Tuesday, April 06, 2004

It’s Almost Impossible

It’s unusual for me to leave my desk in the middle of the day, but the idea of eating a cookie got into my head and I just had to step out to to bakery around the corner.  It had been outrageously nice, warm days with blue skies and a light breeze but no clouds ... I noticed right away that a lot of people were utilizing outdoor space, lounging and lingering as they might.  Everywhere, little alcove cubbies teemed with conversational knots. 

I walked amid the network of pedestrian alleys that honeycomb my block, out to the bakery through a particularly nice path lined on either side with angled benches backing into planters thick with clover that contributed to a soothing, secluded feeling.  As elsewhere, this area was densely occupied, but as I began to make my way through and automatically scanned the crowd, I noticed those two at the end pretty quickly.

Well, the woman, really.  The guy wasn’t too remarkable, except, of course, he was with her.  Though she and her lanky friend whose back was to me sat all the way at the far extreme of the path, I immediately noticed her masses of bonde hair in the sunlight, her tall lean form and light sundress.  It almost felt as if she caught my eye for an instant but that was crazy talk.  In the meantime, I did get a clear vibe: discomfort.  She didn’t look like she was where she wanted to be.  As I made my way down the path and eventually past her I glanced toward her - saw that her companion was a pale, closely-shorn skinny guy in a knit tennis shirt, chinos and a baseball cap.  He was splayed out on his little bench self-indulgently, maybe even a little petulantly.  Was he slowly shaking his head?  My eyes swept over him without pausing on their way to her. 

I really think that we briefly caught each other’s eye except I really couldn’t afford to look for long enough to tell.  She was young and stunning, apple pie america with extra ice cream, but she sat rather rigidly and her persona seemed totally blank.  I heard her say, as I went past, in a voice both sympathetic and noncommittal, “Oh yes, uh huh, that’s right, naturally...”

I went to the bakery, ordered one each of the fresh oatmeal raisin and the fresh semisweet chocolate chip, and I was heading back to the office within two minutes.  As I went around the corner where they sat I heard a snippet of his side of the conversation: “It’s really hard, you know, when you’ve been celibate for four years; when you’ve been celibate for eight years it’s almost impossible...”

I went on, didn’t take a seat to eavesdrop or even turn my head, though curiosity consumed me.  But as I reached the foot of the path and made my left onto the main walkway toward my building, I glanced back towards her.  She was still sitting there, shining in her spot of sun, looking for all the world as if she wanted to bolt at a dead gallop, and from a hundred feet away I could feel her looking back towards me, her large green eyes watching me as I walked away with the tantalyzed frustration of a chain gang convict watching traffic rolling freely by.