FICTION        

He could have easily waited for the 5:40 p.m. bus.
                               Photo by Mike Lambert                                    

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Matthew's Trip
by  Michael Gordon

​Matthew began to question the wisdom of today’s trip to the police station. He was exhausted, hardly eating and could not remember the last time he slept through the night.
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He was terribly sad and wished that the deep dark circles under his eyes would go away. His wife was visiting her sister and being home alone at this time was a great relief. He had to deal with this by himself. His supervisor at work had called him into her office the day before. He had forgotten to shave that morning and must have looked awful. And the suit he wore was badly in need of pressing.
 
“Matt,” she said. “We’ve known each other for a long time and you know that I am not one to pry into anyone’s private life. It’s simply not like me at all to do that but I have to be honest with you. And it’s not just me who’s concerned.”
 
“Hold on a minute.” he said. “I know what you are going to say and let me stop you right there.”
 
“Matt, will you please let me finish. It’s not just that you are getting behind on your project; it’s more than that. I have never seen you so moody around the office and so abrupt with the members of your sales team. And frankly Matt, I want you to take some time off. Think it over and let me know by tomorrow morning. I’m very serious about that.”
 
“Look Julia, I know that I’ve been really grumpy lately and not too much fun to be around but I’m the team leader and intend to be here until we’ve put this deal together.”
 
“Matt, I’m not kidding here, you have some issues that need to be resolved and this is not the place to bring them every day. I hope that I make myself clear. Think about what I said.”

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Later that week Matthew began to seriously question the wisdom of today’s trip to the police station. His head was spinning. He simply wished that he had never caught the 5:20pm bus two weeks ago.
 
“Damn, damn, damn.” He muttered and kept repeating that to himself. He could have easily waited for the 5:40pm bus. But no, he had to run after the bus, waving his arms like a madman trying to flag down a taxi. The bus came to an abrupt halt and Matthew had scampered aboard. The driver stared at him as if he had disrupted his entire route for the remainder of the day. Matthew fumbled for his monthly pass. The bus would not move until he paid the fare. He had yanked the pass out of his pocket and several rumpled dollar bills and some change popped out and dropped to the floor.
 
All eyes were on Matthew. Finally the doors slammed shut and the bus jerked on its way as he fought to keep his balance. He felt some of the passengers’ eyes boring into him as if he was responsible for making them late or missing important meetings, or closing deals or maybe even a tryst or two. 

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​A horrible two weeks had passed and Matthew’s life was now miserable and completely upside down because of that day. He finally settled into his seat on today’s 5:40.pm. Oddly, it was the same window seat that he had sat in two weeks before. He felt something rumpled under his feet and looked down to see what it was. He reached down and picked up a soiled and wrinkled newspaper. He breezed through its torn pages when suddenly his heart nearly stopped beating and his knuckles turned white as he squeezed the paper tightly. It was the story on the bottom of page two that commanded his attention. The article was about an automobile hit-and-run victim who was on life support at a nearby hospital. The police were searching for witnesses to the accident, but it was nearly dark when it happened and no one had come forward to help identify the car or driver. The case seemed hopeless said the reporter who was covering the incident. But Matt who had been sitting by the window late that afternoon watched it all unfold. And what was even worse, he not only recognized the blue four-door sedan but also the driver who seemed to freeze for several moments before he backed up and with tires screeching sped away. A hit and run.
 
The word witness kept repeating itself over and over again in his head until it became just a sound without any meaning to it. He was a witness. Maybe the only witness. The story in the newspaper said that the victim’s family was pleading for someone with any information to come forward. Matthew read the article again and it made him sick to his stomach. He was sad and emotionally drained. His mind was playing tricks. Maybe it was just an awful dream.
 
But it wasn’t. If only the bus driver on that damn 5:20pm hadn’t stopped for him everything would be different. Everything.
 
Again and again, Matthew questioned the wisdom of going to the police station. How would he explain that it took him over two weeks to report that the driver of that hit-and-run car was his oldest son? 

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​​Michael Gordon grew up in East Los Angeles. After serving in the U.S. Army, he graduated from the California State University at Los Angeles. He moved to Berkeley in 1965 to work with the Mayor and city government.  He worked on Montgomery Street for E.F. Hutton and retired from Morgan Stanley forty years later. Married to Martha Hoover, he raised a daughter in the Russian Hill neighborhood. Post retirement, he discovered OLLI at SF State, as well as San Francisco City Guides. He takes about ten OLLI at SF State classes every year.  Michael leads several City Guide tours, all free, including the Murals of Coit Tower, The Landmark Victorians of Alamo Square and Fort Mason to Aquatic Park.

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