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Anada 025
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A A N N A A D D A A
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A "Creature of the City" aNAda #25 A
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A by TanAdept 03/09/00 A
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The day I met her, it was the early afternoon, but the clouds and
rain made it seem like the sun had already set. There was a scaffold up,
and she was standing under it, out of the rain. She was looking across the
street, as if waiting for something to happen. People passed in front of
her on the sidewalk, hurrying to get out of the rain.
I noted a gap in the traffic and headed across the street, jumping
puddles on either side of the road. A few more steps brought me under the
scaffold, and I took the opportunity to pull my hair out of my eyes.
She was right there; I wasn't in a hurry. What was she looking at?
I decided to stop. She didn't seem to be watching the people passing on the
side of the street I had just crossed from, but rather looking at something
higher. I wondered what she was thinking about, and then took a minute or
two to clear my mind. I stared across the street and watched people with
umbrellas navigating down the wet sidewalk.
I was a bit lost for the words to begin a conversation with my
neighbor, but then let words flow without thinking them over too much. "I'm
looking around for a gift for my sister, would you like to come and look
with me?" Not exactly a typical pickup line, but it was what lept to mind,
and it was honest--a second opinion would be helpful.
To my surprise, she nodded, though without seeming particularly
interested. We went halfway down the block and she pointed to the right at
some sort of antique shop. It didn't seem like quite the right place to buy
something for my sister, but I wasn't about to argue and run the risk of an
all-too-quick alienation.
When we entered, I followed her lead for a bit, and then broke off.
There were a number of items I thought "kind of cool", but nothing I would
actually buy for myself, much less as a gift. She handled a few items,
lifting them, looking at them from all angles, and then putting them down.
I thought she looked even more sad from looking at these antiques, but
figured it was just a trick of the light.
We continued down the street, and I started talking. I realized I
hadn't introduced myself, and took care of that. I told some of my classic
personal stories, those which usually get a chuckle out of my audience. I
told her a little about my interests. We were rained upon.
Occasionally, she laughed, but mostly she was serious. Not that she
said much, but her eyes said more than what I'd managed to say in our time
together.
After a couple of hours, and a few more stores, I thought to "make a
move". I invited her to my place. I didn't really expect her to say yes,
and she didn't. Somehow, though, I managed to get through my question
without stumbling. She shook her head and I asked if she'd come back
tomorrow.
That evening, I didn't have any plans, so I went and cleaned up my
apartment, top to bottom. I rationalized things with myself that my place
really wasn't ready for guests anyhow, and that I should have everything
tidy before I brought over a new friend.
Sunday, it was raining again. I took a drive, found a place to park
a half mile away, and walked to the same overhang where we had stood the day
before. I arrived wet. She was already there.
I stood by her and we looked across the street. Today, there were
two men working on putting up a new sign on the building directly on the
other side. And older neon sign was on the ground, and a new moving letter
sign was going up. They struggled with getting the sign in place while I
strugged for words. I decided against speaking and alternately watched the
workmen and her. I couldn't tell if she was sad, interested, zoning out, or
all three, but, then, I didn't want to stare.
I at least gave her my number. While I didn't expect her to call,
she did accept the scrap of paper with my name and number I handed her.
We went on in much the same way the next week. I would always try to
invite her home with me, out of the rain. She continued to decline, but I
knew that some day she would come along. I knew she couldn't, but I knew
she would.
The third Saturday, it wasn't raining. I looked around my apartment,
and scrounged up enough for a picnic. I filled up a box -- it wasn't a
picnic basket, but it would do. I went out, found her, as always, under the
scaffold, and told her that we should go on a picnic. She told me that we
couldn't, that she couldn't. I insisted. There was a park close enough,
and it was a sunny day. How could we pass up the opportunity?
She frowned, and followed. At the park, I laid out the oversized
towel, and began pulling things out. I looked over, and saw that she looked
extraordinarily pale in the sun.
She looked back at me, not quite meeting my eyes. For the first
time, I actually heard her voice as she spoke. "You know I can't live out
here," she said. I nodded sadly as she faded away to transparency before my
eyes.
I ate my cheese and crackers, drank half a bottle of juice, put
everything back in the box and headed home.
One weekend, on a rainy day, I met a woman who wasn't there. To me,
she was as real as the cement beneath my feet. She was as real as the
clouds in the sky above, and she was as real as the glow from the neon
lights across the street. But she was a creature of the city.
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{ (c)2000 aNAda e'zine * * aNAda025 * by TanAdept }
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