"Where have you been, young lady?" I asked with mock surprise in my tone, after opening the door to my bus.
I knew where she had been. Over the last two years Rayfella had told me of the many trips she had taken on freighters, seeing a good portion of the world in slow motion. Freighters were not a quick way to travel. One had to be pretty much self-sufficient and enjoy reading, as most ships have a library, writing or watching videos.
"You expected me back last week, I suppose. I missed the ship in France and had to catch a train through the channel tube to catch up with it in London. Missed it there too. I decided to visit a girlfriend near by and fly home.
I had indeed been expecting her return. When home, she caught my bus 2 or 3 times a week shopping, visiting friends or family.
Her usual seat was open directly behind me and we talked continuously for the hour and 28 minutes it took to get downtown. She happily told me she would wait for my bus for the return trip back to the beach. I told her what times to look for me. Watching her exit the bus, I always found it amazing how a woman, I figured in her 60s, bobbed down the stairs of my bus as if a teenager.
She was an intriguing woman and I at 23 had always found the older woman sexually attractive. I had always hesitated to ask Rayfella if she was married. I did not want to alienate the lady by asking personal questions.
We both love to travel and I loved to hear stories of the many places she had been. She was the reason I stayed on the beach run.
Happily, I saw her standing at a bus stop on my return downtown, I hoped, waiting for me to chauffeur her home.
"I missed your last trip by mere minutes. But then I remembered I hadn't had lunch." She chirped skipping up the stairs of the bus. "Did you miss me?"
"Terribly!" I replied, knowing she had either shopped a bit more are just waited a long time. It may me happy that she would go to that extent.
The mid-afternoon trip was the slowest, passenger wise, of my 10 hour, 4 roundtrip, workday. But, the seat behind me was taken as well as the seat across from me. I detoured through two malls and it was not until the second mall that the seat across from me came open and Rayfella quickly occupied it.
When stopped, killing time to stay on schedule or at a red light, I could turn to look at her when I spoke to her, giving me a chance to study the older lady.
I had always set the small round mirror over the left-hand corner of the door to view the legs of any woman sitting directly behind me, I had discovered early on that Rayfella had pretty legs that any 20-year-old girl would die for.
This day she had her hair drawn back and braided about 6 inches. Her hair was a beautiful silvery white. Her face was pretty and fun to look at. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She wore a white cotton shirt over light blue denim pants, with denim flats. Her coat lay atop her shopping bags. On her slightly freckled arms, she wore a small watch. There was one small ring on her left hand but not on her wedding finger.
We talked almost nonstop. I saw her bus stop coming up but she did not make an effort to prepare to stand up. She never noticed as we passed it, so intent was she with her nonstop travelogue.
As I pulled into Fort Story;
"My goodness! We went right by my stop!" She exclaimed. "You let me do that on purpose, didn't you?"
"I confess! I enjoy your company pretty lady. It's good to have you home again."
I had a 20-minute layover at the lighthouse and I hoped that no one would join us at this time of day.
"Naughty! Naughty!" She teased as I circled the bus around the gravel parking lot pulling closer to the tree line to hide the bus.
"I ask your forgiveness, my lady!" I said, as I pulled the bus out of gear, pulled the rear door handle, setting the back brakes and left by seat to sit across from her.
"Are you married, Press?" She queried.
"Engaged. Are you?"
"My one and only husband died many years ago. He was 63." She replied.
"Ray, if I may be so bold. How old are you?" I asked, trying to hide my instant curiosity.
"You shouldn't ask a lady her age, young man!" She said merrily. "You're going to be surprised!" She waited a few moments for effect, I suppose, then, added, "I'm 91!"
I thought I'd been struck by lightning, and undoubtedly my mouth dropped open.
"You're joking! You're not a day over 61 or 62." I said, disbelief in my tone. "You move like a teenager."
"It's true! Good genes, I suppose." She stated. "My father died at 102 years old. My mother at 99! Dad could lift a 100-pound bag of potatoes when he was 100."
She spent the next 10 or 12 minutes telling me about her family. Finally, as she talked, I stood and got behind the steering wheel of the bus. I rolled slowly out of the lot. I picked up one person in the next few blocks.
"You're late!" The man said as he dropped his money into the box.
The man proceeded as usual to the very back of the bus where he hoped I would not see him smoking. I always did.
"Nope! Right on time." I replied as always. He said it at least twice a week.
I saw Rayfella prepare to stand up. I eased the bus to a stop.
"I may see you tomorrow." She said, stopping momentarily close to me, placing her hand on my shoulder, as I opened the door. "Bye Press."
She stepped down the first step, "pretty lady, have dinner with me!" I said, as quietly as I dared, making sure she would hear me.
She turned and stepped back up the step, moving close to me. "Did you not say you were engaged?" She whispered. "My generation considered an engagement the same as being married - except for sex."
"I'll tell Alice if you want." I replied. "But I really want to see you somewhere besides on this bus."
"You have a pen?" I wrote down her number and she told me to call her to set time and date.
I waited anxiously for two days, not wanting to seem overly zealous.
"Did you tell Alice?" She asked as we talked on the phone.
"You didn't tell me I had to." I replied sheepishly. "All right, I confess, I don't want to."
"I'll see you at 7 o'clock then." She said. "I'm looking forward to it Press."
I picked her up at 7 o'clock sharp. It being late November, it was already dark.
She was wearing black dress pants and a red silky blouse. Her shoes were gold-colored flats, her hair again in a braid.
"You're very lovely tonight." I told her as I helped her on with a shawl. It was an unusually warm November.
"For a 91-year-old lady! But thank you!" She said with a smile.
I had picked a rather nice restaurant that I knew had a dim lighted ambiance.
As usual, we talked about travel. I preferred travel in the US and Canada over Europe and we debated the preference. We laughed a lot and I felt very fortunate to be with a pretty older woman, even if she was 91, she did not show it - nor act it.
She invited me in when we returned to her home and we sat on the sofa, she drinking wine and me Coke.
"Ralph left me quite well-off thank heavens as I had some idea my life was going to be a long one."
"So you've lived on the oceanfront for a long time?"
