From the Backseat | ON INDEFINITE HOLD

xiii | Rhys

R H Y S 

"Don't look." Holland said. I'm looking out towards the duck pond and being chastised every time I move a muscle. Holland is sitting sideways in her swing with her camera up at her eye and the lens pointed towards me. "The light is perfect. Tilt your chin up, to the left a little bit. Good, stay right there."

She's been doing this for five minutes. I don't have the heart to tell her that I hate to have my picture taken because at least she's not crying anymore. She has a bit of mascara beneath her eyes and blotches of red dotted on her cheeks. She sniffles every once in a while but keeps herself busy with photographing me.

I feel awkward in front of the camera. I can hear the zooming in and out of focus and the shutter every time she takes a picture. I'm stiff, my eyes stuck on a single duck swimming in the water. I don't even breathe too deeply because I know she'll say something. I can see her bring the camera down from her face. She cradles it in her arms and goes through the pictures. There's a soft smile on her face and I know that sitting through this torture is worth it.

"Can I move?"

"Yeah, I got it." She said.

"Can I see?"

"No."

I relax my shoulders and place my hands on the chain links holding the swing up. I look toward Holland who is already looking towards me. "Why can't I see it?"

"I'll clean it up and print it out and then you can see it."

"Okay."

Holland stands from the swing and holds our her hand. I take it, threading my fingers through hers. Her cheeks redden and I chuckle. She's leading me towards the bus stop where I can see the familiar face of the driver as he makes his way towards us. She smiles at him when he lets us on and closes the door behind us. He makes a point of looking at our hands but doesn't say anything.

The bus starts to move when we're seated in the back. I sit beside Holland. who takes the window seat in the very back. I sit close enough to where my leg touches hers. She doesn't move away and I don't either, although I can see the color on her cheeks. It's almost become a game to see how many times we can make her blush in a single day.

The bus stops, letting on a heavy set man. He looks familiar, I remember seeing his packers jacket. "That's Cheesehead." Holland said. "Every day he wears that jacket. He's a retired professional football player, obviously for the packers. He has a large Superbowl ring on his finger. I don't know from which year. He likes doughnuts. I think he spent such a large part of his life staying in shape that all he wants to do now is eat doughnuts. He's married."

"How do you know that?" I asked. Cheesehead has both of his hands resting on the seat in front of him and he doesn't have a wedding ring on.

"She calls every once in a while.  I'm not sure where he goes every morning but he's always here." She said. Holland then points to a woman with tight curly hair. When Holland talks about her, she quiets her voice. "Curly Q Sue works at a bank. The large Chase bank downtown. I don't know why anyone hasn't told her that blue eye shadow doesn't work on anybody, but she likes it. And she's always wearing a pant suit, always black."

The next person to get on the bus is someone I recognize although I don't say so. "That's Nurse Nancy, she works at the hospital a few blocks down. She seems nice, she's always smiling at everybody. She says hi to me whenever I see her. She likes to get off at the Starbucks and then walk to the hospital. If I was every admitted, I would want her as my nurse."

I don't tell Holland that her name isn't Nancy. Her name is Lindsey. I don't tell her that I know her and when she sees me at the back and gives me a wave, I tell her she was right about her being nice. Holland glances at me, almost like she knows there is something else, but she doesn't say anything.