My Fall and Rise Ch. 09

I rode the whole next day. Crossing Massachusetts, I recognized turn offs and rest areas where Nicky and I had rendezvoused with Nate. When we crossed into New York, it was the first time I had ever left New England. We rolled on, through sad tired cities, Rochester and Buffalo and Erie and Cleveland. My sandwiches were gone and I had hot dogs for supper in Toledo while I waited for my last transfer. It was after dark when we finally arrived at the bus station in Detroit.

I stepped off the bus and a dark, smiling man in a turban helped me retrieve my bags. There were more people milling about the bus terminal than lived in my hometown. I looked around for my grandmother. I had not seen her in at least ten years, but I was sure I would recognize her. I was nervous about becoming reacquainted with her, but anxious to find her. I searched through the crowd. There were faces of every shade and voices of many accents. I saw brown women in veils and black men in canary colored suits. There were punk kids in leather and soldiers in uniform. At last, I spotted my grandmother. She was barely five feet tall and didn't weight much more than one hundred pounds. Her hair was silver, but she had dyed a magenta streak above one ear. She was wearing a trench coat that scraped the ground and a pair of Converse All Stars. She was leaning against a pillar that was adorned with a No Smoking sign. There was a cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth.

I lugged my suitcases over to where she stood.

"Hi Grandma."

She looked up at me. "About time you got here, kiddo. Come on, let's go get a beer and your first taste of real pizza."

I knew that we would get along just fine.