When one of them reached up to the overhead compartment she modestly held her top down so as not to expose any flesh above her waist. She looked so very young, almost like a doll. She passed the time by watching videos, her face a shifting map of unfiltered responses, each one blossoming and becoming a kind of sunlight that illuminated her face.
The other one had short hair and the fleshy round face of a Buddha. She asked her friend to put some drops in her eyes, and one of them missed the mark, forming a tear just below her eye where it stayed unattended, as if a moment of sorrow now suspended in time. She was perfectly impassive, and as she sat there staring out the window her eyes grew heavier and heavier. Dazed and almost given to sleep, she seemed in a dimensional fog, just flickering in the limbo of this world, and capable at any moment of becoming more spirit than person and simply floating away.
I was listening to Sigur Ros on my headphones and it all felt like a movie, everything holy and beautiful, as if present only for my attention. Outside, as snow fell, farmlands, retreating forests and tiny homes sped past, more like memories than the architecture of the world. It felt profound, somehow, and then out of the camouflage and dull wash of scrub, a deer stepped from invisibility, so suddenly and magnificently manifest that it could only have been an angel.
I nodded my head, “ So what you’re saying is that since you can’t influence the weather, why bother worrying about it, right? Well, I guess that’s a pretty reasonable way to approach life, if you can pull it off. “
“Rain, no rain, who cares?”
We sat in a kind of prickly silence after that.
As he rounded onto Bloor at Spadina, he began to furiously pound on his horn. “Look at this, “ he yelled back at me. “The lady is taking up two lanes while she tries to turn!” As he was saying this he was driving past the SUV, but still honking his horn and sneering at the woman for good measure. Feeling slightly wounded by his response to my rain question, I said, “Ah, you shouldn’t worry about it! You can’t influence how she drives, so why get yourself all tied-up in knots?! “ Adding magnanimously, as if offering him a drink, “And besides, you’re already past her, relax! Traffic, no traffic, who cares?”
The driver exhaled loudly, looked back at me once and then looked back at me again before shaking his head from side to side.
“You think you’re smart guy, eh?” he said.
“Sometimes.”
“You feel smart right now?”
“I feel like a fucking Buddha.”
“You are no fucking Buddha.”
And for the rest of the fare we drove amidst a tense silence, one that was punctuated only by the sound of dispatch in the background.
