#2 March 06, 2007 (part 2)
Tuesday. Went to lunch late. The cashier asked, “By yourself today?” Yes, “I only have a lunch date on Fridays,” I say. They know. They’ve seen me and Karen together often enough. Ate my turkey & green chile sandwich while reading the news. On the opinion page are two letters on marriage; one is titled, “Successful relationships transcend right to marry,” and the other is , “Right to marriage shouldn’t be determined by the state.” Both are responses to an earlier column about gay marriage, but have different takes on the importance of marriage itself. Both agree that marriage laws should not prohibit any two people from marrying legally, although one author says marriage is not for him. That used to be my point of view too, but I’m in my second marriage, third if you count the not-legal hand-fasting ceremony in ’76 performed by druids. That was for love, but she bailed out early, in love with someone new. Love is not always enough. As I’m leaving the cafeteria I notice how warm and sunny the day has become. My thoughts drift to Karen. We could eat lunch outside next time. As I make my way back to work I see her, reading, back against a rock in the warm sun. I want to sit with her. Knowing she doesn’t like to be disturbed on a non-Friday, I nevertheless come up behind her and crouch hesitantly on the rock. “Hi. What are you up to?” I ask, and it is so nice to see her, oddly dressed goth-like all in black in the hot sun. “Oh, just reading my book,” she answers, thrusting it up a bit for emphasis, and fixing her eyes back on it. She clearly wants to read, not talk. “Ah, that one,” I say, knowing she had been reading it last week, had it with her when we had lunch. Good stories by Ursula K. LeGuinn, one of the authors we both enjoy. “When do you have to get back?” I ask. “Oh, real soon, ten minutes. She coughs a little into a handkerchief. “Are you better?” I ask, as she had been fighting a cold on Friday. “Yes, she says, but she clearly wants to get back to her book. “You look very warm all in black in the sun”, I say, unable to tear myself away just yet, and loving the look of her. She throws a distracted, “Yes,” at me, so I know I have to go. “I’ll let you get back to your reading,” I say, and she nods.
Well, it’s always nice to see her, especially the same day I started a blog about her.
I love to torture myself. Karen is such exquisite torture.