Saturday, November 6, 2010

A Certain Empathy


Driving to work yesterday, I passed what I am certain was a student from Country Club College walking along the sidewalk in last night's party dress holding her shoes in one hand and her cell phone to her ear with the other.  She was crying into the phone, the dark makeup around her eyes smeared.  The dress was a pale blue, strapless, cut mid thigh with sharp pleats from the waist that made it stand out from her leg as if it were pegged.  Her hair came to the top of her shoulders, natural blonde.  I am horrible.  I just wanted to get out of the car and. . . photograph her.  The image is archetypal for me, iconic.  I knew I couldn't, of course.  I've not gone that far over the edge yet.  But maybe I need to.

I assumed, perhaps wrongly, that something had happened with her boyfriend that had broken her heart.  It was a loving heart, I was certain, and it was big and puffy with sadness just then.  Without thinking it, I knew she would see her boyfriend again and they would argue until they made up with tears and kisses and relief, and that would last for a little while.  And next time, there would be no tears, and her heart would not be big with love but would shrink with anger, and she would be finished with him no matter how he begged or promised.  And maybe she would never fall in love like that again or not for a long while, but she would find someone who was good to her and kind and did all the right things, and though he brought her no real excitement he would be a good man and a good husband and a good father.  After college, they would get married and he would begin a promising career.  They would buy their first small house in a very nice neighborhood, and all the neighbors would be glad to see them.  She would get pregnant with the first child and everything would be exciting and she would be happy.  He would get a promotion and they would have to move and all the neighbors would hate to see them go, but the next house would be bigger and they would fill it with lovely furniture.  And then the second child.  The years would pass and they would be active in the community, she mostly, but he would support her and the children in a manner to be envied.  And it would not be until the children got into high school that they would have time to think it all over and wonder.

That is what I thought without having to think it as I watched her walking down the sidewalk in her bare feet.  But god knows, something much worse may have happened to her, something so bad that it would take a lifetime to recover.  Who knows such things.  I have seen enough of the other story, though, to give it pretty good odds.

5 comments:

  1. "And next time, there would be no tears, and her heart would not be big with love but would shrink with anger.."

    Is that true?

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  2. "Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea ..."

    from Ezra Pounds' Portrait d'une Femme"

    ReplyDelete
  3. @Sean - Well maybe not the very next time but after awhile it will be true...but I shouldn't be answering for CS...

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  4. Q and R. It is true. There are other truths, but this is true.

    L, My mind? Me? The Sargasso Sea is a stagnant body of water in the Atlantic, the graveyard of ships, the place of that strange triangle where things just disappear. Me? My mind?

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  5. no no

    the "lady" who emerged from your full of promise damsel in distress. after the boring but safe and rich husband and all.

    silly.

    ReplyDelete