little, finally.
Two stops later, we hadn’t picked up any passengers, but by then the old guy’s snores had taken on a life of their own. During an extended open-mouthed gurgle, Map Man turned to me and spoke in a stage whisper. “Should I wake him up? What if he misses his stop?”
I shrugged. “If he’s not awake by Crystal City, maybe we should wake him then.”
“Is that where you get off?”
I looked away and pretended I hadn’t heard him.
He pulled his map out again, but instead of reading it, he tapped it against his leg and kept looking at the elderly gentleman whose head bobbed and wagged with each bump and joggle of the train. We sailed through the next two stops without the old guy waking up. Map Man kept up a staccato rhythm against his leg, its tempo getting faster by the second as the old guy’s snores reverberated around us.
“Maybe I’d better ask him.” Map Man got up and shook the sleeping fellow’s shoulder. “Hey, Gramps. You okay there?”
Startled, the older guy blinked and leaned away from the intruder, clearly terrified. “What? What?” Frantically looking around, he asked, “Where are we? Is this my stop?”
Our train began to slow as we approached Crystal City. I stood up.
Map Man rolled his eyes. “Don’t know. Where do you get off?”
He coughed. “Clarendon.”
Oh no
. I was about to offer to help when Map Man’s words froze me in my tracks. “Gramps, you got a problem. You didn’t just miss your stop. You’re on the wrong train. This is Blue. You should have switched at Rosslyn.” He pointed to the floor. “This is the wrong train, mister.”
I stifled my surprise. Unless he possessed a photographic memory, an out-of-towner wouldn’t know that information off the top of his head. I fought the queasiness that took hold of my stomach. This could be nothing. A misunderstanding on my part. But I wasn’t about to take chances. Without making eye contact with Map Man, I approached the older gentleman.
“Let’s get off here,” I said, taking his elbow and helping him to his feet as the train came to a stop. “I’ll get you onto the right train.”
Map Man seemed surprised. “Is this your stop?” he asked.
The doors opened.
Map Man followed us out. “Let me help you.”
“I’ll handle this, thanks.” I turned to my elderly charge. “What’s your name?”
He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “Bettencourt,” he said, pulling his arm from my grip, “Benjamin Bettencourt.”
Map Man gave me a skeptical look over the back of Mr. Bettencourt’s head. “You sure you want to handle this on your own?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself.”
Visibly vexed, Mr. Bettencourt stamped his cane on the ground. “For the love of Pete,” he said, “would you two stop acting as though I’m an idiot who’s lost all my marbles?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I just thought…”
“I know what you thought,” he said, voice rising. “Justbecause I’m old doesn’t mean I’m feeble. Wait until you’re my age, girlie, and some do-gooder tries to manhandle you.”
“My apologies,” I said, backing away. “I’m sure you’ll be fine from here.”
“Darned right I am. This is my stop.”
“I thought you said Clarendon,” I said.
Bettencourt worked his mouth. “Yes, well. It’s none of your business where I get off. I just got confused for a minute. I was having a good dream before I got shaken awake.”
Map Man pushed his hat farther back on his head and shot me an amused look. I didn’t return it. All I wanted was to get away. “Are you sure you don’t need help?” I asked Bettencourt.
His face contorted as though highly annoyed. “My daughter will be waiting for me outside. She’s very important, you know.”
Not totally convinced he really knew where he was, I was reluctant to leave him to his own wiles. And, selfishly, I figured that if I took charge of him, Map Man would back off. With any luck he’d get
Two stops later, we hadn’t picked up any passengers, but by then the old guy’s snores had taken on a life of their own. During an extended open-mouthed gurgle, Map Man turned to me and spoke in a stage whisper. “Should I wake him up? What if he misses his stop?”
I shrugged. “If he’s not awake by Crystal City, maybe we should wake him then.”
“Is that where you get off?”
I looked away and pretended I hadn’t heard him.
He pulled his map out again, but instead of reading it, he tapped it against his leg and kept looking at the elderly gentleman whose head bobbed and wagged with each bump and joggle of the train. We sailed through the next two stops without the old guy waking up. Map Man kept up a staccato rhythm against his leg, its tempo getting faster by the second as the old guy’s snores reverberated around us.
“Maybe I’d better ask him.” Map Man got up and shook the sleeping fellow’s shoulder. “Hey, Gramps. You okay there?”
Startled, the older guy blinked and leaned away from the intruder, clearly terrified. “What? What?” Frantically looking around, he asked, “Where are we? Is this my stop?”
Our train began to slow as we approached Crystal City. I stood up.
Map Man rolled his eyes. “Don’t know. Where do you get off?”
He coughed. “Clarendon.”
Oh no
. I was about to offer to help when Map Man’s words froze me in my tracks. “Gramps, you got a problem. You didn’t just miss your stop. You’re on the wrong train. This is Blue. You should have switched at Rosslyn.” He pointed to the floor. “This is the wrong train, mister.”
I stifled my surprise. Unless he possessed a photographic memory, an out-of-towner wouldn’t know that information off the top of his head. I fought the queasiness that took hold of my stomach. This could be nothing. A misunderstanding on my part. But I wasn’t about to take chances. Without making eye contact with Map Man, I approached the older gentleman.
“Let’s get off here,” I said, taking his elbow and helping him to his feet as the train came to a stop. “I’ll get you onto the right train.”
Map Man seemed surprised. “Is this your stop?” he asked.
The doors opened.
Map Man followed us out. “Let me help you.”
“I’ll handle this, thanks.” I turned to my elderly charge. “What’s your name?”
He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “Bettencourt,” he said, pulling his arm from my grip, “Benjamin Bettencourt.”
Map Man gave me a skeptical look over the back of Mr. Bettencourt’s head. “You sure you want to handle this on your own?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself.”
Visibly vexed, Mr. Bettencourt stamped his cane on the ground. “For the love of Pete,” he said, “would you two stop acting as though I’m an idiot who’s lost all my marbles?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I just thought…”
“I know what you thought,” he said, voice rising. “Justbecause I’m old doesn’t mean I’m feeble. Wait until you’re my age, girlie, and some do-gooder tries to manhandle you.”
“My apologies,” I said, backing away. “I’m sure you’ll be fine from here.”
“Darned right I am. This is my stop.”
“I thought you said Clarendon,” I said.
Bettencourt worked his mouth. “Yes, well. It’s none of your business where I get off. I just got confused for a minute. I was having a good dream before I got shaken awake.”
Map Man pushed his hat farther back on his head and shot me an amused look. I didn’t return it. All I wanted was to get away. “Are you sure you don’t need help?” I asked Bettencourt.
His face contorted as though highly annoyed. “My daughter will be waiting for me outside. She’s very important, you know.”
Not totally convinced he really knew where he was, I was reluctant to leave him to his own wiles. And, selfishly, I figured that if I took charge of him, Map Man would back off. With any luck he’d get
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