Twelve Stops

 

On this particular day, I went out. Deadlines chasing me, responsibilities calling my name… my university really said, “You came here to rest? Cute.” And then went on to laugh behind my back.
I finally finished what I was out doing and checked the time. 1:30 a.m. If you live in Russia, you already know what that means. 

Metro? Closed.
Warmth? Not an option. The weather was really judgmental. 
Choices? Very limited.

The bible says, "Take the mercy. Accept the help.” I said no. Someone offered me a place to crash. A soft bed and enough heat for the cold night. But I said, “No, thank you. I’ll go home.” Because why? I wanted my bed. My clean sheets.

I entered the bus confidently. Sat down. Adjusted my bag.
“This is fine,” I told myself.
“I’ll just watch my stops.”

The bus moved. And moved. And moved. My eyes started closing. At some point, I stood up. Sat down. I stood up again. I was counting stops in my head, counting lights outside, counting my regrets. Wait o…30 stops already? Haba, we never reach?

People started staring. They were not aggressive stares, just concerned. The kind that says, “Is she okay or should we intervene?” I wanted to ask, “Please, where am I?” But my mouth remembered that I do not, in fact, speak the language. Then I realized. I checked my map. Checked again. Checked one more time for emotional support.

I was twelve stops away from my house. Twelve. But the bus didn't stop at any station. It just kept moving. Why were people sitting so calmly? Like the bus wasn't taking us on a trip to the Sahara. What was I missing?

I moved to the door. I stared at it intently. How do I make the bus stop? Does “overnight bus” mean I just get to keep riding until morning? Many questions bugged my mind. Then, I went back to my seat, hoping no one noticed I was lost. My steeze was gone. I mean!

I briefly considered sleeping on the bus.
I even looked around to see if anyone had claimed the floor space. Thank God I had my backpack with me. Pillow? Sorted!

But pride said no. Because c’mon, I'm a master's student, a Russian government scholar, and an abroad girl. As how nowww!!
So I stood up again and stared at the door like it would understand me by force. “What are they pressing to stop this bus now?” I thought. 

Finally, an angel. Someone stood up and pressed a button. On the same rod I had been holding onto to stay steady. I felt very funny.
I came down. It was 3 a.m.—2°C. Someone was texting me online, trying to guide me home. “Are you okay?” “Do you need help?” And I replied confidently, “Don’t worry. I’m not a child.” Which, in hindsight, is exactly what a child would say while sitting alone in the cold at 3 a.m., waiting for a bus that took 20 minutes to arrive.

Eventually, the next bus came, and I got home. I was alive, cold, humbled, and grateful.