What might be, one day

He bent down to give the dog a kiss.  She made him smile.  The shapes she sometimes would lay in her bed.  Her head was to the side, her ear sticking up and looked like she had a smile on her face.  She was in a deep sleep because when he kissed her, she didn't move.  Sometimes she might slowly lift her eyes open or do a big sigh, but not this morning.

He had already said bye to his Mum.  As he shut the front door behind him, he winced, just in case he let it bang behind him — not this morning. 

Ben took a deep breath in.  Although it was a wet, dark Monday morning, he was feeling happy.  As he set off for the bus, he knew that he had to alter his walk slightly to prevent the rainwater on the ground getting through the sole of his right trainer.  It felt good this morning; it smelt good even.  Really fresh.  The breeze was gentle on the trees he noticed.  The birds were going for it.  He looked up in one tree and could just make out about ten small birds.  The noise they could make!  It was a continual chirping of so many different sounds.  A bit like a machine, it had a busy, choppy, rhythm to it.  Why some had a particular call, compared to others, beat him.  It was like they competed with each other.  It could hardly be to attract a mate because they wouldn't have a clue who was saying what, such was the chitter-chatter.

It was still dark, the street lights on.  Some houses were still in darkness, and a few had lights on.  He started on his way.  He was a creature of habit, always walked across the road at the same point; heading to his bus stop.  He was in a great mood.  His body was feeling good; the pace to his walk was steady as a heartbeat.  He would sometimes count in his head as he strode.  He would like to put silly noises or words in his mind between the beats of the walk.  He generally looked down as he walked, just a few feet in front of him.  He brushed through the wet bushes that were a short cut to lead to the underpass.  It was still lit up.  He took a deep breath.  He never liked walking through the underpass since one of his mates was beaten up in one a month ago.  This time of morning would not be a problem.  He was on time this morning, so no mad rushing to catch the bus.  He had a choice of walking up the path and around to the bus stop or just climbing straight up the steep concrete leading up to the road.  He did the latter for no particular reason.  As he got to the top, his heart had started pumping, and he looked across the road to the bus stop.  Same old faces.  As he walked across to the group, he made eye contact with this lad of a similar age.  

"Yip?" said Ben.

The slightest of a nod of the head from the lad.  

This group of people always looked the same.  Same clothes, faces, bags, and they always just stood there in complete silence.  Ben had a particular place he liked to wait, just behind the crowd.  He preferred to watch everyone rather than be watched.

Bang on time, the bus pulled up.  As ever, it was heaving with students going to college.  Ben opened his bus ticket wallet for the bus driver.  He liked this driver.  She would normally say something to him.  She smiled at Ben, looked at his ticket and said "Good boy".  She was an old lady of about 50, well maybe not 50 but older than his Mum.  She always looked smart.  The sleeves of her blue uniform shirt were creased, it always looked really clean.  Her hair was tied up neatly, and although she had makeup, she didn't go overboard with it but looked nice.  She just looked nice to Ben.  He could see the pores of her skin, she always looked clean.  She had the first signs of a wrinkle here and there near her eyes and mouth, but it suited her.  She seemed comfortable in her skin to Ben.

From this stop, all the group would find a seat, which was lucky.  Just a few stops further on, and those passengers always had to stand for the half-hour journey.  It always struck Ben how lucky he was regarding that point.  Surely, those other passengers who had to stand every day, should get a cheaper ticket?  He doubted that very much.

He found a seat next to another student.  Everyone, without exception was staring at their phone with earphones in.  The lights were on in the bus, but the glare of the phones still could be seen on their faces.  They looked like robots.

Ben still had his ticket wallet open and put his thumb over the passport photos of his Mum and Dad and rubbed it.  He missed his Dad terribly.  They split up over a year ago.  The saddest day of his life; seeing his Dad close that front door behind him.  He doesn't know why they split up.  

As he sat on this bumpy bus, with the smell of damp in the air, misted up windows and other than the cranky noises of the bus, complete silence, he thought of his parents.

He felt a mixture of sadness, shame, disappointment, and a general sense of loss of what could have been.  He recalled when they used to drive out to the beach in the summer time.  His Dad always used to drive, and from the back seat, he could see how his Dad used to look at his Mum when they talked.  His Mum had a way of turning her head downwards while slowly closing her eyes and smiling.  She always looked smitten.  She looked at his Dad with very happy eyes. Ben noticed this, and it made him feel calm.

He would love to see them both together again.  It wasn't going to happen; he didn't know why.  There were lots of things about relationships that he found confusing.  There seemed to him to be a big difference between how people interacted in body language compared to what they say.  It was an odd thing that he was aware of but did not understand.  Perhaps things would become more apparent as he got passed 16.

As he looked at his Dad's photo, he just saw a man who was missing out.  Mum's love was so great towards his Dad that there was no way that a person could stop receiving that, and not be affected.  He just felt so sad for his Dad, being lonely.  He used to wonder how he survived because he never made any meals at home.

Thinking of this, Ben noticed his tummy rumble.  He had looked in the bread bin at home, but it was empty.  He'd left home on an empty stomach again.  It was ok, though.  He knows Mum doesn't have loads of money for them both.

His thoughts wandered to his job at the weekend at the paper factory.  This was Ben's sole form of income.  He was trying to save £253 to buy his Mum a necklace for her birthday.  It was going to be tight.  He remembers how his Mum used to look at his Dad when he gave her jewellery for birthdays and Christmas, and he wanted to see her face like that again.  He works 8am - 4pm at this factory that produces small paper bags; thousands, possibly millions of them.  His Dad had got him the job as the owner, Mr Davies, knows his Dad.  He gets £80 cash when he leaves on the Sunday afternoon; £40 a day.  It's hard work, but Ben likes the sense of worth for doing the work.  Mr Davies often tells him that he is doing a good job.  The necklace used to cost £230 up until just over two weeks ago.  Ben went to check on it as he does from time to time, and noticed they had raised the price by £23 - so he didn't get a cheeseburger that day to try and make up for it.  

Mr Davies has told Ben that when he gets his driving licence, he can start delivering the bags too, and that can increase his wages slightly.  He looks forward to that day.

The bus was filling up.  Passengers standing near to Ben had wet coats.  He looked down at the floor, and there were drops of water collecting on the grey surface.  It was pretty chaotic when he looked around:  umbrellas, wet hands, hoods, glasses with raindrops on them, and the condensation was thick now on the inside of the windows.  

He was looking forward to getting to college.  He loved his plumbing course.  There was a girl in his group who he really liked but couldn't say anything to her.  He would love to talk to someone about her, but he just couldn't.  He was bursting with thoughts about her that he would like to tell someone. 

Sometimes, if he was struggling with a task in the college, and she had already done it, she would come over and help him.  When she looked Ben in the eyes, even if it were just for the briefest moment, his heart would explode.  She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.  Her eyes would look at him, and for that moment, he thought he was the luckiest person in the college because, for that second, he had her attention.  So he liked college. 

As he still rubbed his wallet with his thumb, he was staring, absent-mindedly at the passengers head in front of him, and smiling as he thought of Amy.  He knew her name from the register.  He thought she was brave because she was the only girl on the course.  But she was clever; she could do most jobs before anyone else.  When it came to working things out with maths, she had this magical ability to get the answers quickly.  The tutors make fun of the lads as she is always first to answer.  

He had a flashback of his Mum's face on the beach journey again.  In his mind, there was bright sunlight as he pictured her head, turning towards his Dad driving the car.  

His Dad used to get weekly magazines delivered, and Ben liked to flick through to the Arts Review section.  Sometimes, there would be a portrait which Ben would stare at for ages.  He would run his fingertip over the paper image of the painting, almost like he was trying to feel the face.  There was something about faces that Ben liked to pay attention to.  In his mind, it was possible to 'see' a great deal from a facial expression.  But the texture of the face, the skin, the colour, wrinkles, all of these features he would normally notice.  He misses not seeing his Dads magazines, he likes to see portraits but doesn't know how to see them anymore.   The magazine paper had a gloss to it that Ben doesn't see at the weekends in the factory.  There must be different grades of quality he imagined.  His Dad's magazines could show an image of a portrait, and it would draw Ben to the paper.  He hoped that one day, he might be able to get those magazines.

The home run for the bus journey.  

This was when passengers started to wake up a bit.  Another couple of minutes and he would be outside the college.  He looked down at his right trainer - sock not wet yet.  He folded his bus ticket wallet and placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket.  It was still raining outside.  He never minded the rain.  As he looked around him, it was almost like the people were freeing themselves from a clear plastic wrapping that had held them captive for the bus journey.  

He was looking forward to his day, but he wasn't so keen on this bus journey, but one day, he might be able to drive to college.