The Red-Head

          We got back on the bus around six thirty last night and so the pressure was on Ed to get results fast. Sharona pointed out a piece of classic trailer trash chewing gum at the back of the bus, legs spread in a terribly unfeminine way.

            “Okay,” Ed said.

            “Really?” I asked, concerned for his sanity.

            “Yeah. Why not? It’s about time I got myself a new challenge. This has been fun but I can end it any time I like and I choose now.”

            I shared a look with Sharona as Ed got to his feet and started towards the girl at the back of the bus.

            “Hello darling…” he drawled. Then he leant in closer to her and whispered something in her ear. She looked up at him and giggled. He sat down by her side and she didn’t object. They started talking and she giggled regularly. The scene became less interesting so I turned my attention back to Sharona.

            She took the opportunity of Ed’s absence to scoot across and sit next to me and nestle down into my chest to rest for a moment. I breathed in the scent of her hair and wondered if I couldn’t just drift into eternal semi-consciousness right then. Happiness is so transient; I wanted to capture it just then. I was living a memory and the realisation made me momentarily uneasy, like mild vertigo.

            I heard movement and strange sounds from behind me and turned to look. I saw Ed with his tongue down the girl’s throat and his hand down her skirt, in full view. It was scandalous. I didn’t know whether to laugh or alert the driver. After a few moments the two of them went into the tiny coach bathroom together and produced occasional giggles and bangs. Eventually Ed came out and sat down across the corridor from us.

            “Satisfied?” he asked.

            “Yeah. Impressed at that. So what’s the next song?”

            “I didn’t ask.”

            “Didn’t you give her the line?”

            “Yes. But I didn’t ask for another song.”

            “Okay. I’ll do it.”

            I went over to the girl and asked her what Ed said when he first walked over.

            “Dunno,” she replied. “Something about a… tuuuurbo… neeeegro… aaah think. Hey, you wanna fuck me too?”

            “Er… no. But thanks. Could you just actually name me a song please?”

            “That’s easy: Man! I Feel Like a Woman! By Shania Twain!”

            “Yeah,” I laughed, “that’ll do.”

           

*

 

            We slept overnight on the move. I vaguely remember being woken at 3am for a random change over, at Atlanta, apparently. This morning I gradually awoke to a view of huge, empty America passing me by. Sharona had somehow contorted herself to have her head on my lap and she slumbered peacefully. The girl from Ed’s adventure had gone… with barely a sigh.

 

*

 

            In the afternoon, still on the bus, Sharona asked us both more about the adventuring. She wanted to join in but neither of us were too sure. I guess Ed wanted to keep it ‘in the family’ or something. I just wanted to minimise the risk of something messing up this thing I have going here with Sharona. I keep expecting the bubble to burst at any moment. In the end she insisted and we reluctantly agreed. She switched her ipod onto random and it played ‘Sisters’ by The Puppini Sisters, an English band! Sharona’s really into them, she likes their style, apparently. But the main reason for their appeal?

            “The red head… she’s hot!” And thus Sharona confirmed my suspicion that all girls are at least partially that way inclined.

            We listened to the song. It was about sisters dating men but always being loyal to each other in the end and spurning the men… until the last throwaway line when they appear to hint that perhaps they might let a man win one day. We agreed that it must mean that Sharona would have to find some sisters of her own back in London. We’d find her a girlfriend to spend some time with. Everyone seemed satisfied and thus any potential disaster was averted.

 

*

 

            We’re in yet another youth hostel now… Virginia Beach, finally! We only arrived, jaded and unkempt, at about eight thirty this evening so there wasn’t much time or energy for us to do anything too wild. In the end we just went to a local pizza place. Our waiter turned out to be a youth hostel employee from the Czech Republic named Matt. He joined us on the way back, sharing a few beers with us in the backyard of the hostel.

            As he watched the three of us he took increasing interest in the relationship between Sharona and me. Eventually he broke out into explicit admiration of our romance, almost embarrassing us with his earnest admiration of our open affection. Sharona was enchanted by his sincere, heartfelt simplicity of expression.

            Matt was called to deal with final duties before closing up and Ed shortly left for bed. Sharona and I remained outside on our own in the quiet yard, kissing and talking peacefully.