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.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Tiptoeing Elephant (10/09/08 Thursday)

When I told Julie on that long-ago Saturday that I was done pussyfooting I was challenging myself, forcing a resolve that I hadn't fully acquired. And when I think of that I feel the resolve and know that it's the most important thing I can grasp, that from it comes all the strength and truth of my mission. Which is...? Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, jaw set, I stare out the window, don't see the answer. Part of me--I'm afraid to know which, the neurotic or the realist--doesn't believe there is an answer--at least one that doesn't expose the whole endeavor as a tilting at windmills. As it may very well be. Will I know it when I see it? Can I even possibly see it? But that is a long way off. I have a lot of work to do.

Sometimes it feels as if the work is the thing, a challenge for the sake of challenge. Not only am I willing to believe that, but I'm willing to embrace it as likely the best way to focus. But I could focus better if I could bring the challenge into sharper definition, break it into manageable chunks for incremental goal-setting. If I can see progress I will be encouraged. Doubt is the ultimate regressor, taking the sunlight from the path ahead for a spotlight on the road already traveled. For this journey I need only know the way ahead. Where is the light?


*****


Crack! Or, more accurately, Chip!

As with asking Julie out, knowing the time and place of my latest, next-important endeavor hardened my resolve. I started right off the bat with a small confidence, telling her that I had "Hallelujah" by Prefab Sprout running through my head, and had had for the better part of these two days. "Been listening to Prefab Sprout, have you?" "Well, I hadn't been, but I played it today because the snippet I had in my head yesterday wasn't long enough to give me the title." We each had a patron or two to deal with, then I brought some leasebooks out of the workroom to shelve. I didn't want to attack her straightaway and perhaps reveal a desperate agenda, but the ticking clock and the closing window preyed on my diligence. I finished the shelving in time for a sudden flurry of activity at the desk. The clock was ticking louder and the window creaking down the sash when a man with a straining plastic bag approached from Children's. Without parting teeth or moving lips, I quietly hissed, "Use the self-check, use the self-check." He didn't, and I despatched him as quickly as courtesy allowed. Julie worked on a registration. The rush might have lasted all of ten minutes, but it seemed as if no air were getting through that window by the time it ended. A trio of chatters lingered near the desk and my teeth tried to make dust of one another, when Julie said, "Poor Mike." He was trying to shelve the fiction DVD's, whose stock woefully dwarfs the allotted space for their display. I stood and moved toward the higher counter between us. "Poor anybody who has to shelve DVD's, " I said. "I've shifted them all twice this week." Ensuing was a short discussion about the problem, then a lull. I slid away from the partition. The trio was still there, but I knew this to be the time and beat back a nervous hesitation before sliding back toward her.

"For the record, Julie," I said, "and then I'll shut up..." I paused while she turned to me. Adrenaline surged. I never felt more confident. As I spoke the next words, the volume of my voice descended to less than a whisper. I couldn't hear the last word, only feel my lips form it and my breath push it through..."you still fascinate me."

Instantly, she turned away (but not before I caught the bloom on her cheeks), dropping her head, her hair falling over her face, and I heard the most delightful, most charming, most endearing murmur issue from the mask: "You've embarrassed me."

And from me, spontaneously, came the upraised hand and the turned-away head. "I just had to say that," I said, and sat down heart thudding, imaginary fist pumping.

Neither of us ventured a glance at the other for a moment till I noticed, peripherally, Julie throw her hair off her face. She then reached up to the counter and straightened bookmarks that didn't need straightening (because I'd just done it). Looked like victory to me. Soon, she left her seat for the magazine area, ostensibly to tidy them and pick up the strays, but possibly to pick up a few of her own pieces. She returned visibly recomposed. The rest of the hour was business as usual, even with a little chat, though of course not about That.

I have since, of course, analyzed the event and my actions therein, and found the usual cast of missed opportunities and regrets, but I have cast them adrift like whiny mutineers. I behaved in accord with my nature; to have done otherwise would have been a regret impossible to throw overboard. After all, I am not just trying to know Julie, but myself as well. I was myself in that moment, and that just might have been as great a triumph as the moment itself.

So, what now? I asked myself that on a Saturday almost two weeks ago, and I'm still waiting on that reply. I don't believe I have an advantage, per se. This is not a game or competition. What I have is an opportunity. What I have is a heightened understanding. What I have is a deeper appreciation and respect for Julie and higher value for our friendship.

What do I do with what I have? It may be too late at night to ponder that one efficiently, but I don't mind a sloppy go at it. If I want, as I've claimed, to get to know Julie first and foremost, then I have to give myself, come out of my self and my self-conscious cares, to find out who she is. Yes, I want her. Did I ever deny that? But though I also want to have fun, I have to stop treating this as a game. This is not for my amusement, or even for my gain. Purely and simply, I have to remove my self. (Well, purely, anyway.) If this is not for my gain, then I should not seek gain, but accept it as a consequence of compassion. That gain will be the understanding I seek. I feel that. I know that. I believe that. How do I do that?

No comments: