in passing
I was in a hurry yesterday. I was helping out at a computer lab in the library when the call came in that I was needed at the help desk. Since there was a crowd of clients with problems, I noted that it would be awhile.
The last guy was a writer; he was auditing until his book was finished. I helped him extensively until finally I could delay no longer and took off for my next assignment. About 50 yards away now, he called after me. When the man reached me, he slipped $10 in my hand and thanked me for all the help. I probably should have denied the tip, but currently my debts prevent me from turning down any money.
As I reached the door connecting the lab to the library, the swinging of the door startled the girl on the other side. She said "oh!"
Then she saw my face and said, "hi."
I almost did not hear it. I certainly didn't register her face, and hurried on my way as if she was talking to the guy behind me. It was only later that I registered who it may have been. Was she ever that height? Could she really be blind to what she did to me just nine months ago?
More than likely, she did. The greeting, 'hi', is weighted with an entire story of meeting, intimacy, secrets, and avoidance mixed with facade and sadness. If I had realized who she was at the moment of our latest passing, would I have stayed and talked? Yes. Would I have been honest? No. I, too, would have played along with the charade of innocence.
A few months ago, I attended the speaking engagement of a major philosopher Harry Frankfurt (author of 'On Bullshit'). She sat in the back row, far enough away so that she may not have noticed me. If she had, there was nothing she could have done anyway. I couldn't help it; I stared at her for almost two hours. It was not out of longing or obsession, but instead her face became the background screen for the movie I played of our short relationship, and what went wrong.
I do not think she knows that she was the last one to break my heart. I had not realized it myself until after she had gone. I have not let myself be taken since, I do not allow myself to get too close. I do not believe she knows this, either.
The last guy was a writer; he was auditing until his book was finished. I helped him extensively until finally I could delay no longer and took off for my next assignment. About 50 yards away now, he called after me. When the man reached me, he slipped $10 in my hand and thanked me for all the help. I probably should have denied the tip, but currently my debts prevent me from turning down any money.
As I reached the door connecting the lab to the library, the swinging of the door startled the girl on the other side. She said "oh!"
Then she saw my face and said, "hi."
I almost did not hear it. I certainly didn't register her face, and hurried on my way as if she was talking to the guy behind me. It was only later that I registered who it may have been. Was she ever that height? Could she really be blind to what she did to me just nine months ago?
More than likely, she did. The greeting, 'hi', is weighted with an entire story of meeting, intimacy, secrets, and avoidance mixed with facade and sadness. If I had realized who she was at the moment of our latest passing, would I have stayed and talked? Yes. Would I have been honest? No. I, too, would have played along with the charade of innocence.
A few months ago, I attended the speaking engagement of a major philosopher Harry Frankfurt (author of 'On Bullshit'). She sat in the back row, far enough away so that she may not have noticed me. If she had, there was nothing she could have done anyway. I couldn't help it; I stared at her for almost two hours. It was not out of longing or obsession, but instead her face became the background screen for the movie I played of our short relationship, and what went wrong.
I do not think she knows that she was the last one to break my heart. I had not realized it myself until after she had gone. I have not let myself be taken since, I do not allow myself to get too close. I do not believe she knows this, either.