She Grinned

I noticed her because no one was giving up their seat. She struggled up the little step, hand supporting lower back, belly stretched to maximum. I was appalled at people’s selfishness. Over here, I called, and got to my feet. She gave me a sighy sort of smile and slid into my seat with unexpected elegance. She was pretty, I noticed then. The bus was its typical rush hour self and I was forced to turn towards her. Stomach pointing at her chin, knuckles white around the metal bar over her head because I didn’t trust the driver. My head crammed up against the roof and nowhere to look but down. At her. I studied the parting in her hair for the next few minutes. No roots that I could see: a natural blonde, for once. She had her hands wrapped around her stomach as if to keep it in place that way. She rubbed it absentmindedly. For a reason I couldn’t fathom, I felt a stab of attraction then. Bizarre, I thought. What’s wrong with you? But she looked so full of life. Suddenly the bus turned sharply and she fell out of her seat. I could feel the panic rippling out from her. I grabbed her arms to steady her and she looked up sheepishly. But as her eyes met mine, she halted her expression. She was on to me. And I was about to look away but spotted the sparkle in her eye. So what, I thought. I looked straight at her. I saw the lilac in her eyes. And she grinned unabashedly, with laughter in her posture and appreciation in her smile. So I grinned back.

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