Chapter 2 - A Calm Voice in the Crowd
The mother planted herself in front of the young man as though the matter had already been decided.
“Are you going to move or not?”
Her older daughter stared at the floor. The little boy pressed his face against her coat, clearly frightened by the attention surrounding them.
The young man looked toward the front of the bus.
The driver had glanced into the mirror but had not interfered. He was trying to navigate through heavy traffic while listening to the growing argument behind him.
“I heard you,” the young man said.
“Then why are you still sitting?”
His voice remained low.
“Because I need the seat.”
The answer caused another wave of whispers.
A silver-haired woman near the window turned sharply.
“You need it?” she repeated. “You’re eighteen.”
The young man did not respond.
The mother laughed bitterly.
“There. Everyone heard him. He thinks he needs the seat more than two small children.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to say it. Your actions say enough.”
The bus slowed at a red light.
For a moment, the engine vibrated beneath the floor while rain began tapping against the windows.
The young man lowered his gaze to his legs.
His left foot was positioned strangely, turned slightly inward. Beneath the loose fabric of his dark trousers, something rigid pressed against the material near his knee.
No one looked closely enough to notice.
The mother moved even nearer.
“A real man would already be standing.”
The young man’s jaw tightened.
“My being a man has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, now you’re offended?”
“No.”
“You certainly look offended.”
“I’m tired.”
“So am I,” she snapped. “Do you think raising children is easy?”
The little girl tugged her sleeve again.
“Mom, it’s okay. I can stand.”
“No, sweetheart. It is not okay.”
She looked around the bus, inviting the passengers to support her.
“This is what happens when nobody teaches young people respect.”
Several passengers nodded.
A man carrying a newspaper spoke from across the aisle.
“Son, just give her the seat. It’s not worth causing trouble.”
The young man studied him for several seconds.
Then he asked quietly, “Would you give her yours?”
The man immediately looked away.
“My knees are bad.”
A strange silence followed.
The young man turned to the elderly woman who had criticized him.
“And yours?”
She frowned.
“I’m nearly seventy.”
He glanced toward a healthy office worker seated behind her.
The man suddenly became interested in his phone.
The young man looked back at the mother.
“You chose me because I look young.”
“I chose you because you are young.”
“You don’t know anything else about me.”
“I know enough.”
The bus began moving again.
The young man reached for the metal handrail beside him.
His fingers wrapped around it so tightly that his knuckles whitened.
He slowly shifted forward.
For a second, it seemed as though he would remain seated.
Then he pushed himself upward.
A sharp breath escaped his lips.
The mother smiled triumphantly.
“There. That wasn’t so difficult.”
But the young man did not release the handrail.
May you like
His entire body trembled.
And beneath the sound of the bus engine, something metallic clicked inside his left trouser leg.
