We stood in silence for another minute, vainly staring out the windows for a view, but the windows were so high and we were at a bad angle. It was all street lights.

KA-THUMP.

Both of us went white knuckled for a moment as the bus jumped a bit. “Sorry folks!” The driver called back. Then more softly, he said to us. “Sorry you two.” Apparently, we weren’t grouped in with ‘folks’. Typical.

We quieted down for a bus stop. Just long enough so that the hum of the engine would cover up our conversation.

“She’s a wife, too.” I said, looking over to Catherine. “What do you think happened to her husband?”

My wife kept looking straight ahead. “If he’s smart, he’s probably taking their kids and running out of town.” She must have seen the hurt in my eyes. “Would you want to see me all dolled up and diapered like that? Sucking on a paci and calling somebody ‘Daddy’?”

“I’d want to rescue you,” I said. “Run away with you. There’d be an off chance you’d go into Beouf’s room. I’d spring you from there and we’d fade away into the sunset.”

Catherine’s face took on a shade of condescension. “More likely we’d end up as ‘twins’. They’d just say we were from ‘similar backgrounds’, or something.” Then she added, “The only time we’d see each other naked is changes or bathtime.”

“So you wouldn’t want me to try and rescue you?” I asked. Feeling just the slightest bit hurt.

Catherine just shook her head. “No. I’d want you to take our kid and run.”

“Kid?”

“She said she was a mother, remember?”

I clamped my jaw for a second. “Yeah. Yeah I remember.” I paused. “But wouldn’t you want me to rescue you even more, then? So the kid could have a mother?”

“That lady was far too gone,” Catherine replied. “Kid can get a new mother.”

I scoffed at that. I’d never known my Uncle Thomas, but an uncle and a parent were leagues away from each other. “She couldn’t have been that far gone,” I said. “She was still embarrassed to get changed in a bathroom.”

“She was calling her kidnapper ‘Daddy’.”

“I’ve seen a lot worse.”

 

One hand on the pole, Catherine tucked her other one and the box of leftovers into her armpit. It was the closest she could manage to crossing her arms. I bet you’ve seen a lot worse. She didn’t say it outloud. She didn’t have to. I felt like such a tool just then. Such a good Little Helper.

I looked away. We got quiet again. Too quiet.

The humming of the bus filled in the void of our conversation. I pretended that there was something on the floor that looked absolutely enthralling. Eye contact was painful just then.

And so it went for two stops.

A gentle poke at my shoulder. “Hey.” Catherine’s voice was soft and sympathetic.

I looked up. “Hey.”

She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

I mouthed back. “I’m sorry, too.”

Her forehead nuzzled against mine. I could still smell the barbecue sauce on her breath. Felt the light glistening of sweat on her skin. “We’re all just doing what we can to get by.”

I nodded, feeling her kind of nod with me in the same way that two gears make each other turn. We completed each other. “Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s all we can do.”

“And I think you’re doing a good thing.”

“Yeah. My students are good kids. I hope they grow into good adults.”

“I meant with Beouf,” Catherine whispered. “You’ve told me the stories about Littles in your time out corner. You’re kinda like one of those counselors for people with terminal cancer.”

That left a sour taste in my mouth. Sad part was, I know Catherine was trying to be supportive. “I help how I can,” I whispered. Better for a Little to keep their sense of self than to end up a mindless Doll.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. If it makes you happy, and keeps us free, I support you.”

“Thanks hon.”

“Welcome.”