Wait we did.
Another ten minutes passed before we saw the large, rounded lights of the
trolley. A bell chimed its arrival. Those who had decided to wait for the
trolley—a group greatly diminished at this point—stood and gathered their
belongings, quickly forming a line. The glowing trolley rolled to a stop. My
sister and I filed in and took a bench right up front. My brother sat behind
us, and my parents behind him.
There
weren’t many occupants inside the trolley, so seating was plentiful. Yet, two
people who hopped onto the trolley last—having run from the festival in order
to catch it before it left—opted for the pole adjacent to my sister and me.
They were a young couple—not the one with the baby, though.
The
young man gently pushed the woman up against the pole, adjusting her hips so that
the pole was center to her buttocks. He pressed his body up close to hers,
spreading his legs in a warrior stance, to keep his date from being jostled by
the trolley ride, of course.
“Look
at them,” my sister muttered. “What are they doing?”
I
shrugged. “Who knows?”
A
ringing bell indicated the trolley was ready for departure. It made a wide
U-turn and began heading southbound towards the city. The man across from us
wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and planted them on her butt. She
squealed when he grabbed it in his hands. She moved her hands up and down the
inside of her man’s shirt, appearing to be clawing the man’s back with her long
nails. He caressed her neck with kisses and whispers of sweet, meaningless
words. She giggled and gave him a kiss on the lips.
I
turned back to face my brother and parents. My brother’s face was red. He kept
his focus on the tiger photograph, tracing over it with his finger. Our mother
rolled her eyes at me and diverted her attention to the passing streets. As for
my father, with hands folded, he continued watching the young couple,
snickering when the woman moved her hands from the small of his back deep inside
the back of his pants.
“What
the heck are they doing?” my sister sneered. “Disgusting!”
Facing
forward again, I didn’t respond, mostly because I didn’t know how to respond.
The trolley lulled to a stop, bell dinging. I looked out the window and saw the
two young men standing together, hand-in-hand. They were first to get on the
trolley. When brushing past the couple up front, they both gave confused looks.
The woman yanked her hands out from their resting place between skin and jeans,
giving her lover a quick tap on the butt. She tried to turn away from him, but
her boyfriend took his hand off her, using it to direct her face back to his.
The
two men sat behind my father. A few more people joined the ride, and within a
few moments, the trolley was rolling again, as was the young couple beside me. Their
kissing intensified. The man started moving his mouth all over her neckline.
Not to exclude other parts of her body, he cupped her breasts for a moment
before dropping his hands back to her butt. The kissing continued alongside a
gentle swaying of hips.
Abhorred
by their display of affection, my sister tightened the hood on her coat and
folded it over her eyes. “Sickos,” she whispered. “I want to be home now.”
I
was a different story. Yes, I know it’s rude to stare, but much like a car
wreck or man riding a unicycle up a downtown street in the nude, it’s hard not
to. Their love had escalated from simple public displays of affection that can
be easily ignored or missed to something I’d search for on the internet during
free time alone—if I was into that
sort of thing, of course. If there was line, it had been crossed several miles
ago.
I
looked around the rest of the bus. Many people were simply ignoring the couple,
doing what my mother was doing—watching the city pass under the gorgeous night
sky. Then I eyed the two men.
They
were deep conversation again. With the help of the passing streetlights, I saw
them, face-to-face, each looking intently in the eyes of the other. Their
smiles radiated happiness.
The
trolley arrived at another stop. The two men gave each other a quick peck on
the lips and stood. They meandered to the front, passing the pole dancers, once
again giving them disapproving looks. Then they were off the trolley and
walking towards the houses uphill. We continued on our trek for several more
minutes until it was our stop.
By
this point, the woman and man had swapped places; it was now his ass cheeks
pushed up against the pole. I gave him a slight smile when I passed, but he was
more interested in licking his girlfriend’s earlobe than acknowledging my
greeting.
“Thanks
for the ride,” I said to the trolley driver, taking a step down.
“Mmmhmm,”
she said. Her eyes were focused menacingly on the large mirror in front of
her—the one that showed the interior of the trolley.
Once
the trolley was rolling along again, I burst into laughter.
“Something
tells me they aren’t brother and sister,” my brother said.
I
quipped, “You never know.”
“That’s nasty!” my sister blurted
out.
“Regardless, I don’t think they’re
going home just to sleep,” I said.
“Well, we are,” my mom sighed. “Let’s
go.”
To be continued...
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