“Then, I got on the next bus to Plymouth, MA. And let this next part be a lesson to you, my Mia. Don’t talk to strangers about important, life altering things. Not every stranger is a friend you haven’t met. That’s crazy. Just because there is good and magic in everyone does not mean that everyone chooses to think and act based on that part of their hearts. Not everyone cares as deeply for others as you might. In fact, people usually only care about themselves.”
“Why Grandma Ivy?”
“You know, pumpkin? I still wonder about that every day. It doesn’t make sense to me, but things don’t always have to make sense for them to be true, like Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.”
On the bus, I tried to make friends. I was lonely and scared about my journey and what could happen if I failed. My dad was in bad shape, and my failing couldn’t be the reason I never got to play catch with him again.
I started talking to this old lady next to me about where I was headed and what I was going to see. And she told me about her son and his business. Apparently, it wasn’t doing very well. As we were talking, I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach, like something about the lady was off, but I ignored it and blamed my upset stomach on the burrito I got out a vending machine at the bus stop and the lady’s numerous moles on her face that had hairs growing out of them. Our conversation went something like this:
“Hello ma’am! How are you doing today? Wow, that is a lovely scarf! (It wasn’t).”
“Why hello, Deary. I’m doing just fine, thank you. Where are you headed?”
“Plymouth, to see some hobbomak.”
“What’s a hobbomak?”
“It’s a circular formation of rocks with a line to the spirit world. I’m going there to pray for my dad.”
“Ya don’t say. Well, isn’t that sweet, Deary! Maybe I should go too. My son is struggling with his business don’cha know? Maybe prayin’ could help’im out. He’s gone through some hard times since his wife left’im and took his son. He wasn’t makin’ enough money to support them and the witch was unsupportive of his ventures. Maybe if I pray I could get my grandson back.”
“What a splendid idea! What business is your son in?”
“Why, he’s an inventor. He has think tanks to try to find the best idea to patent, but the lazy bunch he listens to never have a single good idea to st- expand upon.”
“Bummer.”
“Well, it was nice meetin’ ya, Deary. I’m going to go sit in the front. I’m getting kinda car sick sitting on this wheel.”
When I got off of the bus, she did too. And she and her son, who met her at the station, followed where I walked from about 100 feet behind. They followed me all the way to the little inn I had found, not too far from the road in between Plymouth and Sandwich. I quickly rushed to my room and locked the door behind me, placing a chair underneath the door handle for good measure. Those two were no good. I knew that. But I didn’t learn about the full extent of their no goodness until later. What I am most thankful for in this world is your grandfather, who probably saved my life in those few days more times than most regular people would, even if they had three lifetimes. I’ll let him tell you the next part of the story tomorrow, but now, it’s time to get some sleep.