Now he was standing in front of me, perfectly healthy.
“Hey, buddy,” I whispered.
Ryan looked at my crutches.
“Did you get better?”
I tried to smile. “I’m getting there.”
Harris stared at me.
Then he looked at my empty pant leg.
His face went pale. “So you are Micah?”
I nodded.
He covered his mouth.
“Oh, my God.”
Harris asked the driver to wait while he helped me back into the priority seat.
The elderly woman stepped aside.
For the first time since she’d boarded, she had nothing to say.
Harris turned toward her.
“This young man lost his leg saving my son’s life.”
The elderly woman said nothing.
“Four months ago, my boy ran into the street. A car was coming too fast to stop. Micah pushed him out of its path and took the impact himself.”
The man who’d told me to show some manners lowered his head.
Harris continued.
“My son came home with bruises and a broken wrist. This young man spent weeks in the hospital.”
The elderly woman gripped the pole beside her. “I didn’t know.”
Harris looked at her. “That’s exactly the problem.”
She frowned. “Well, he could have explained.”
“He tried,” a young woman near the window said.
Several passengers nodded.
Harris spoke calmly.
“Why should someone have to tell you their medical history before you treat them with respect?”
The woman opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
“You saw a young man sitting down,” Harris continued. “You decided he didn’t deserve the seat because he looked healthy.”
“I only wanted somewhere to sit.”
“Then you could have asked politely. Or asked someone else.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
I wished everyone would stop looking at me.
“Please,” I said. “Can we just leave it?”
Harris turned immediately. “Of course.”
He apologized to the driver, who explained that the bus had braked because Harris’s car had stopped abruptly ahead of it.
Harris made a quick phone call asking his driver to move it out of the way.
Then he sat across from me.
“Micah, I’ve been looking for you for months.”
“Why?”
He glanced at Ryan. “Because my son is alive.”
Harris explained that after the accident, he’d tried to learn my name.
He’d arrived just as paramedics were treating Ryan.
By the time someone told him another person had been seriously injured, I’d already been taken to a different hospital.
Later, he contacted police, spoke to witnesses, and asked whether anyone could help him reach me.
But the hospital couldn’t release my information.
And I hadn’t wanted publicity.
A reporter had called my mother during my second week in the hospital.
She’d asked whether I wanted to tell my story.
I’d refused.
I couldn’t bear the thought of strangers discussing my missing leg while I was still trying to understand what had happened.
Harris eventually placed notices in local newspapers asking the rescuer to contact his family.
I never saw them.
“My mother canceled our newspaper subscription years ago,” I told him.
He smiled sadly. “That explains one mystery.”
Then he told me how he’d found my address.
A witness had recently contacted him after seeing one of his notices.
The witness happened to live a few blocks from us and had seen me and my mom go for walks.
The witness told him where I lived.
He’d driven over with Ryan, hoping to speak to me.
But I’d already left for the hospital.
“Your mother told us which bus you usually take,” Harris said. “We followed the route.”
“You stopped in front of the bus?”
He looked embarrassed.
“I asked my driver to pull over near the stop. He misjudged the distance. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have frightened anyone.”
I shook my head.
The whole afternoon felt impossible.
Ryan tugged at my sleeve. “Micah?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Do you remember me?”
I looked at his small face. “Of course I do.”
He smiled. “I remember you too.”
Then I told them what life had been like since the accident.
For weeks, I couldn’t look at myself.
I hated needing help to shower.
I hated watching my mother carry my laundry upstairs.
I hated the way friends stopped inviting me places because they assumed I wouldn’t want to go.
Most of all, I hated feeling angry.
Because whenever I complained, someone reminded me I’d saved a child.
“You should be proud,” they said.
I was proud.
