Musing in Manhattan

“I didn’t steel the car, I only borrowed it,” he said. “I had to…”  he was waiting for me to ask why, but I didn’t.  I only listened and watched him for signs of a potential break down. 

“I had to borrow it, how else was I going to get over to the Democratic National Convention?”  He continued and separated the sides of the button down shirt he had on to show me the same _____________ designer shirt covered in sweat that he had shown me about two minutes ago.  Apparently I was supposed to comment on how well dressed he was for the grand theft auto scenario and the showdown with the presidential candidate. 

“Because I wouldn’t steal it-that would be the antithesis of me.”  I envisioned in my head the scene where his mom calls the cops on him and accuses him of stealing it.  I imagined him living at home with her and how he must drive her insane.  I felt bad for her, and I didn’t even know why.

I looked at him not knowing what to say.  Should I say something?  If I say something he will think I want to talk politics, or fashion, but if I don’t, he might snap and think I was just another woman who had shunned him.  You know how you hear all of these crazy stories of people just snapping and hurting other people for no reason at all?  That scenario was running through my head.  I decided I would be cordial, but not friendly.  I replied in a light joking manner:  “Well, at least you had your nice shirt on just in case you met  Mr. Obama. ”  Do you know how you say something and hope that it is received the right way?  How you feel like your throat is closing and you take that big gulp and say:  Oh my God please don’t let that have come out the wrong way.  What a stupid reply.  I knew that he wanted me to make a comment about that damn shirt though–so there it was.  Now where is my bus?????   Please don’t kill me mister!

Totally oblivious to my comment he went on with his one sided conversation:  “Well, I had to go.  Who else is going to go and speak on behalf of women?  “Who is going to fight for women’s rights–if not me?”  (Oh Lord–he wants to be a hero.)  He continued:  “…..And as I stood there listening to the speeches, and looking out into the crowd I thought of the young women of centuries ago who couldn’t vote and got down on their hands and knees in their cinched tight dresses and scrubbed the porcelain tile floors with a tooth brush beneath a picture of Pompeii.  I gave him a small smile.  I had a feeling that the picture of Pompeii was symbolic of something but again the reference was lost to me.  I will have to google that one.  But gee crazy  man thanks for giving me enough credit to think that I would get the reference.  Apparently he thought I was a women’s libber, and a highly educated woman simply by noting the black and white polka-dotted silk shirt and high heeled mary janes that I had on.  

I must have looked at him strangely… or maybe it was the fact that I looked over to his dog, because he dropped the convention talk and looked me straight in the eyes and tried to reassure me that he meant me no harm.

“I would never hurt you.  That is the antithesis of me.  Your sweet.  I won’t hurt you….”

“I know-” I said (but I wasn’t so sure) “I’m okay.”

“No, really, I wouldn’t hurt you.  That’s not me. Don’t be afraid, that would be the antithesis of me.”

Okay way too weird now.  He kept repeating it and I grew more and more uncomfortable.  I didn’t even know if anyone else was listening or watching the conversation between us because I hadn’t taken my attention off of him. But they had to have been listening–people are nosey and he was too loud to ignore.    I was too freaked out by him to not watch his every movement.    Uncomfortable, I shifted myself away from him a bit and he in turn moved a bit infront of me to look me in the eyes as he tried to reassure me that he wasn’t going to hurt me.  As he tried to continue talking to me, I tried to look passed him for  the number on the bus that was just pulling up to the curb. ….

A bus!  Thank you JESUS–a bus!  I don’t care what bus it is–I am getting on it and I will worry about where it’s going later!

 ”Oh that’s my bus” I said excitedly and with anxiety because he had stopped, opened the doors, and then closed them really quickly as no body made a move to get on. The bus was getting ready to pull away already! 

 ”I gotta go!” I said abruptly as I left him standing there. 

As I dashed passed him he kept saying: “I would never hurt you.  That’s not me!  I would never hurt you…..”

The bus doors closed behind me and I took a seat in the back.  As I looked out I could see him just staring at me through the window.  He looked disappointed.  He looked upset that he scared me and sad that I had left.  I sat there thinking:  Was I making too much of it all–or was my gut feeling right?   How do you know?  How could I know?   I thought about it all the way home.  Now I will be watching for him out of the corner of my eye every night.  The city is beginning to lose its charm for me.  =(

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