Frank's Bad Day-Part VIII

The bus slowed to a crawl and finally stopped at the waiting group of people. There were eight people in all; five men and three women. They all carried a black canvas messenger bag and wore a lanyard with an ID card on it. The men were dressed in brown pants, tan shirts and navy blue ties. The women were wearing khaki skirts, off white blouses and navy blue scarves, except for one striking blonde who wore a bright red scarf. It was the first splash of any real color Frank had seen since arriving, in the drab town. He couldn’t take his eyes off the scarf; it was like a cardinal in February when you are dying for winter to end.  In less than a day he had forgotten how much colors add to his world. Frank was determined that he would get to know this woman and find out why she was allowed to wear color in this world.
As the people boarded the bus, Charon grunted “Hello” or nodded in a matter-of-fact manner, the same way we do to those acquaintances we all see every day who aren’t friendly enough to be friends, but are part of the daily landscape and must be acknowledged.  Frank thought to himself that they had the look of people on a Wednesday; people who were in the middle of a long week without a weekend in sight.

Each of the travelers held their ID card up to a red light on the coin box and passed by when the box made a cheery “Bing” noise and then they found their way to their seats in the middle of the bus. The blonde was the last to get on the bus.

“Good morning Charon, how are you today?”, she tilted her head and smiled softly.
“Good morning Leslie, I’m ok. How are you today? Wearing my favorite scarf today I see.”, Charon softened visibly and Frank could see where he was a smooth operator when he was younger.
“Oh, this old thing?...You're too kind.", it had the ring of an inside joke repeated year after year.
“Leslie, you see the confused looking newbie in the back of the bus? He’s heading to SMI. Could you keep an eye on him? He had a fight with an imp when he got here as it tried to steal his token and he’s having the grey town vision, so you can imagine he’s kind of shook up. He’s a good kid, but could use some extra help. Would you do that for me as a personal favor?”
She smiled and patted his shoulder, “Anything for you, Charon.”
“Thanks Leslie, you’re the best.” Charon said with an almost wicked grin. It was obvious they had that the sort of purely platonic but slightly flirtatious relationship enjoyed by mature men and women; the kind of relationship where you obviously appreciate the opposite sex, but you prize their friendship above anything else.

Leslie made her way down the aisle and finally sat down across from Frank. She reminded him of that unique type of woman that he had encountered only a few times during his life.  She was attractive, but still approachable.  She seemed to carry herself with that rare form of femininity that is definitely not masculine, but without the little girl silliness that makes it hard to take someone serious. She turned to Frank and smiled and put her  hand out to shake his. Her grip was firm. "Hi, I`m Leslie.  Charon says you are coming with us to SMI.  Welcome to the company. I told Charon I would keep an eye on you for him." The corners of her lips curled just a little like a friendly smirk as she tilted her head  towards Charon who lifted several fingers from the wheel to wave slightly  as he kept his eyes on the road. "You should know what a compliment that is. He does not give his friendship lightly."

"I can believe that. I’m not sure why he wants to be my friend, but I`m grateful. Especially now, in this place, I’ll need any friends I can get to find my way out of this. "
"The statement you just made explains perfectly why Charon is your friend. There are so many people in the underworld who deny the reality of where they are and whose fault it is they are there.  Charon has seen so many come and go that when he sees someone who “gets it” he wants to help them. So many people arrive here and they continue in the what C.S. Lewis called the “grumble that goes on forever “ and takes over all you are. There are people in Purgatory and SMA who have been there for 50-100 years. That’s a long time in human years, lucky for them it’s no time at all in God`s eyes. He is patient, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to salvation. Still, he respects our freedom to make our own decisions. That’s why the underworld… and Hell exists in its present form.

Frank tried not to be real obvious about looking  away, like he was thinking deeply as he gazed out the window, but  the truth was he was uncomfortable with Leslie`s statements.  Frank had always tried to be cool with attractive women, no matter if he had a chance with them or not, so like any man, he didn’t always speak his mind. But suddenly as he thought about everything, he actually burst out and said what he was thinking without engaging the “clutch of coolness”.

“Leslie, is it going to be like this as long as I’m here? People going on and on about judgment, personal responsibility, theology and the nature of God ad nauseum?  Because I had low expectations about the afterlife being boring, but this may be a bigger drag than I had previously imagined. I mean, I thought catechism was torture, but I’m dying here!”

Frank’s eyes got big, his nostrils flared and his face reddened.  He grinned sheepishly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say you’re boring…or Charon…but what I meant was…that…uh…”, he fumbled for words for about 5 seconds  before Leslie let out a giggle that would become a full-throw-your-head-back- belly-laugh.  It was loud and without guile and was as joyous as her red scarf. The laugh spread to the other passengers, giggles, guffaws and the odd snort until it finally arrived at the front of the bus where Charon let out an uncharacteristic high pitched giggle. Frank relaxed and his face lightened and spread into a stupid grin. It would seem he was not the first person to make this observation. Frank had stumbled upon the national joke of the underworld-everyone is incredibly bored here, but there’s not much they can do about it.