(Again, I feel the need to offer this disclaimer: The person mentioned in these posts does not know of this blog. No one who knows her knows of this blog. No one who reads this blog knows her. Make sense?)
So Joey and I sat there, straight in the path of the oom-pah-pahs. On this day, they weren’t so loud. Considering the circumstances, though, they were just ludicrous, laughable.
Still, we sat without speaking. For far too long. Someone had to say something, if only to make the trip worth the price of gas. I hoped it would be Joey, since (I admit) she, not I, had wanted this particular meeting, But I knew I’d crack first, not out of great civility, mind you, but because I’m just impatient. Inside me was a rising, nagging irritation that time was passing us by, despite appearing to have stopped; that my tea was neither delicate nor aromatic nor flavorful; and that my head was now beginning to pound in rhythm to the satanic serenade of circus music bellowing from that monstrous pipe organ.
I spoke.
“So … Joey. Since you asked for this meeting, I assume you have something you want to say or discuss.” Her eyes were hidden behind the large, sepia-toned lenses of her sunglasses. I looked in their general direction.
“No,” she said, clipped, staccato.
I thought she was kidding; she wasn’t.
“Okaay.”
“Yeah.” She simply sat there. It seemed like some bizarre strategy, actually. She seemed comfortable with it, so I sat there, too, wishing the organist would play louder. I knew he could. I’d heard him. Come on. Play, man, play!
I spoke again, still thinking there must be something she wanted to say, good or bad.
“Uh, well, again, you called for this meeting, so I thought I’d give you the opportunity to share whatever it was you wanted. I assume there’s something?”
“No,” she said, the same way as before.
I sighed and didn’t hide it. We sat there. I took a very deep breath. Was she waiting for me to braid her hair? Do her nails? Start a pillow fight? Suddenly, my tea was tasting much better. And that cup — that cup was now endlessly fascinating:
Look at the glorious design of this sippy cup lid! Consider these textured sides, offering protection from the hot liquid without a cumbersome sleeve! Ingenious! God-breathed! A modern wonder!
Yep. Fighting off frustration, I could have been riveted by anything right then:
Observe this … this … stick that so magically wakes the flavor in my tea! Listen, enchanted, to the wondrous, dulcet tones of circus music on the Devil’s Pipe Organ!
Oom-pah-pah-oom-pah-pah ….
When she spoke, she sounded unsure.
“I feel I’ve offended you somehow.”
I stared at her, surprised to be surprised again at what I thought was a slight understatement.
“Well …. you have.”
Finally, we were talking …. sort of ….
About what? Well, that comes next …. sort of ….
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