A Secret-Driven Journey

There was a small girl sitting on the bus, towards the back. She had a window seat, but she left her window closed. Her long brown hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, but dark strands curled up and framed her pale face. She was perched atop a suitcase, clutching a well-loved teddy bear and looking out the window. Her feet didn't touch the floor, and underneath them lay a small knapsack. She had gotten there long before the bus was to depart, and was settled in for her long journey, staring blankly at the people passing by. As departure time grew nearer, the bus grew fuller and fuller until the only seat left was the one next to this little girl. An elderly woman boarded the bus and stood hovering over that one last empty seat, looking curiously at the girl over the tops of her spectacles.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed. "What's a young girl like you doing all by herself on a bus to Greenrock? Why, you can't be a day over eleven! I have a granddaughter your age, and I'd never let her...."

"Actually," she whispered, cutting the woman off, "I'm fourteen. And could you please keep it down?" Her dark blue eyes were pleading. "I told them I was sixteen, just small for my age. That's how old you have to be to ride this bus alone."

The woman took the seat, putting her large woven handbag on her lap. The little girl looked nervously towards her, hoping she wouldn't tell the driver and get her kicked off the bus. The woman, however, remained silent and took some knitting out of her bag, quickly absorbing herself in the knots and twists of the yarn.

Eventually, the woman looked back at the girl. She was still looking out the window, watching the lights of the cars as the road passed them by. The girl glanced sideways, noticing the woman's gaze, and quickly looked back out the window. The woman pretended she was looking outside.

"My name is Joan," she said. "What's yours, girl?" The girl, surprised out of her road-watching trance, turned to face her.

"I'm Bethany," she said quietly. After an awkward silence, they both went back to what they had been doing-Joan picking at her knitting and Bethany staring aimlessly out the window, lost in her own troubles.

"Well," Joan spoke up again, obviously frustrated with her knitting. "If we're going to be on this bus for Lord-knows how many hours, we might as well find something to talk about." Bethany looked at her nervously. She didn't feel much like making conversation. She just wanted to get where she was going and go to sleep in a warm bed.

"Um..." she said, finally, as Joan stared at her expectantly.

"So where are you goin' to all by your lonesome, miss Bethany?"

"M..my friend's." Bethany really didn't want to get into it. She had been told she was wrong enough times to know to keep her mouth shut.

"Your momma and daddy let you go all the way to Greenrock by yousself to see a friend?" Joan was amazed. She had figured she was going to visit a grandparent, maybe, or an aunt and uncle's house.

"Um...not exactly." Bethany also hated lying, but that's what got her into so much trouble in the first place. Joan peered curiously at Bethany.

"You ain't a runaway, now is you?" she said accusingly.

"N..no," the girl stammered.

"Well, I can see this ain't gon' do us no good to talk about. I'm goin' to Saxon Hill to visit my son and my two beautiful granddaughters. This knittin' here is supposed to be a scarf for the older one. Now, I've knitted hundreds of things and a scarf is pretty easy, but the light on this bus just ain't good enough for these old eyes to work with. I got the littler one some ribbons for her hair. Blue looks so good on her, and she just loves playin' with her pigtails." Joan talked for quite a while, all about her family and what they all did for a living, and about each of the children. Bethany just listened and thought.

"Now tell me again how you got to be goin' on this bus all by yousself." Bethany was starting to feel more comfortable around the woman. As brash as she had sounded, she really was a very nice woman, and after all she had just heard, Bethany felt like she knew her. The girl felt tired and alone, and she really wished she had someone she could just talk to. "Maybe," she thought, "Maybe I'll try. Maybe I can talk to someone. Maybe it was just my parents and my town and...." So she tried.

"I was kicked out of my house because I have a secret. My parents told me I was never allowed to come back, or to speak to them or my sisters again. They don't love me anymore, even though I told them the truth."

"Well now, that's a pretty awful thing to do. Let yer own daughter go running around the streets...And they call themselfs parents! Nothing could make me--or any real momma," she paused, "Or any real human bein'-- stop loving a child. That's nonsense. You poor dear."

"I don't know...they were really upset. They changed the locks. One of my friends helped me get back into my house and get my stuff, but he said his parents wouldn't let me stay with them. Eventually I stayed at my friend Karen's house that night until I could get a bus and figure out somewhere to go."

"Well that sure seems like overreactin' a bit. Now girl, what on earth did you tell them that everyone kept kickin' you out?" Bethany looked at her nervously.

"I...Promise you won't hurt me?" Joan nodded, and Bethany kept talking quickly. "No one at camp ever thought it was a bad thing. But at home...it was different. I...I'm gay." She sighed.

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of, girl. Its not like you can help it or something. You didn't choose to be gay like I didn't choose to be black. I guess that doesn't stop much, though.... So you know this friend will keep you safe?"

"Yeah. She has two moms. They'll understand. I made sure I was welcome after they knew about me this time. See, I took a bus to my girlfriend's house. I had met her at camp. Everything was fine, until her parents figured us out. I guess she hadn't told them about us. They let me stay in the guest room, but every now and then I'd go and sleep in Jamey's bed. Sleeping next to her was so warm and comfy. But I don't think her parents liked the idea at all. They said I was corrupting their daughter and they were sorry but I couldn't stay with them any longer. Jamey begged and cried, but I just packed my stuff up and left. That was yesterday."

"You poor girl." Joan patted her on the back. "I know what its like to be hated for something you can't choose to get rid of. Be proud. If you stay proud, and you hope real hard, maybe one day things will change. You've got a long trip ahead of you. Rest your eyes and let me tell you a story." Joan told her she knew about being "different." "At least," she said, "It isn't the first thing someone notices about you. You've got a chance to get by without showing your secret to everyone. Mine was a little bit harder to hide." Joan laughed, pointing to her arm. She told her all about growing up as a black woman and she told her the stories her mother had told her. Eventually Bethany dozed off to sleep. When she woke up, it was only fifteen minutes until Joan's stop.

"Well, I hope you're all right where yer going to, girl." Joan said and smiled. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll give you my address. Write me a letter." She searched around in her bag for a pen.

"I don't have anything for you to write on," said Bethany. "Everything's in my suitcase. All I've got in my knapsack is a pair of pajamas."

Joan took pulled a ribbon out of her bag. She wrote her address along it and asked to see Bethany's teddy bear. She tied the ribbon around its neck and made a bow.

"There," she said, "Now you won't lose it." The bus stopped, and Joan got off. Bethany leaned back in her seat and watched Joan walk by outside. The station was dark, and when the bus started moving again, she fell back to sleep.

Bethany never got to thank Joan for all the stories she told, and for just giving her someone to talk to. The bear got lost among the things her friend's family gave her, pushed aside as most toys are as children grew up. Bethany never forgot Joan, though. She had given the girl the best gift possible-hope. She never told anyone, either, about the old black woman who talked to her the entire way to Saxon Hill. It was her own personal secret, and it was stronger that way. Every time she thought about telling someone, the words just sounded funny in her head. Joan's stories had to be told in Joan's voice, not that of a young lesbian. It was those stories, however, that guided Bethany through her teenage years. As she grew older, she fought for gay rights every way she knew how. Her friend's moms helped her out. At one of the rallies they planned, Bethany met a wonderful woman and fell deeply in love. When they were packing together their things to move into their new house, Bethany stumbled across an old teddy bear with a blue ribbon around its neck. She took out a piece of paper and quickly began scrawling.

"There was a small girl sitting on the bus..."