She's a portrait of the bad attitude that's become our national standard. Unhappy for no particular reason. I've been watching her for weeks. Silently stalking her as she came into the office. Every day she shows up with the same frazzled look. Like her alarm clock or her new car or the person serving her coffee stole the few minutes she needed to get it together. The look didn't fit with the picture of her. She was so pretty. With her new outfits and professionally styled hair.
I'm not the prettiest girl in the room or the most intelligent. When asked, I speak my mind. And I admit when I don't know something. The only thing striking about me is my sense of self. Don't take me wrong. I'm not trying to affect bravado or pride about the fact. But it's the truth. I'm not confused by myself. She, on the other hand, confounded me.
Is life that easy for so many people? I've always figured happy families and idyllic childhood was a myth. I certainly don't know any people that haven't suffered. She acts like the world owes her something. Like she doesn't expect hardship. I guess if you think that way the real world must be a smack in the face. I wish my confusion was a good excuse or even an explanation but it isn't. I know what I did was wrong.
See, I followed her home one night. She lives in this little cottage at the back of an apartment complex. I kept waiting for the security guy to catch me but he never came. I stood outside her window watching her through the space between her curtains. For two hours she went from one phone call to another. The TV was on so I couldn't hear what she was saying but I couldn't stop watching her. The moment one call ended she paused only long enough to dial the next number. She ate a bag of microwave popcorn, her dinner, perched on the arm of her couch, the phone cradled between shoulder and ear.
A cat sent me home. It jumped through the bushes. She looked towards the cat, right at me. At least I thought she looked at me. I scurried back to my car. It wasn't until I was safely behind my own apartment walls that I realized she couldn't have seen me. The insight didn't help me sleep. There was no pleasure to be found in my crime. Whatever curiosity made me follower her was only complicated by my new found guilt.
The next morning it was the same as always. A black cloud followed her into the office. Jack, the office manager, walked up to her desk. He asked what she did last night. She said nothing. I must have been staring because she looked over at me with a little frown. Quickly, I looked away. She doesn't like me. None of the ladies in the office do. I smile at them and they smile at me but it doesn't go any further. Not that dislike stops them from including me in female rituals.
The receptionist was getting married. There was a bridal shower at the end of the week. I was invited by default. I said I would bring my homemade tamales. I spent the next few nights trying to forget what I'd done. I prepared the masa, simmered the filling, wrapped the mess into corn husks, and steamed the finished product. The savory smell of fresh tamales followed me into a restless bed every night.
I arrived early to the party. This meant I got to sit alone in a strange living room and think about my life. The bride's friends were all in the kitchen laughing. It'd be worse to stand, unwanted, as they laughed around me so I waited for my coworkers to show up. A half hour later the party was underway. We played various inane games and made idle chatter. It was the closest thing to hell I can think of.
The question was wandering around the room. I could feel it inching closer to me. The women who were married either didn't get the question or deflected it with a simple answer. When the question came to her I waited with baited breath. I think that's when I figure it all out and it was like an ugly bubble burst in my chest. The bad part of knowing yourself is that you can't hide from the truth very long.
"Oh," she fluttered coyly at the room, "I don't know." Then sarcastically "Maybe when someone asks me!"
Laughter and comforting sounds echoed around me. And, because life is truly unfair, I was then the only person left in the room to get the question. One of the girls turned to me with a polite smile, "And what about you?"
"When do I think I'll get married?" I repeated back dumbly.
"Yeah."
"I don't..." I could feel all the eyes on me but hers burned into my skin as I stumbled, "I mean, never."
"Oh, c'mon," she prompted from across the room, "you don't mean that."
I sat upright and stared straight at the object of my affection. "No...I do mean that...I'm-I'm gay." The sudden fall of silence prompted me to blunder my proclamation further. "Lesbian, I mean. Like, I only like girls."
With a tight little smile she replied, "Yes, we get it."
And that was it. They all went back to ignoring me. My heart was beating in my chest and I was sweating. I tried to calm down. It wasn't like it was a secret or anything. The guys in the office knew. Next week they'd brush off the ladies scandalized comments. I was a hard worker and a generally pleasant person. The men appreciated those qualities. They said as much.
And, except for the rare crush, I was generally pleased with my life. It wasn't a perfect life but who has perfect? The ones that think they have perfect are perfectly delusional and the ones that realize they don't spend too much time dwelling in their imperfection. It's better just to get on with it. When things don't go your way just brush yourself off and keep going.
So, that's exactly what I did. The next week started as it normally does. I went to my desk and turned on my computer. There was a lot of work to do. And when noon arrived I took myself to the lunchroom. She was sitting at the table alone. I realized I hadn't noticed her that morning. I blinked and turned to the refrigerator. I didn't care that she was covered by a dark cloud created by a new day. She wasn't worth my time. She wasn't deserving of my affection.
I warmed my tamales in the microwave and went back to my desk. My life was just fine. I wasn't going to wait for her black cloud to rain on my bright day.
The End.
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