Parker/Marcus Street
i
Always wore polka dots, a lot of them. Never quite understood why, never really knew her did I? But I remember her polka-dotted skirt and her pink polka-dot umbrella and how there was a certain dottiness that came with her. But she seemed like a nice enough girl, like someone from the old movies. I could tell you stories about girls in old movies, I really could. But this isn’t about girls in old movies, this about the polka dot girl.
So this pretty little thing would hop on the bus every morning with a nice little smile and strangely enough she’d always say;
“We going past Parker Street today?”
Absurd, I always thought. The girl took the bus every single day, every single day went the same route. Always thought there was just something a little off about her, so I never questioned her, just gave her the same answer every morning;
“As always.”
Really did have a lovely smile, like the type my wife had years ago. I’d look in the mirror, watch her sit in the same seat every morning. Parker Street was only a few streets away, wasn’t a very nice street I can tell you that. Always filled with kids doing drugs or killing each other off and really it was a nasty place. Changed so much since I was young, used to be a real good place to live.
There was always a boy who got on there. Never knew how old he was, one minute it seemed he was wearing some prissy uniform, so out of place amongst the squashed cigarette packets and the graffiti. Then the next he had some big old messenger bag and some retro haircut, could only guess his age. He’d get on, big smile, never really say much but he’d go sit down near Dot. It’s what I ended up calling the girl, I think I grew very fond of them. Reminded me of my own grandchildren I guess.
It was odd when Dot stopped coming. Used to slow down, always thinking she might be late or something. Little thing never came. Almost broke my heart whenever the boy used to come on all hopeful and happy, only to have his little smile wiped off his young face. He used to ask me, all bright cheery;
“No Marcus Street today?”
Sadly, I’d have to shake my head, knowing all too well what the poor thing meant. Almost killed me more than my organs were watching his young eyes grow tried and weary by the day. One day, Messenger stopped asking, next he was gone altogether. Wonder whatever happened to those two kids. Hope they found happiness out there, somewhere. Still hope that it’s together. Doubt it, young love these days never lasts long.
So this pretty little thing would hop on the bus every morning with a nice little smile and strangely enough she’d always say;
“We going past Parker Street today?”
Absurd, I always thought. The girl took the bus every single day, every single day went the same route. Always thought there was just something a little off about her, so I never questioned her, just gave her the same answer every morning;
“As always.”
Really did have a lovely smile, like the type my wife had years ago. I’d look in the mirror, watch her sit in the same seat every morning. Parker Street was only a few streets away, wasn’t a very nice street I can tell you that. Always filled with kids doing drugs or killing each other off and really it was a nasty place. Changed so much since I was young, used to be a real good place to live.
There was always a boy who got on there. Never knew how old he was, one minute it seemed he was wearing some prissy uniform, so out of place amongst the squashed cigarette packets and the graffiti. Then the next he had some big old messenger bag and some retro haircut, could only guess his age. He’d get on, big smile, never really say much but he’d go sit down near Dot. It’s what I ended up calling the girl, I think I grew very fond of them. Reminded me of my own grandchildren I guess.
It was odd when Dot stopped coming. Used to slow down, always thinking she might be late or something. Little thing never came. Almost broke my heart whenever the boy used to come on all hopeful and happy, only to have his little smile wiped off his young face. He used to ask me, all bright cheery;
“No Marcus Street today?”
Sadly, I’d have to shake my head, knowing all too well what the poor thing meant. Almost killed me more than my organs were watching his young eyes grow tried and weary by the day. One day, Messenger stopped asking, next he was gone altogether. Wonder whatever happened to those two kids. Hope they found happiness out there, somewhere. Still hope that it’s together. Doubt it, young love these days never lasts long.