We had been sitting at the bus station for the better part of the day when a blue Chevy Malibu slowed down beside us and stopped. It was a 2-door coupe that had seen better days. The passenger side window rolled down, revealing the face of a woman. Her hair was brown and reminded me of a beaver. It was pulled back with a plastic clip, pieces of hair falling into her face. She hung an arm out the window and waved us over. Her eyes scanned the parking lot.
“Are y’all ok?” she hollered. Nick made his way over to the car. I hung back, reluctant to talk to strangers. I had spent most of the day resting against the concrete back end of the bus station. The heat had turned us into zombies. Our bodies moved slowly, interrupted only by the smallest of interactions.Earlier in the day a couple African American kids came by with bags of fast food for us. They had alerted the fire department that two weirdo teenagers had been hanging around the bus station without any food. It was nice to be helped and then it wasn’t. I looked over at the woman in the car.
Nick walked over to the open window and crouched down.
“Yeah, we are alright.”
“You don’t look alright.” She swatted at a large bug. “It’s hotter n hell out here. Where y’all from?” the woman asked looking over at me.
“Georgia. My friend and I are stuck at this bus station. We are hoping to find a way back to Atlanta.” He said cautiously.
“That’s a pretty long ways away. How’d ya’ll end up in Tupelo?” The woman asked, pulling a Malboro out of her purse. She lit the cigarette and when she did a small child popped up behind her. The girl was blonde and had the face of one of those little girls reminiscent of a vintage Sunbeam ad from the 1950s.