Trut.

The Den Haag - Enschede train was full this afternoon. I found, already ten minutes before departure, only with difficulty a free seat, luckily facing the direction we'd be traveling in. As the clock moved closer to 17:08, people walking passed the window toward train cars further down the line started moving faster, then running to get to the furthest possible car before the whistle blew. In the train, people shuffled past down the aisle, looking for any over-looked seats still available, bumping elbows with their briefcases and trying to catch their breath. A girl walked past against the stream wearing a rather short skirt covered by an oversized colorful sweater that I immediately envied. I wonder where she bought it? Maybe they have it in blue? Minutes later she rushed passed in the other direction, probably looking for the bathroom.
The aisle started to fill with standing passengers. A tall lady with long, greying blonde hair pulled back in an unkempt low pony-tail, draped in a large faux-fur coat the color of her hair stopped at an empty seat further down the aisle. She picked up the coat resting there and looked around. A woman sitting next to the coat said "Someone is sitting here already", to which the lady in fur responded with something most definately disagreeable, judging by the look on her face. She dropped the coat on the floor and took a seat next to the surprised woman, removed her gloves, and made herself comfortable, ignoring the protesting, shocked and amused looks of those around her. The poor coat lay in the middle of the floor as people attempted to step over, managing only to dirty either end of the sleeves and edges, the step was too big. A man sitting across from the lady in fur finally got up and bent down, his red face close to the lady in fur, mutter something about "rude" and "common decency" before picking the dusty coat off the floor and putting it up on the racks above the seats. Glances up and down the aisle looked for the unsuspecting victim who had just lost his or her seat to this unsociable assuming woman. A mini-skirt and oversized sweater made their way down the aisle, squeezing passed the standing passengers. She came to the seat where her coat had been and smiled at the lady sitting there. "I was sitting there," she must have said. "Yes, but you are not any more. You left, and you can't expect to keep your seat when the train is this full" was the probable answer, given in a quiet, determined, self-rightous tone that requires no understanding of the words to catch her meaning. All eyes were directed secretly toward or purposely away while ears strained to hear this unusual conversation. The words "bathroom" "impolite" "my coat" were heard before the girl turned to look at other passengers and ask "don't you think?". Fur lady sat stiffly, unshifting, searching through her purse with jerky movements, avoiding eye contact with the girl. More inaudible words, a look of exasperation from the girl, and then mini skirt took her coat and turn to walk the few feet away from the lady in fur that the full train would allow.
I wondered what had turned this lady so bitter. I imagined that she must be lonely, perhaps hurt in some dramatic story of love scorned or lost. But then, you never know. She may be a well-loved grandma, with dear friends from her childhood that she still visits regularly and enjoys. But today, she sat alone in her seat, pretending dignity and right.
The train stopped in Gouda, where I get out. The lady in fur put her gloves back on and closed her purse. The girl moved determinedly toward her, waiting for her moment. As the lady stood up she found herself staring into a sweet smile with angry eyes, "Have a good evening, ma'am." The lady looked up, she must have asked what she said. "Have a good evening, ma'am", the girl repeated more loudly this time. The lady muttered something in a bitter tone. "Trut", I heard her say as she turned toward me. I smiled at her and raised an eyebrow. Trut. A word akin to "bitch," I suppose, if translated loosely. Not nice, anyway.
All eyes returned to the girl to impart sympathy, avoiding any possible contact with the eyes of lady in fur who stood tall and straight under her large coat, waiting impatiently for the line to move toward the door. I wondered again how she had become as she was. I wished I had the nerve to ask her out for coffee. She must be interesting. She must be lonely. In need of a friend. But before my Pollyanna instincts could out themselves, the line moved and she was gone. She passed my window before I stood up and walked away with stiff determined steps.
A girl at the exit held the door open for people walking out. I smiled at her and said thank you before walking through the door. It is cold out tonight, I thought, as I headed down the street toward my new little home where I would wait for Luuk. Maybe we'll play another game tonight, or watch a movie.