Of Ping Pong Balls and Buses

by Maggie Lubanko

September 5, 2007

Little darling
It seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun…

I watched the thin mist of my breath spread and fade on the window as I sighed, my head rested heavily on the metal frame. The pitter-patter against the glass like those rotating lottery things you see spin-spin-spinning on TV, the numbered ping-pong balls inside all bouncing eagerly around in hopes of being that next one to fly up the vacuum. It had been raining on and off for the past three days- my first three days as a boarding student at the White Mountain School- and it was starting to wear on my sunshine soul. I turn up the volume on my new, shiny silver Ipod Nano- freshly christened the title “Sir Friedrick the First”.

Here comes the sun, doo da doo doo…

I feel him before I see him, the weird rubbery bus seat bouncing up as he plops himself next to me.

“Whatchya listening to?” his voice is stark and nasally, a harsh contrast to the melodic tones of the Beatles’ George Harrison in my ears. I lift my head from the window and turn to face him- and the nasal voice was explained. His nose was… very prominent. I can’t help but smile a little as I pull out my headphones.

“Well… it’s the Beatles. Here Comes the Sun.” I say. He tilts his head quizzically, his dark eyes quizzical. I was instantly worried I had said something wrong- this was a boy, my age, talking to me?!

He had sat down and talked to me, out of every empty seat of the bus. A junior in high school, I had never really talked with boys before- they all thought I was weird for wanting to climb trees and play outside. But here was one now- and once you got past the nose he wasn’t even all that bad looking- I mean, he had nice dark hair, olive skin, toned arms and legs, and even glasses (a somewhat strange but constant prerequisite for me)! Anyways, all I knew was that I certainly didn’t want to mess this up.

“But it’s raining out!” was his response, and I felt a stab of panic.

“Exactly!” I exclaimed, turning to face him enthusiastically, a light in my eyes.

“Whenever it’s raining, or dreary, or cloudy, or the world’s just getting me down, I listen to this song! It reminds me that the sun is gunna come out again, and.. well…that it’s alright, I guess, ya know?” I fade out of the rushed explanation, a sheepish half smile pulling at my features.

There was a pause as he seemed to consider this while I waited with bated breath-and I should have known right then. But alas, for I was young, I was eager, and I was desperate. So I was blind.

“Wow. I guess that does make sense. I’d never think to do that!” I let out my breath with another sigh- but this time of relief, and of hope.

“So, what other music do you like?” he asked- and so it began.

* * *

We would begin dating in a week to the day, the result of a sloppy, nighttime kiss beneath the apple tree on Hood’s Hill. He would tell me, mere weeks later and often after, that he fell in love with me in that moment on the bus, at that response. True or not, that didn’t make our relationship good. I gave him my devotion, my loyalty, my support, my virginity, my very soul; but it wasn’t enough to soothe the torment of his own. And I became a victim of his vengeful unhappiness, no matter how hard I fought to bring him peace.

I listened to that song far too many times in the next year and a half- until a final wintery day when, bruises on my neck and jaw but a hard-fought promise of no more to come, that song lulled me to sleep in my big comfy bed, soaked with tears. It carried me through the months to follow, through the harassment, the pain, the guilt that followed. This horror haunted me for some time, a deep suspicion creeping in like rain through the cracks in the old White Mountain School buses.

* * *

September 12, 2009

Little darling
It's been a long, cold, lonely winter…

Ping pong balls against the bus window, and I spin my finger lazily on Sir Friedrick’s wheel, his scratched screen making it hard to determine at just what volume George was serenading me. It seemed that rain was one of the main themes of my first few weeks at the University of New Hampshire, and it was already getting old.

I was on my way to the first climbing club practice, and as I rested my head heavily against the big glass windows of the bus I wondered skeptically if I’d be able remember the directions from the bus stop to the gym we were supposed to find in the neighboring town of Dover.

And then this time, I saw him before I felt him. He was looking right at me, and as my eyes met his I found there was no other way to describe him besides exceptionally puppy-doglike; with ruffled brown hair and dark eyes that reflected curiosity, excitement and goodness. He was godawful adorable.

Little darling
The smiles returning to the faces,
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes,
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes.

“Is this seat taken?” I shook my head no, and he sat down easily. “I recognized you from the climbing meeting- I’m Josh.” He held out his had. I took it, smiling.

“Hi Josh, I’m Maggie.”

“Maggie. I like that." He gestured to Sir Friedrick. "What are you listening to, Maggie?”

Memories of a eerily similar scenario. “Well… “Here Comes the Sun”- and I know it’s raining but I always love to listen to it when it’s raining because it makes me happy to think about the sun coming out again.” But I had no need to be defensive.

There was pause, bated breath, and-

“That’s beautiful,” was his response. I smiled.

Little darling
I see the ice is slowly melting.
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say,
It's alright…

Now, I find myself only listening to that song when those ping pong balls are spin, spin, spinning away…


Music Video:


The Beatles will never, ever get old- just like this song never fails to life my mood and let shine the sunshine of the soul :)