Sticks and Bones

The first part of a chronicle of a crush-turned-obsession. I'm sorry, Julie.


To experience this in natural reading order go to A Bright, Ironic Hell: The Straight Read .


Also, try Satellite Dance and Crystal Delusions--Parts 2 and 3, respectively--complete.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Thank God There Were No Seagulls Screaming (7/10/08 Thursday)

At lunch yesterday in the breakroom Julie said, "How do you like it so far?" I had the book open in front of me. Julie was at the next table. I didn't at first realize she was addressing me. Though I'd rehearsed my reply to the expected query, I was caught off guard by the impersonal address. I told her I like it very much but hadn't yet settled into the book's rythms. I asked her if she had trouble pronouncing the Welsh, because "I like to be able to pronounce what I'm reading." She replied that she "picked it up" in her reading.

I've figured out what I want, how I want this to go down: I want Julie to get a crush on me. I want her to do as I did and suddenly realize how much she really likes me; that I'm attractive and nice and have a lot in common with her. Maybe, in the midst of this revelation, she'll realize how solicitous of her I've been and be flattered by it and, perhaps realize also that I've had a crush on her all this time.

But what if she did develop a crush on me? How would I know, or even suspect? What if she does right now and is performing her own agonizing dance of cloaking subterfuge? You know what? In my life, that's how things happen.

I had a Julie moment today that had me as close as ever to confirming her crush. On the desk, two minutes before the hour and the changing of guard, I'm helping a patron. Aware of the time, I glance over my shoulder when the workroom door opens, and I recognize Julie's figure in the periphery. I know she's out here next. But instead of hearing a polite offer to take over, I see a DVD slowly slide onto the counter beside me and the hand retreat. I don't interrupt my work with the patron, but the work doesn't require all my attention. I peek at the DVD. The Mighty, which, of course, has in it Gillian Anderson. I chuckle to myself and finish with the patron, then start to the back, DVD in hand. Through the window in the door I see Julie approaching and time my entrance to meet her in the doorway. There I stop her with the upraised DVD and a question. In the doorway we are forced to within inches of each other. I ask, "Did you do this for me?" She turns her face up to mine and replies, "Yes, I did. I knew it had Gillian Anderson in it and thought you might not have seen it." "I haven't. Thank you." She passed through. In that moment that I asked that question I held my gaze on her left eye, dark blue with a tiny black dot on it, and was glad the Fool had the Wise Man's wits about him--that is, around his arms and legs and stuffed in his mouth--because I just might have kissed her. I settled for not being able to eat but about half my lunch. Yesterday, too, I was unable to finish my lunch. That had been right after Julie had asked me about the book.

Stacey told me after work that when Julie was hired just over a year ago Gay-Lynn was bubbling over with the hope that Julie and I would pair up. She also said that Chris today, with no prompting, said, "Maybe we should try to get Dion and Julie together."

I don't know when Julie became attractive to me, but if I were ever to actually pinpoint the date I might be shocked. Every day I recall a new instance from a more distant past that indicates a growing affection toward her. I remember the moment now when I first saw her: I was at the front desk when Julie came in and told me she was here for her interview with Tammy. Perhaps I was sizing her up relative to the job and not her general attractiveness when I found her lacking. Perhaps she saw that as I handed her the clipboard with the interview questions attached and urged her to have a seat, because I've never forgotten the look in return. I've also never been able to interpret it--intense, cautious, dubious, incredulous, maybe none of that--but it certainly wasn't love at first sight for either of us. Or was it? Nah.

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