Bus Station - A Short Story

Children of Contempt

Unar always knew he was different. He didn't need to be reminded, he stood out enough for him to realise it. People stared enough to cause him to quicken his steps. He didn't like the stereotypes nor the name calling, but he had been dealing with it his entire life. Still, it hurt. He leaned against the wall, surveying the area. He stood in the shadows, few steps away from the people boarding the buses. He knew the exact amount of space to keep, not too far, so he sees his bus when it's ready to move and not too close that people start shifting awkwardly.

It was almost 9pm and the bus park was still bustling with life. One wouldn't even know the night has begun without checking the time. Lights flooded the place, the buses honking at each other and drivers having finally gotten the go ahead from whoever was in charge, were revving their engines. It was one of those nights. The ones you get in Nigeria during dry season, lots of stars and a full moon. The air chilly, reminding them that the harmattan was not yet over. Unar pulled at the sleeves of his shirt shivering a little in the cold night.

He heard a soft laughter and his eyes darted up immediately, searching for the source of the sound. His eyes met her and he was taken aback. She wore a large scarf thrown around her neck and shoulders, her jeans were cuffed a little above her ankles. He couldn't tell the colour of her scarf or sneakers from where he stood. The yellow lights from the headlights of one of the buses made her sneakers look purple. He watched her, as she rolled a travel bag behind her. She chuckled again raising her right hand to her hip and raising her right foot to rest on her toes. The male in front of her, the person she was talking to whom Unar thought lucky to have her laughter directed at him, had his hands in his pockets. He knew he shouldn't be staring, if she noticed him, she'd probably curl in disgust, but he couldn't stop.

Unar had seen beautiful people in his life. He had mostly oogled them from afar, she wasn't the most beautiful but there was something about her. A certain gracefulness with which she carried out simple tasks, like rolling her travel bag, gesturing as she talked, made him unable to tear his gaze away from her. He watched as the male she was speaking with pulled her into a hug. Unar forced his eyes to look elsewhere. He knew neither of them and his staring was strange enough as it was. As if on cue, a skinny man in a singlet and ragged jeans whom Unar figured was the conductor. He tapped on the bus with what Unar thought was a belt buckle.

"Abuja" He yelled, "Tickets now"

Unar stared at the bus behind him. GIG559H, was inscribed on the bus. He looked at the ticket in his hand.

GIG559H.

He pushed himself off the wall and headed towards the bus. He lowered his eyes and slung his bag over his right shoulder, pushing past people who were scrambling to find their buses. He cast one last glance at the girl, still enveloped in a hug with the male. He looked away, handing the bus conductor his ticket, the man tore it and handed the stub back to him. He climbed into the bus and headed to the last seats at the back of the bus. He kept his head down and barely acknowledged the people that came on to the bus. He sat with his hands in his laps trying not to look at the people boarding the bus. People ignored him, people stared at him, some stared with distaste, others with inquisitiveness, but none of them tried to talk to him. He shifted to the window, already noticing that the bus was almost full and people were expertly avoiding sitting next to him. He watched the people move around through the window. He saw the girl from earlier, walk past the bus but the male was not with her. He sighed hoping she was going to Abuja too. He didn't even know why he wished that. He knew that he wasn't going to speak to her and he imagined that if he did speak, she was just going to ignore him like others.

Unar had very few friends in his life. Most people in his school days had spoken to him because they were classmates, only to be polite or because they needed him for home work. The only real friend he could say he had was Amanam, who was the reason or at least part of the reason Unar was heading to Abuja. He'd met Amanam in school. Unar liked to think that the reason that he and Amanam were friends was because their lives were slightly similar. They were the outcasts of the school. Amanam was a child of rape and everyone in the little town they lived in knew. His mother had refused to abort the baby and Amanam was born. People spoke about Amanam in the tiny town he went to school in as much as they spoke about Unar. They were both teased for something they couldn't control, Unar for his skin and Amanam for his birth.

"Hi" A voice said as he felt a hand tap him, startling him. He almost jumped out of his seat. The voice laughed and he looked up.

Same girl, same face, same laugh.

"I'm sorry for startling you. I was wondering if you were saving the seat beside you for anyone"

Unar shook his head slowly.

She smiled, pushed her travel bag to the side and sat down beside him.

"Thank you" she said again. She was still smiling. Unar knew beautiful people. He'd watched them smile, but rarely ever was the smile directed at him, like it was right now.

She's just being polite, he reminded himself and he turned to face the window again as the engine started and the bus began to slowly move out of the park.

Beautiful people never smiled at him.