Diane stood on the corner of Ocean Avenue waiting for the bus in the pouring rain. A blanket of storm clouds turned the sky greenish-black and the deluge of water left a slick shimmer on the city streets.

Diane leaned over the edge of the sidewalk-- in-between the parked cars-- and scanned the oncoming traffic for any sign of a bus. The glowing stream of low-riding headlights held no promises. The Avenue L bus station did not have a shelter, only a tall street post with a sign. 

Her mother forced the whole Hebrew School thing upon her after enrolling her younger brother into the day school program at East Midwood. When all her friends went to Hebrew day school for their elementary education, Diane begged her mother to send her too-- she didn't. But by now, at thirteen, Diane wanted no part of it.

Shelly promised to pick her up after the class ended at 5:00pm. Diane finished all of her homework while she waited inside the school. After about an hour, they started to lock up the building.

“Can we call someone?” asked Mrs. Brachen. 

Diane felt the blood rushing to her face.  “Okay.” They entered the long narrow room that looked more like a closet than the headmaster’s office. Diane picked up the receiver of the old black rotary phone, pulled each number on the dial, and waited for it to ring. Mrs. Brachen watched her with patient anticipation. Diane saw the small corner of a brown paper towel peek through the hairline of the elderly woman’s wig. The phone rang four times, five times, six times, with no answer.    

“I’m sure she is on her way,” Diane explained.

“I’ll try calling my grandmother.”

She once again pulled the plastic wheel back on the phone.  No one answered at her grandmother’s house either.

“I’ll just try my house one more time.”

Just like before, the line rang and rang.  Diane gave up hope.  She put the receiver back down and swallowed hard.

 “I can wait for her outside.”

The old woman nodded and the two of them left the office. Mrs. Brachen wrapped a plastic rain hood over her head and then a scarf around her neck. She bundled up her winter overcoat and locked the little office door. She led Diane out to the back entrance— the one that let out on East 21^st Street.

“Will you be okay?” The old woman asked as Diane opened up her umbrella. 

“Yes, if she doesn’t get here soon, I’ll just take the bus home.”

“Okay, have a good night,” the old woman called, waving to her as she hurried down the street.

In fact, Diane needed two city buses to get home from East Midwood and the trip took more than an hour.

She paced in front of the synagogue for about ten minutes in the pouring rain before walking around the corner to the bus stop.

Cold water seeped through her sneakers and weighed down her socks. She wished that someone she knew would pull up to the wet street corner and stop, but no one – other than her mother – drove past here. She leaned out between the parked cars again, but saw only the lights of the oncoming cars and occasional trucks up ahead. A Mercedes sedan flew by. Its passenger-side tires sunk into the large pothole next to Diane, and sprayed a puddle of muddy water all over her face and clothes.

“Ugh! Gross!” She flicked her wrist to wipe off her hand and reached into her pocket in search of a tissue. Diane fought back the tears that threatened to escape. 

“I just want to go home!” She said to no one in particular. 

           Her little pocket tissue disintegrated as she tried to wipe the mud from her face. The strap of the backpack cut into her shoulder. She knew that the bag must weigh at least fifteen pounds with the three monster textbooks and spiral bound notebook inside of it. By now, a ring of water crawled its way up the cuffs of her jeans.

           “Where the hell is the bus!”

           A long black town car pulled up to the curb.  She watched the tinted window slide down. The driver, a middle-aged man with a neat hair cut, wire-rimmed glasses, and a sweater with a dress shirt beneath it, leaned over.

           “Need a ride?”

           Diane knew better than to get into a car with a stranger, but she could feel the residual heat from inside the car seep through the window. She smelled the new leather seats and listened to the crystal clear rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony playing through the front speakers.    

           “No thanks,” She shook her head.

           “I’m not a bad guy. I promise, I just feel sorry for you standing out in the rain.”

           He smiled.  He looked like a kind, nice man.  Hadn’t she just wished that someone would come along and offer to take her home? He drove an expensive car.  Some part of her brain tried to reason that an upper middle class person could not be anything other than nice.

She looked behind him for any sign of the bus—only cars.

“Come on, you’re soaked.  Just get in.”

She walked a little closer to the car and reached for the door handle.

“How far are you going?”

 “I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“It’s no trouble.” He smiled again. This time, Diane saw a glint of white from his teeth. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

Something felt off. She could not decide if she would tell him where she lived. No matter how miserable the rain made her, she knew she shouldn’t get into his car. By now, any hint of daylight long since vanished and her only alternative was to wait in the cold, rainy darkness.

She released the door handle.

“You know, I think I’ll be okay,” she said as she took a step backwards.  “I’m sure the bus will be here soon.”

“Don’t worry,” He said.  “I’m really just a nice guy that wants to help out. The weather is horrible and my car is warm and dry.”

“N-no. I’ll wait.”

By now Diane resumed her spot on the sidewalk.  She took a quick look around to see if anyone else could see the exchange.  Rain pounded on the empty streets.

“Thanks anyway.”

He stared at her through the open window for a long moment before looking around.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Suit yourself.”

He rolled up the black tinted window and drove away, leaving Diane standing by herself on the corner. Another ten minutes went by before the familiar height of bus headlights gleamed through the opposite side of the red light. She jumped into the street to wave it down, praying that the driver would stop.

“It’s about damned time!” she cursed into the street.

Diane listened to familiar hiss of the buses’ brakes and watched the driver open the door.

“What happened?” she asked the driver as she flashed her bus pass.  “I’ve been standing here for an hour?”

The driver glared at her but held his tongue. She squeezed into the crowded vehicle, put her backpack between her legs and grabbed the bar above a pregnant Asian woman.  Water dripped from Diane’s clothes onto the woman’s legs. She cursed at Diane in Chinese.

“Sorry,”Diane mumbled.  She couldn’t move in the crowded bus.

           It might not be comfortable, but at least Diane knew she was going home.