The Bag Trick

"What do you want to talk about today?"

Even though Dr. Willis asked me that at every single appointment, it still made me cringe and crease. Not because I didn't like talking about myself, my feelings or my mistakes—which, of course, I didn't—but because I worried I was becoming a broken record.

Dr. Willis would counter that concern with arguments like,

"Even if we go through the same story for the hundredth time, there'll be something of value you didn't realise before."

I tried to poo-poo that kind of thinking, but deep down I knew it made sense.

"I dunno, Doc. Can we just sit here in silence?"

Dr. Willis laughed a little.

"Well, I'll get paid either way, but I want to hear what's on your mind."

I lowered my eyes and let out a sigh that carried more than a decade's worth of fear, anger, frustration, confusion and guilt. But that wasn't what was eating at me today.

"Can we talk about my bus trip to Yoker about three weeks ago?"

"We can talk aboot whatever you want. So please, tell me about your trip to Yoker."

"It was accidental, really. I got the wrong bus and was stressed about it. Then..."

A smile blossomed across my face as I paused to reflect before continuing my story.

"She happened. Well... not straight away. First, an older gentleman came on and, of all the seats he could've chosen, picked the one next to mine. I wasn't happy about that, but I'd forgotten to do the bag trick. It's just one of those parts of the deal—the trade-off of travelling in style by public transport."

"The unwritten rules we all absorb without thinking too much about them. Nobody teaches you them. You just wake up one day and follow them like it's the most normal thing in the world."

"Don't sit next to anyone if doubles are free. Pretend not to notice if someone is crying or having an argument on their phone. The bag trick. I made the rookie mistake."

"And Mick had me locked in for conversation."

Dr. Willis laughed knowingly.

"His name was Mick and he was from Yoker. That's when I realised I'd got on the wrong bus. Apparently his missus had kicked him out because of his drinking, so he was living with his daughter and her partner. That's what he said, anyway. Like most people, rather than explaining anything too much, he just spat it all out for me to make sense of it."

"Boyfriend? Girlfriend? He wasn't entirely sure, and I just nodded like I was following."

"He'd been made redundant for reasons he danced around. I wouldn't want to cast aspersions, but it sounded like he'd had more of a hand in it than he was willing to admit."

"As we sat there, I became aware of a lass who'd got on at the same time as Mick. She had blonde hair with blue streaks and smiled as she looked up—almost through me—as she scanned the bus for an empty seat."

"You remember his name?" Dr. Willis asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"We both know that's a lie. There are, what, six hundred and fifty thousand people in Glasgow? Yet you remember one man's name from the wrong bus."

"It matters. Anyway..."

"Okay, we'll come back to that," Dr. Willis said. "What happened next with Mick?"

"I'm not sure why she stood out to me initially, as the colours weren't exactly unique. But there was something about how she carried herself. A quiet confidence. There was something behind her eyes. Sadness, maybe. No... sadness is far too simple."

"Isn't it always?" Dr. Willis asked. "Or do we just make it more complicated when it's actually simple?"

I shook my head, gently pushing thoughts of Aoife to the back of my mind.

"Ah, so Mick... well, we exchanged pleasantries. He thought it was hilarious that I wasn't in a rush to get off the bus, given I was heading in the wrong direction."

Dr. Willis laughed.

"Why didn't you?"

I paused for a moment, letting the silence become part of the session.

"I've wondered that for a long time. Well... since all this happened. It's only recently that I realised why."

I couldn't help the smile that formed on my face again. I was annoyed because I knew Dr. Willis would pounce on it like a junkie on a stray tenner skittering down an alleyway.

"Why was that?" he asked.

I looked down at the floor for a moment.

"It was because of a girl."

Dr. Willis smiled.

"Funny."

"What's funny?"

"You've spent the last ten minutes talking about a man called Mick."

"Aye. I suppose I have."

"Yet you told me this was all about a girl."

Dr. Willis raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.

"The girl with blonde hair with blue streaks."

"And a smile that was eight miles wide."

"Actually... no. That's not quite right."

"It wasn't the smile. I mean... it was."

I searched for the right words.

"It was who she smiled at, what it meant and how I felt."

"Once Mick got off at his stop, the bus driver told us he was taking his break before heading back towards Glasgow. That's when she walked over to me."

"She stood beside my seat as the bus gasped and sighed. It was silent. We were the only passengers still on."

"I see," Dr. Willis said. "Then what happened?"

"Well... I tried my best to ignore her. She looked down at me. I looked out the window. That way that we all do when we want to politely, silently convey to another person that we don't want to speak with them."

I paused again, fighting the ridiculous grin stretching across my face.

Dr. Willis looked over his glasses, full of curiosity.

"And?"

"She sat down beside me anyway. Another rule breaker."

Dr. Willis chuckled gently.

"Just like you. How did that make you feel?"

"Well... different. Although I can usually fake it, I find social situations difficult, as we've discussed. Every conversation feels like an exam I'd forgotten to study for while everyone else had revised. So I was completely astounded by how well I'd held my own with Mick."

"Besides, her scent slipped into my nose and lungs and it was heavenly. She smelled like summer had somehow found its way onto a Glasgow bus."

"Who spoke first?" Dr. Willis asked.

"She did, and that was when I lost myself a little."

"Your nerves?"

"No. Quite the opposite. Her voice was quiet and, though she did her best to fake it, I could hear the awkwardness."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"Just like you."

"Exactly."

"That must have been a relief."

"Yes. I didn't even really think about worrying much. We got lost in conversation, and she asked if Mick was a friend."

"I said, 'Yes. Now he is.' And we both laughed."

"It was strange. Actually... it was strange how normal it all felt. She saw a mark on the back of my hand. A scar. And she didn't shrink back from it as others have in the past. She asked if she could touch it... then immediately curled into a ball of worry and nerves while still sitting perfectly normally on the bus."

"What did you do?"

"I let her touch it, and there was electricity. Which sounds like one of those clichés or a scene from a Richard Curtis movie."

"But that doesn't mean it wasn't true or special," Dr. Willis said. "Humans are social creatures. We crave association and companionship."

"Her hands were soft and gentle. She asked how long it had been since my last surrender."

"Surrender," Dr. Willis repeated.

I could already guess what he was going to ask next as Dr. Willis chewed the word around his mouth.

We don't normally speak of the surrender—or the release—in our sessions. It's more medically based.

"That's a very specific word for a stranger to use," Dr. Willis said. "What did you say?"

I gulped a little, letting a couple of beats of my heart recall it before I recounted it.

"I told her the truth. That it had been six months ago. When the noise was too much and I felt that urge, that pull."

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds before I broke the silence.

"And do you know what, Doc? She didn't flinch, pull away or even give me that pitying smile and gentle 'aw' that so many do when they're trying desperately to make me feel better. She continued to smile, squeezed my hand tightly and said four words: 'I've resisted for three.'"

The room fell completely silent. Even the gentle, consistent hum of the traffic beyond the safe realm of Dr. Willis's office dulled away.

Dr. Willis didn't write any notes or say anything. He just sat back and let the beautiful, quiet brilliance of those words hang between us.

"We sat next to each other for the rest of the journey back into the city centre. We didn't say much, really. Just watched the grey Glasgow rain form rivulets on the window. But our hands stayed locked. In the understanding. Once we reached Hope Street, she gave my hand one last squeeze, smiled and walked off the bus."

I paused, looked at the rug covering the beechwood floor and felt a laugh bubble up inside me.

Before Dr. Willis could say anything, I continued.

"The thing is, Doc, for the last ten years of my life I've been an expert at hiding. I did the bag trick. Looked out windows. Let opportunities walk out of my life as soon as they came into it because it was safer. But as I watched her blue-streaked hair wave goodbye as she headed towards Central Station, I realised I didn't want her to become a ghost. I didn't know her name. I don't even remember deciding to do it. My body just propelled me. You know when you say something before thinking it through? My legs did the equivalent. So I leapt out of my chair."

"Okay, when I say leapt, I almost tumbled down the aisle of the bus and out into the pouring rain after her. It was only when I was halfway between the bus and her that I realised I wasn't daydreaming."

Dr. Willis leaned forward, dropping his professional countenance, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"You chased after her?"

"Aye. I caught up with her outside the station, panting like breathing was going out of style, soaked through to my skin. She turned around, slightly shocked but smiling."

"'Sorry, I forgot to ask your name!' I blurted out with the same amount of class as a door-to-door salesman, but I didn't care.

"She smiled as rain dripped from her nose and chin. Then she smiled that eight-mile-wide smile again.

"'Oh, it's Aoife.'

"I nodded and smiled.

"'I'm Jamie. Good luck with month four, Aoife.'

"She whispered in response,

"'Good luck with month seven, Jamie.'

"And then I turned around, got on my actual bus and headed home. That was it. We didn't exchange numbers and I've never seen her again, and I don't suspect I ever will."

"But I'll never forget her."

As silence fell across the therapy room, I didn't feel the need to shrink back into discomfort.