James asked me last night, haltingly, carefully, if I really, honestly, "100 percent," wanted to be over Julie. The question mark wasn't off his lips before I answered, emphatically, "No!" So, there, I said it, I have a witness--there's no honest equivocation to rationalize it, to convince my mind to convince my heart. But--if I'm to keep this (whatever "this" is) going I have got to have fun with it. I've emailed Matt hopeful of him still having the Julie picture I emailed him. His would be the only extant copy, since I so diligently destroyed the prints, erased it off the CD, deleted Gay Lynn's email of it, and emptied the bin. I intend to replace it on my bike fender, but this time cover it with a flap that I can velcro closed. It's a taunt, to be sure, but one Julie would never see; if she didn't see it the first time before someone told her, she wouldn't so much as glance at it this time around, having reason already to believe that "danger" over. Having it there before made me feel good, and I got a chuckle rubbing the dirt from her face. It was not a shrine to a goddess. On the cover I'll put something like "Guess Who?" If anyone lifts it they can see underneath, of course, but they'd also be invading my privacy. Where I take the fun from there, I don't know, but I have to have some laughs about it if I'm to minimize the pain; and with the right perspective I can do that.
There was nothing funny yesterday when, after a week away, I walk into the workroom and come face to face with Julie at the bottleneck beside my desk where everyone stops to check the posted schedule. It was a standoff, the briefest yet most steadfast standoff, and I backed away. Our eyes met, and at that moment she struck me as old, at least several years older than I. She seemed to have wrinkles where a week ago there'd been none. She looked tired, if not haggard. I muttered, "Good morning," without a smile and backpedalled into my desk space to let her pass, which she did with neither smile nor word. I was chilled. I did not see her face again, though I was constantly looking for her and would be disappointed if she wasn't there. Still, if she was, I did not look beyond recognition, taking no chances on eye contact. But what had I seen that first time?
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
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2 comments:
I'm wondering what your feelings about her being older are, specifically? About you being older? This is not the first time you've mentioned similar perceptions of her being older...Themes of aging are a big part of my own experience with Jessica, obviously
Those are good questions. Julie is not quite two years younger than I am, but she always looked younger to me until that day. She thinks of herself as old, if saying "I'm too old for that" about things like staying up late is any indication, but it wasn't till that day that she seemed her age to me. If felt a little sad for her, because she must have been very tired, but despite my initial reaction I still found her attractive--maybe moreso.
It wasn't until I fell for Julie that I became aware of the beauty of women my age. For a long time--and every once in a while still--I felt I was too old for this, but I might as well be dead as too old for love. I hope I've understood your questions.
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