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Jon?

Continuation
Friday. 9.9.11 1:30 am

There's an old country song by called "Waiting on a woman" that just about every man of any age can relate to. In it, an old guy laments to a young guy about how much time men spend in the very same precarious situation the two protagonists found themselves: waiting on a woman. Some of my earliest memories consists of visions of my younger self clutching my mother's shopping bag in one of those mid-level outlet stores like JCPenny, making like Karl Malone and impatiently posting up against a wall, waiting for her to finish so we could go home. Outside of monitoring walled clocks like they were Gitmo detainees and I the guard, the thing I did mostly to pass time was observing those around me. Back then, I swore to myself that once I reached adulthood, never again would I spend my free time in some department store waiting on a woman to finish shopping.

Two decades later and I can only be half-pleased with myself. I kept my word when it came to not waiting in department stores, but I'm 23 and still waiting on a woman. Or more specifically, my kid sister, who in a department store next door to the coffeeshop I'm waiting in. And just like twenty years ago, I'm passing the time by watching the people around me.

A couple in scrubs is studying at the table directly across from the loveseat I'm stuck in. The guy, who both looks and sounds to Pakistani to me, explains some theory that's way over my head to the girl accompanying him. The two of them are seated on the same side of the table, peering over what I assume from my vantage point to be a text book. In one motion, he flips the page of their book and casually raises his hand toward her face and pushes loose strands of blonde hair out from in front of her green eyes. I watch her look up at him thankfully before turning back to the book and asking a question.

Sitting down at the table beside the couple are middle aged men having a discussion about picking up other men later in the afternoon. It wasn't until one of them said the name "Houshmanzadeh" that I realized they were discussing fantasy football and not the more interesting same-sex orgy party I assumed they were planning. It was during my disappointment over the lost opportunity to eavesdrop on the logistics of an orgy planing that I first noticed the couple had made their way out of the cafe. The table was empty only briefly before I saw him walk in.

I knew it was coming, but it was still unnerving to watch him walk in and see her follow shortly after. He led her to that same table the couple sat at just moments before but didn't look my way. She didn't see me.

I watched him -- this man of in his forties who looked to be in his thirties and moved as though he were sixty, get up to order their drinks.

He looked like shit. What had once been fine threads of ebon were now an assortment of white, black, and gray. It was as if someone had clawed a checkerboard into a black satin sheet. Those stone colored eyes that encouraged me as a youth and terrified me as an adolescent had grown weary -- deep concaves had formed around them as his eyes were baggier than a WuTang concert.

I watched him, staring at her, not looking at anything.

They made small talk. He brought up work, she brought up going back to school. He mentioned her mother, she mentioned her studies. He spoke of a doctor. she sighed. Sensing a shift in her mood, he excused himself from the table and took a step back from his seat.


With her hand clasped firmly to a glass of tea, we both watched her dip her finger into the lip of the cup in the universal test. Once she placed the cup back down,
he casually raised his hand toward her face and pushed loose strands of red hair out from in front of her gray eyes. I watch her turn look up as if to say thank you, but all three of us knew that wasn't possible.


I wondered if he blamed himself.




I wondered if he blamed me.

Recommended by 1 Member
randomjunk
9 Comments.


Your lady life is so interesting!
» middaymoon on 2011-09-09 09:28:21

I didn't wish for anything.

A film about your life as described in this blog would be most appropriate in black and white, I think.
» randomjunk on 2011-09-10 01:08:49

I can't help but think that life is a god damn soap opera.
» Nuttz on 2011-09-10 10:55:29

Your various entries in various accounts + your comments on my site + that random spiel on the shoutbox. You're like a chickflick that hasn't resolved itself yet!
» middaymoon on 2011-09-10 12:53:18

I'm glad it's fiction, because even know I do not understand all the ramifications of the end, I can tell it's some pretty heavy stuff. Don't explain it to me, though! That would ruin it.
» middaymoon on 2011-09-10 04:19:31

It's hardcore and scary dude.
» middaymoon on 2011-09-10 05:48:43

OK I'VE WAITED LONG ENOUGH
» Zanzibar on 2011-10-14 09:57:24

I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR LIFE NOW
» Zanzibar on 2011-10-14 09:57:42

SO UPDATE YOURSELF SON
» Zanzibar on 2011-10-14 09:58:07

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