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OTHELLO
By m. lecrivain
( an 85% true tail)
 The dumpy redhead has a benign brain tumor. She’s not aware of it. The burden of a finger-sized growth makes her tired, and taxes her dwindling reserve of common sense.
She boards Metro Bus 333 at the corner of Venice and Sawtelle. Her gaze zeroes in on the row of seats to her left. Clearly marked with placards"for the handicapped/elderly," she shoves her bulk down next to a tiny old Mexican woman whose bony frame is pinched against the metal plate that seperates the seats from the stairwell.
An older, rotund black woman glares at the redhead. She lifts her cane and shakes it at Red, trying to dispel her from the seat.
"What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have any sense?"
Red, staring off into space, is startled.
"Huh? I beg your pardon. Are you speaking to me?"
"Get your fat ass out of that seat. Don’t you see you’re hurting the poor little old lady?"
Little Old Lady, now becomes the subject of confrontation, gestures one hand toward Cane Lady in a futile attempt to silence her.
But Cane Lady isn’t listening.
"Get your fat ASS out of that seat! You’re not handicapped!"
Red blushes, flustered.
"Why are you yelling at me? Don’t you know it’s not nice to yell at people and marmosets?"
"WHAT!?" splutters Cane Lady. "What kind of crazy talk is that? I’m telling you to get your fat ASS out of that seat!"
"I’m not hurting anybody, but you’re upsetting the marmoset on your shoulder. His tail’s twitching. He might bite you."
Cane Lady looks down, and then flits her hand over her shoulder.
"There’s no mamo-thingie on me!"
Red shakes her head.
"Really, I wish you would lower your voice. He’s pulling at his ear tufts.
You shouldn’t upset him."
The bus driver turns on the loudspeaker.
"Everyone pipe down, or I’ll call the police!"
Cane Lady purses her lips together, and then leans forward.
"Look," she says, "You got to have more respect for folks. You can’t sit in the handicapped seats. They’re for old folks and cripples. You aren’t either."
Red smiles. "I’m not hurting anybody. Am I?" She turns to Little Old Lady.
Little Old Lady offers up a weak smile and fidgets, now even more uncomfortable at being the focus of attention than at being squished against the metal plate. "No se. Déjeme Sola" she answers, and squirms again.
Red smiles. "I wouldn’t hurt anyone. And I like your marmoset. He looksvery dashing in his top hat and tuxedo."
Cane Lady scowls. She leans back, grabs onto her cane and with difficulty, pulls herself out of her seat.
Little Old Lady reaches up and pulls the cord to signal the bus driver to stop. The bus suddenly jerks, and Cane Lady stumbles, catching her free hand on a pole. Red cups her hands as if to catch something.
She smiles again. Her right hand tenderly strokes the air above her curled left palm.
"Oh, I wish I could keep you, but my cats would eat you," Red sighs.
Red rises out of her seat. Little Old Lady, finally free of Red’s crushing weight, scrambles down the stairwell through the open doors.
Red turns to Cane Lady. She reaches her hand up toward Cane Lady, who cringes with her eyes closed, frightened.
"Here. He’s okay, just a little spooked," she says, touching Cane Lady’s shoulder.
Cane Lady opens her eyes. Red is now in the stairwell.
"Oh, his name is Othello. Bye." The doors close behind her.
Cane Lady sits back down, stunned. She feels something soft whisper against her cheek, and reaches up to swat it away - but nothing is there.
"Crazy folks," she mutters, "They’ll never understand the meaning of the word ‘handicapped..."
copyright m. lecrivain 2005
m. lecrivain runs Poetic Diversity in Los Angeles.
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