“Vin. Is that
short for Vincentia?”
“No.” I
answer. “Vema.” I look down at the table.
“Vema? I don’t
think that I’ve heard that name before.”
“It means,
‘goddess of sex.' Hopefully there aren’t too many people out
there lined up to name their daughters Vema. Which would be why you've never heard it before."
“Where does the
‘Vin’ come from?”
I could say
something rude. It really is none of his business. Today things are
not what they usually are. I decide to answer, honestly. “When I
was in high school I had trouble telling the difference between the brake and the
accelerator. There were a couple of really wild rides during Driver’s
Education. The Fast and the Furious had just come out.”
“Vin...as in Vin
Diesel.” He says aloud, trying out my explanation. “Interesting.”
Not-Necessarily Mean
Man shifts from foot to foot. I can’t help but wonder if he was on
his way to the restroom when he stopped at my booth.
“We’ve had a
nice exchange of words here. It would be customary for you to invite
me to sit down.” He says.
Really? “Or you
could ask permission to sit down.”
“Not a people
person?” He asks.
I could take
his cue, apologize, and ask him to sit down. But, he did
invade my space by looking over my shoulder uninvited.
“I didn’t say that I’m not a people person.” I answer.
“I’m...choosy.”
“Choosy?”
“Yes.”
“So when you see someone that you want to befriend you reach right
out and start talking to them?”
“Yes...no.”
“So you don’t get out much which makes you not a people person.”
He concludes.
I
could lie about such matters. I am tempted to lie about my social life several times a day.
I don’t. “Growing up was
unique in my family. As a child, I recognized the need to learn how
to be alone for several hours at a time. So I learned how to be alone. And be
okay with it. Even happy.”
“Doesn’t it feel empty to spend so much time alone?” He asks.
“Yes and no.” Not-Necessarily Mean Man is quickly becoming Nosy Man.
“My life doesn’t look like everyone else’s does but it works
for me, much of the time.”
“If you don’t spend time with other people, doesn’t that go
against nature? Human beings are a social species. It’s why we
live in communities.”
Nosy
Man. He has definitely become NOSY MAN. I think about his comments
and decide to hit him from the other side of his own argument. “Let
me ask you this. If I spend my afternoon today at home in my
apartment with a cup of tea, and a book and you spend the afternoon
in a coffee house surrounded by people but you spend the whole time
with your face to your phone...what’s the difference?”
He doesn’t stop to think before answering, “I’m with other
people.” He says.
“You
aren’t talking to them. You aren’t interacting with them
directly.”
“I
have the option to interact.”
“True.”
“You
don’t.” He counters.
“I
still do. Granted, I do have to gather my things, lock the
apartment, and take a walk to get to a place with people that I can
interact with. But it is only a brief walk.” I
ask again. “How much of a
difference is there, really?”
He
didn’t have a quick comeback for the question.
“Let
me ask you something else. Do you know how to be alone and be
comfortable with it? Do you know how long you can be alone without
any human interaction whatsoever before it has a direct effect on
you?”
“No.”
He answers.
“I
do.”
“Does
that make you better than me?” He asks.
“Not
better, just different.” I counter without looking up. Part of me
is hoping that the conversation is over, another much smaller part of
me is alert and enjoying the exchange of ideas. I wait for Nosy Man
to say something else. I decide that if this stranger had been
dangerous the waitress or the kid would have given off some physical
cues or he would have stabbed me by now. Plucking up some courage, I
ask. “Would you like to sit down?” I look up to find the
waitress smiling at me.
She
refills my coffee cup as she answers. “That’s real sweet of you
but I get done here in about five minutes and Timmy has been waiting
for me for the last two hours. I’m not sure that he can take much
more of this.
“Timmy?”
“Timmy. My son.” She gestures to the boy sitting at the counter
with a nod of her head.
“Where’d he go?” I ask.
“Where’d who go?” The waitress repeats loud enough for the
firefighters down the block to hear.
I compensate for this by lowering my voice further, hoping the cue
that this is a private conversation will be picked up. “The man
that you were talking to? You and your son?”
“Oh him. He is the nicest man. Kind of handsome too. Why? You
interested?” She asks.
I shake my head. This is not going well. “I just want to know if
you know where he went.”
“He left...about ten minutes ago.”
“Thank you.” I answer meekly. I don’t move. My hand starts to
shake, I leave it in my lap. I don’t want the waitress to see it.
“Are you okay?” She asks. “You’re getting a little pale.”
“No. I’m okay.” I offer up a less than convincing smile.
“You didn’t eat the ham did you? They always keep the ham longer
than they should.”
I shake my head. “There was a death in the family." The story doesn't fit the situation at all but it's the best I can do at the moment. "I must have
gotten out and around people a bit too soon.”
“That happens.” She says, patting my arm. “We all want to get
past the hard stuff as soon as possible. Too soon sometimes. You take
yourself home and lay down. I’ll sure you’ll feel better in no
time.
I wait until the waitress leaves to pay my check with shaking hands.
It’s difficult to stay calm. I practically run out of the diner.
The waitress was kind and had good intentions but talking to men that
aren’t there is not likely to be fixed with an afternoon nap.
I stand on the sidewalk as people walk past me. They're on their way to movies, festivals, dog parks...or whatever else. Most are smiling. I wonder what it's like to be them. To have a quieter mind.
To not see all the possibilities to the point that it's overwhelming.
To be focused on the present moment.
To not need daydreams about handsome Spaniards.
I envy them.