She asked that the food be “to go” but she ate it there at
the sushi counter in my presence. Was she indecisive, confused, had she changed
her plans, or did she just prefer the comfort of the flimsy plastic bowl?
She was a
woman, so she baffled me anyway, no matter.
I watched
her eat in silence and thought of all the women I had ever known. The women who
had hurt me, the women I had hurt. I thought of my mother’s bruised face, my
father’s fist. I thought of my ex-wife’s bruised face, my fist.
I observed
her, young and unscathed, beautiful and careless. My hands I used to rub my
temples. The pads of my fingers were rough.
I wanted to
talk to her.
What time
is it, I asked her, Do you know? She smiled a small smile, an easy smile with a
small mouth.
It’s four
forty, she said, after she checked her phone that was set on the counter. Then
she went back to her bowl.
I wanted to
talk to her more.
Her voice
was musical, small but musical. She was small in every way and I realized that
I wanted to protect her from everyone in the room and outside of it including
myself.
I was
working through my thoughts, wondering what I could say to this woman,
wondering if I could make myself talk to her, could I overcome my fears, could
I break through the dim silence with light words, could she look at me with the
small smile again, would I be able to do this right this time? I opened my mouth to allow something useful fall out of it but nothing fell.
Then a man
walked in, her small smile to dust and a large smile taking its place, he
collected the girl with a kiss. Her
heart swelled with her expression. Small in body, she was this man’s universe. I could feel it
everywhere in the room.
They left,
bowls in hand, exchanging words, looks, glances, laughs, questions, communications. So that’s why she
wanted it to go.
I never got
her name, I realized, but I never hit her either, so I was happy with the
course of the relationship we had had and resolved to have more like it in the
future.
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