A Peek Inside Tales for Canterbury: “The Bus To Nostalgia” by Ripley Patton
It’s been a wee while now since we had a “peek inside” the Tales for Canterbury anthology, put together by Cassie Hart and Anna Caro to raise funds for Christchurch’s earthquake recovery. The last story I featured was Neil Gaiman’s Inventing Aladdin, featured here. This was also the first story I’ve peeked at from the “Survival” section of the anthology, which is divided into three parts: Survival * Hope * Future.
Today I thought I’d bring you the first peek inside a story from Future—the very last story in the book in fact, which is Ripley Patton’s The Bus To Nostalgia.
The Bus to Nostalgia
by Ripley Patton
When Grandpa Rory’s bus was two hours late, I began to worry. ere
were lots of folks in line at the information counter wanting to know
where their spouses and girlfriends, aunts and cousins were.
“The bus broke down,” the clerk said. “We had to send out another one.
Should be in soon, though. Look for number 57.”
So, we all wandered away to wait some more in our plastic seats, resignedly
scanning each new bus’s number. There was some camaraderie
in that. Some comfort that most everyone was missing someone, and we’d
sometimes catch one another’s eye, and smile and shrug.
After an hour or so, bus number 57 rolled up, opened its accordion
mouth, and expelled its travel-weary cargo. I was more patient than most.
Grandpa had been living between his four children’s homes for two years
now, so our greetings were pretty much old hat. I let the families and
young lovers go first, and just watched over their heads for Grandpa Rory.
He liked to sit in the back, and hated a crowd, so I wasn’t surprised not to
see him first thing.
The bus driver unloaded the luggage from under the bus and folks
grabbed it up, hugging and kissing their loved ones on the way to their
cars. The dust settled, and I could see there wasn’t a soul left on that bus.
It was empty as the day is long, but there, where the stacks of luggage had
been, was Grandpa Rory’s old leather baseball satchel with his favourite
brown cap perched on top.
The bus driver must have seen me staring, ’cause he walked right up
and asked, “You waitin’ for an older fella?”
…
Keen to find out what’s become of Grandpa Rory? Want to support the Canterbury earthquake recovery effort? You can do both by heading over to Random Static, and purchasing Tales for Canterbury here.
And if you want to peek inside some more of the stories, click here.