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          A            "Creature of the City"          aNAda #25   A
        A                                                            A
     A                      by TanAdept                03/09/00         A
 A                                                                          A
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        The day I met her, it was the early afternoon, but the clouds and
 rain made it seem like the sun had already set.  There was a scaffold up,
 and she was standing under it, out of the rain.  She was looking across the
 street, as if waiting for something to happen.  People passed in front of
 her on the sidewalk, hurrying to get out of the rain.

        I noted a gap in the traffic and headed across the street, jumping
 puddles on either side of the road.  A few more steps brought me under the
 scaffold, and I took the opportunity to pull my hair out of my eyes.

        She was right there; I wasn't in a hurry.  What was she looking at?
 I decided to stop.  She didn't seem to be watching the people passing on the
 side of the street I had just crossed from, but rather looking at something
 higher.  I wondered what she was thinking about, and then took a minute or
 two to clear my mind.  I stared across the street and watched people with
 umbrellas navigating down the wet sidewalk.

        I was a bit lost for the words to begin a conversation with my
 neighbor, but then let words flow without thinking them over too much.  "I'm
 looking around for a gift for my sister, would you like to come and look
 with me?"  Not exactly a typical pickup line, but it was what lept to mind,
 and it was honest--a second opinion would be helpful.

        To my surprise, she nodded, though without seeming particularly
 interested.  We went halfway down the block and she pointed to the right at
 some sort of antique shop.  It didn't seem like quite the right place to buy
 something for my sister, but I wasn't about to argue and run the risk of an
 all-too-quick alienation.

        When we entered, I followed her lead for a bit, and then broke off.
 There were a number of items I thought "kind of cool", but nothing I would
 actually buy for myself, much less as a gift.  She handled a few items,
 lifting them, looking at them from all angles, and then putting them down.
 I thought she looked even more sad from looking at these antiques, but
 figured it was just a trick of the light.

        We continued down the street, and I started talking.  I realized I
 hadn't introduced myself, and took care of that.  I told some of my classic
 personal stories, those which usually get a chuckle out of my audience.  I
 told her a little about my interests.  We were rained upon.

        Occasionally, she laughed, but mostly she was serious.  Not that she
 said much, but her eyes said more than what I'd managed to say in our time
 together.

        After a couple of hours, and a few more stores, I thought to "make a
 move".  I invited her to my place.  I didn't really expect her to say yes,
 and she didn't.  Somehow, though, I managed to get through my question
 without stumbling.  She shook her head and I asked if she'd come back
 tomorrow.

        That evening, I didn't have any plans, so I went and cleaned up my
 apartment, top to bottom.  I rationalized things with myself that my place
 really wasn't ready for guests anyhow, and that I should have everything
 tidy before I brought over a new friend.

        Sunday, it was raining again.  I took a drive, found a place to park
 a half mile away, and walked to the same overhang where we had stood the day
 before.  I arrived wet.  She was already there.

        I stood by her and we looked across the street.  Today, there were
 two men working on putting up a new sign on the building directly on the
 other side.  And older neon sign was on the ground, and a new moving letter
 sign was going up.  They struggled with getting the sign in place while I
 strugged for words.  I decided against speaking and alternately watched the
 workmen and her.  I couldn't tell if she was sad, interested, zoning out, or
 all three, but, then, I didn't want to stare.

        I at least gave her my number.  While I didn't expect her to call,
 she did accept the scrap of paper with my name and number I handed her.

        We went on in much the same way the next week.  I would always try to
 invite her home with me, out of the rain.  She continued to decline, but I
 knew that some day she would come along.  I knew she couldn't, but I knew
 she would.

        The third Saturday, it wasn't raining.  I looked around my apartment,
 and scrounged up enough for a picnic.  I filled up a box -- it wasn't a
 picnic basket, but it would do.  I went out, found her, as always, under the
 scaffold, and told her that we should go on a picnic.  She told me that we
 couldn't, that she couldn't.  I insisted.  There was a park close enough,
 and it was a sunny day.  How could we pass up the opportunity?

        She frowned, and followed.  At the park, I laid out the oversized
 towel, and began pulling things out.  I looked over, and saw that she looked
 extraordinarily pale in the sun.

        She looked back at me, not quite meeting my eyes.  For the first
 time, I actually heard her voice as she spoke.  "You know I can't live out
 here," she said.  I nodded sadly as she faded away to transparency before my
 eyes.

        I ate my cheese and crackers, drank half a bottle of juice, put
 everything back in the box and headed home.

        One weekend, on a rainy day, I met a woman who wasn't there.  To me,
 she was as real as the cement beneath my feet.  She was as real as the
 clouds in the sky above, and she was as real as the glow from the neon
 lights across the street.  But she was a creature of the city.

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 {  (c)2000 aNAda e'zine *                        * aNAda025 * by TanAdept  }
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