A young woman named Elena was waiting for her bus at a neighborhood stop. Behind her, on an old weathered bench, sat an elderly man with a set of gardening tools. From the look of it, he was headed out of town to tend a small plot of land.
Elena drifted into a pleasant daydream about how nice it would be to have a little place of her own someday, somewhere she could grow tomatoes, cucumbers, and berries. As a child, she had loved digging in the dirt during summers spent with relatives in the country. Lost in those thoughts, she barely noticed when her bus pulled up.
The doors swung open, and she turned to the older man. “Go ahead,” she said politely, stepping aside so he could board first.
“Thanks, but I can manage,” he muttered. Elena ignored the gruff tone and stayed where she was. The man climbed the steps with effort and showed the driver his senior transit pass.
“We don’t take that,” the driver said flatly, turning back toward the wheel. “You can’t do that,” Elena said at once. “He has a valid pass. You can’t just refuse him.”
“Come on, old man, move it, you’re holding everybody up,” someone from the back called out. The man had no choice but to step off the bus. Elena stood there furious at the whole thing. She decided on the spot she wasn’t riding with that driver and would wait for the next bus.
“That was wrong,” she said to the man once the bus pulled away. “He had no right to put you off like that.” “Why do you care?” the old man snapped. “I can handle myself.” Then he pressed a hand to his chest.
“What’s happening? Is it your heart? Do you need water? Air?” Elena asked, her voice tightening. “Nothing,” he said through clenched teeth. With a shaking hand, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled slip of paper. “What does it say?” Elena asked. “Name of my medication.”
“These are strong pain meds,” she said, glancing at the note. “Cancer,” he said, barely getting the word out. “That cursed disease.” Elena folded the paper and tried to steady him.
“Stay right here. I’m going to find help.” She looked around in a panic. There wasn’t a pharmacy or urgent care in sight.
Then she saw a car coming down the avenue. One glance at the old man told her he was getting worse fast. Without thinking of anything else, she stepped into the road and waved both arms.
“Please stop!” she shouted. The sedan screeched to a halt, and an angry young man jumped out.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he barked. A well-dressed young woman in the passenger seat stepped out more slowly, clearly annoyed but curious enough to watch. Elena kept talking.
“Please, help me get this man to the ER. He’s in bad shape.” “Your grandfather?” the driver asked. “No.” “So let me get this straight,” he said. “You’re asking me to drive a total stranger to the hospital?”
Elena hesitated for half a second. “I just finished medical school. I know what this looks like, and he needs help now.”
“Please,” she said. The driver finally headed toward the bench, but his companion called after him. “Mike, are you serious?” “Give me a minute,” he said.
