Dave? Dave? Is that you? Oh, thank God!"

I was worried hearing her voice on the phone would change my mind. It didn't.

"Hi, Maggie."

"Did you watch the videos?"

"Yes, I did."

"I'm so sorry, Dave. I was horrible, horrible. I'm so sorry."

"I see."

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Anything? No."

The line went silent. "Nothing?"

"No, why would there be? There's nothing to say."

"Don't you want me, Dave? I'm sorry, so sorry!"

"Want you? I did. All those months ago."

"Please, Dave! Please! I need you!"

"Need me? Maggie, you attacked me in public. Humiliated me. You scared the crap out of me. You charged at me and accused me of something I hadn't done. The rage in your eyes! I will never forget that..."

"Let me explain!" she interrupted.

"No, just listen. Just listen for once. You broke me that day. My depression came back, a depression so deep I thought I was lost. All my angst from the death of my wife flooded back. It took me months to recover who I was. Hours of therapy. You attacked me! That was so much worse."

"It was just a slap!"

I growled. "Just a slap? What if the roles were reversed? What if I had stormed off the bus screaming obscenities at you, charged at you, and then slapped you? Do you think I wouldn't be in jail right now? No one on the street moved to help me. No one called the police. No one! It wasn't just a slap. It was an assault. I didn't deserve that."

"No, please, Dave, listen, I..."

"I'm better than this..." I hung up and then blocked her.

I felt a weight come off me. I looked up from the park bench at the small pond across from me. The first of the Fall leaves were floating randomly on the surface pushed by the light breeze. I put my earphones back in my ears and re-opened my running app and hit continue. My playlist resumed and I ran off down the path, pounding the pavement with my new running shoes, and relishing my new energy levels.

I felt free.

THE END

Author's Final Note:

If you read the comments from readers (and check out the scoring of <4), this is not a favourite for most people. I understand that. I even warned people before reading the story that's its not a happy one. Despite this, a lot of people want me to write a happier ending, or a sequel that sees Maggie and Dave somehow get back together.

It's never going to happen.

I republished this on Literotica to better marry to my published version. There are minor changes, but you can see the last added paragraph. It sums up Dave nicely, in my opinion. He finally broke the chain and released himself from his own internal issues. It is a happy ending. I really think so. He's still broken but finding his own peace, of sorts.

Guaranteed happy endings are not how life works. Sometimes you meet toxic people and become trapped in a relationship with them. I wanted this story to explore that and how, with help, you can escape and find your own freedom in your life.

People are messy. Emotions make us that way. Sometimes we click. Sometimes we don't. Sometimes we want someone in our lives so badly that we are willing to accept anything at all. Love is a drug. An addictive one. Sometimes what we think is love is actually an unhealthy infatuation, or the need for someone to dominate another. Sometimes people love you so wrongly, they will do and say anything to keep you. Be cautious out there and please stay safe. Find someone who loves you equally and without judgment and you might be the writer of your own happy ending.