Benches, 1986
a diversion by Annabel Gill
The day had become drizzly, and though She appreciated the romantic weather, it occurred to Her that it could be more easily appreciated from under the translucent train stop shelter. She pulled at the hem of Her tight, light green shirt and held it there for a moment. She saw to Her dismay that somebody was already sitting on the bench, though happily they were positioned at the very end. She would not have to sit very near them. As She came closer, She saw the person, a young man, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a cigarette between his fingers. She passed him and sat on the other end of the bench. Glancing at him from the corner of Her eye, the first thing that struck Her was that his expression looked terribly morose. He was pale and had clean dark hair and a thin moustache, both with premature touches of grey in them. In front, his hair was falling a bit onto his forehead. His eyes were wide and pale blue. He was wearing an open grey sweatshirt with blue stripes running up the arms, straight-legged green slacks and a pair of tightly-laced, flat running sneakers. He looked to be in his mid-twenties.
She looked away across the sunken tracks. She held out one hand and let the light rain fall on it, then pulled it back inside and ran it over Her hair. From the edge of Her vision she saw Her benchmate stub the cigarette out on the wet ground and move to get another. She glanced over at him. He tore a last match out of a book and lit it, the cigarette in his teeth. She noticed with curiosity as he brought the match up to the end of the cigarette that his hands were shaking. The wind brushed by, and his match went out."Shit," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he threw it on the ground. She put Her hand into Her bag.
"You need a light?" She pulled out a lighter. He looked over at Her with surprise, his eyebrows raised. "Thanks," he said after a moment’s hesitation. They leaned towards each other and She lit his cigarette. She watched his shaking hands as he took a drag. She looked down at her watch."This is the 3:20 T, isn’t it?"
He looked over at her. "I certainly hope so," he replied with a slight chuckle. "What time is it now?""3:30."
"Oh, great. Well, it’ll get here, unless they’ve hit someone." He said this looking across the track, and beyond his wry tone made no other indication that he was joking. She watched his expression turn privately dismayed as he looked down at his hands and grasped one with the other in a futile attempt to quiet them.After a moment She ventured another attempt at conversation. "I’m supposed to be at a job interview..." She commented. "This is a very inconvenient day for the T to be late." She glanced at her watch again and sighed. "I guess I can probably forget about it at this point."
He looked at her. "Where was the job?""The Globe. I’m an aspiring journalist." She said the last two words with a touch of humorous irony. He smiled. She thought it was a very kind smile.
"I was a writer," he said. "But ‘aspiring novelist’ isn’t good enough to support a daughter, and journalism..." He paused as if trying to find the proper phrase. "...didn’t pan out.""You have a daughter? How old is she?"
"Four." He smiled a bit to himself at the thought of his daughter. "Almost five, really. Catherine. Cathy. She’s great. The coolest thing that ever happened to me.""What does your wife do?"
"I’m divorced," he answered. "She took off. She couldn’t handle..." He stopped and shrugged. "Life’s tough, you know?""Oh, I’m sorry..." She felt embarrassed for prying.
He looked up at Her and smiled slightly. "You’ve no reason to apologise, I don’t even know you. You didn’t do it, you just asked."Suddenly they heard the sound of the train approaching.
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She was in an aisle at CVS, reading a story in People about Gary Oldman, a pale little Brit playing Sid Vicious in an upcoming movie, when She suddenly saw the fellow from the T station, walking to the door with a small paper bag in his hand. Her heart jumped. She quickly ducked behind the magazines and trashy novels and watched him walk out of the store. She stepped back out, almost knocking over a cylindrical wire candy display as a result of Her eyes being glued to him as he disappeared down the sidewalk. She put the magazine back on the rack and rushed out, but he was nowhere to be seen by the time She got outside. She cursed and went back into the store. An hour later She was situated back at her dusty post behind the desk of the antique store across the street. Her feet were up on a Sealie milk crate. She had read that People in the store for so long that She’d left finger indents on the edges of the pages, so She’d bought it out of sheer guilt. Now She was flipping through it in an attempt to find some sycophantish celebrity titbit She hadn’t covered before buying it. Presently the bell at the door jangled, and She looked up, for one moment fully expecting it to be the shaky-handed fellow from the T station. Unfortunately for Her, Her life wasn’t a cute romantic comedy, as She’d often wished, and it was only a couple of little girls in puffed-out t-shirts and shorts. They immediately went over to the figurine case on the far wall. She sighed quietly and went back to Her magazine.________________
She ate Her lunch the next day at the traffic island-cum-teenage pit stop in between CVS and the antique store, laying on Her stomach across a bench next to a pay phone. She was spilling crumbs onto Her well-worn copy of The Death of Ivan Illych, and She would pause intermittently to shake them out of the binding. To clarify, the thin book was not well-worn because She’d read it before, which She hadn’t, but because She’d bought it used. There was no reason for this other than that She felt used books had more "character". That seemed to be Her attitude towards most used things, from clothes to furniture to animals. This happened to be a very convenient attitude to have, as it saved Her money She didn’t have. After finishing Her sandwich and beginning to feel that the sun on Her back was becoming painful, She sat up and proceeded to brush off her lap. She happened to glance up and notice with vague disinterest someone pushing a stroller with a small girl in it out of Brigham’s down the street. With a start She suddenly realised that the man with the girl was Her T Station man. She hopped up and ran to the edge of the traffic island. As She waited for a space in the cars, She watched as the top of the girl’s chocolate ice cream cone suddenly fell to the pavement. The man averted the crisis this caused before it could gather any steam by handing her his own ice cream, a purple-coloured abomination, and taking her bare cone. Presently She saw the space She was waiting for and jogged across the street. She followed at a good distance as they walked to the small park next to the police station. She slipped into a phone booth and watched them sit at a small granite table with two small granite chairs. The man released the girl from her stroller and she hopped onto the chair across from him, and then dug messily into her ice cream. The man rolled the empty cone around on the table and watched his daughter affectionately. She studied the man’s face from Her phone booth hideout. He was very pale, and looked a bit haggard ‘round the eyes, even though he couldn’t have been more than twenty-four or -five. He had full, pale lips and a generally angular face. She watched them until She suddenly realised that Her lunch break was over, and She ran back across the street.________________
She lay on the rough plaid couch in Her apartment in the dark. She stared at the streetlights outside Her window. On the sidewalk below a frumpy-looking old man in a brown sweater was walking his dog, past the graffiti splashed cement back of the building opposite Her apartment. Suddenly the phone rang. She rolled over and reached for the receiver, a green plastic thing with a dial. She fumbled for a moment and then held the receiver up to Her ear."Hello?"
"Hi," said a woman’s voice. "‘S me."She turned back to the window. "Oh, hi Viv. What’s going on?"
‘Viv’ sighed. "Nothing. Can I come over?""Sure."
"’kay, bye." She hung up the phone. Twenty minutes later her door opened, and a young woman with long, dark curly hair and brown eyes slipped in. She was wearing a tight, dark blue, long sleeved shirt with running stripes and blue jeans. "Hey.""Hey Vivian." Vivian sat down on the chair across from the couch.
"What do you find physically appealing in a man?" she asked.She sat up. "What? Did you come over here just to ask me that?"
Vivian shook her head. "No, I’m just curious. Tell me."She lay back down. "Um...I like skinny men with narrow shoulders. Pale. Dark hair. What about you?"
"Oh, you know....teeth...""They have to have nice teeth?"
"No, they have to have teeth...two functional eyes...a nose...a tongue...hair is optional."She laughed. "You’re bizarre."
"I’m bizarre? You’re attracted to sickly matchsticks!"She broke out laughing again, this time rolling off the couch in so doing. "Ow," She whined, still laughing. "You made me break my head on the phone."
"That’s what you get."She rolled onto her back and looked up at Vivian. "Food?"
"Nah, I’m fine. Wait, I’m gonna have some tea. Want?""Sure."
Vivian got up and went into the kitchen, which would be the same room as the living room were it not divided by a tall counter. "I’m turning on a light." Vivian flipped on the dim stove light and brought the kettle to the sink."My eyes," She complained, rolling away so that Her face was buried in the couch.
"Whatever happened with that job interview?" She heard Vivian ask."I didn’t go."
"What?""I didn’t go. I took the train all the way in to Boston, walked up to the building, and then turned around and went to the Salvation Army. I got a neat coat."
"What’d you do that for?""Buy a neat coat?"
"Skip the job interview!""I changed my mind. I don’t want to do journalism. It reminds me too much of a friend I had in high school. It’s too trite."
"As opposed to working in an antique store.""Hey - working in an antique store is perfectly respectable. It makes a statement. It says ‘I am not allergic to dust.’"
Vivian snorted. "I’d forgotten. What colour is the coat?""Crimson, with some black feathery business on the cuffs and the collar. Knee-length. It’s sexy."
"Coats cannot be sexy. It’s a rule.""You lie! This coat is sexy."
"No coat is sexy." Vivian leaned down and handed Her a cup of tea.She sat up. "Just rip my heart out, why don’t you?"
Vivian sat down. "I think I will. You just need to trust me on this. It’s the sacred truth."She took a sip of Her tea, splashing a goodly amount onto the front of Her shirt. "Ohh, Christ, look at that." She put down the cup and lay back down on the floor. She started waving Her hands over the spillage. "This is not hot," She remarked with mock annoyance.
"I foresaw your ineptitude. Actually, I got impatient and didn’t let the water boil all the way.""Thanks man, you saved my skin."
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She didn’t see him for another three days, when She was nearly startled to death by the sight of him walking with his daughter past the antique shop window. It was another drizzly day, and there had been all of one customer in the past five hours. Giving in to boredom, She’d put on an appropriately rainy cassette and danced around the small store as She dusted off the merchandise. She saw him as She was reaching up to a high shelf, Her hips swaying back and forth to the music. She started and almost tipped the chair She was standing on to the floor. After standing there for a moment and catching Her breath, She jumped clumsily down and rushed out the door. She caught sight of him turning into the cinema. She peeked ‘round the corner and watched what movie he was buying tickets for. It was a Disney movie, Lady and the Tramp, and his daughter was chattering excitedly about the commercials she’d seen for it on TV. She waited until they’d gotten concessions and gone into the theatre, and then She went up and bought a ticket for the same movie. She suddenly laughed at Herself for going to see Lady and the Tramp by Herself. The bored-looking girl behind the ticket counter looked at her curiously. Still smiling, She went into the theatre. The movie was just starting, and after looking around for a moment She caught sight of the man and the girl just sitting down. She found a seat diagonally behind them and sat down. She watched him put on a pair of round rimmed spectacles. His daughter, wiggling around in her seat, whispered something in his ear, putting a confidential hand up to her mouth. Leaning down to hear her, he nodded and then whispered something back. Biting Her lip and smiling, She stifled a giggle. She sat through the entire movie, slipping out right as the credits started and before the lights when up. She waited in the lobby, far enough back from the door so that they would turn away from Her as they went out of the cinema. After a couple of minutes they came out. The girl was skipping along, holding her father’s hand. "Dad, I really liked those cats," She heard her say. "’We are Sia-mee-ese, if you plee-ase...’"She smiled and followed them out of the theatre at a few paces away.
Outside it was still raining. The man picked up his daughter and pulled her yellow raincoat hood over her head, then turned away and coughed into his fist. She stopped following them at the antique store, but She stood by the door and noted the direction they were going in - towards the bridge which ran over the Mass Pike, in the same direction as Her apartment. Soon they were around the corner and out of sight. She looked across the grey street at the people passing her, and then slipped back into the store. Flipping the CLOSED sign back onto its more friendly side, She went behind the counter and tacked Her ticket stub to the wall by the register.______________
It was early in the night, and She stood on the bridge, Her forearms resting on the metal railing. The black feathery substance on Her cuffs tickled the tops of Her hands. She watched the cars beneath them flow by in an interweaving stream of headlights. A radio tower blinked red in the distance. She glanced over at Vivian, who was facing the opposite direction with her elbows on the railing, one leg crossed over the other. Vivian looked at her. Shifting Her weight voluptuously, so that one hip was sticking out slightly, She mouthed the word ‘sexy’ to Vivian, who put her head back and laughed."I admit that it’s an attractive coat," she said, still smiling, "but I tell you, girl, you’re crossing the line."
She looked back out across the turnpike, smiling out of the corner of Her mouth in spite of Her attempt to look hurt. "Bite me.""Hey, don’t tempt me," Vivian answered.
She watched the lighted speck of a plane flying far out of Her reach, trying to estimate how far away it actually was. Failing utterly, She turned around with a sigh and leaned Her back against the round metal. A strand of Hair, having rebelliously freed itself from under the collar of Her coat, blew into Her face, and She brushed it away."I hate all this cement," She remarked to Vivian. "I’m afraid I’m going to fall on it and break my teeth."
"That would take effort. Don’t worry, I have a good dentist.""You don’t go to the dentist."
"What difference does that make?""I hate you."
"You love me.""I’ll learn to lie to you someday."
"Keep working on it, darling.""Why do you suppose I’m afraid of breaking my teeth? There must be some psychological reason."
"Freud would say it was because you are still upset about breaking off your penis, but I say it’s because you’re such a noodle that if you broke your teeth, you’d have no way to defend yourself from muggers and me and other perverts.""Oh. Thanks, I was afraid I was just being silly. I appreciate you validating my need for unbroken teeth."
"Sure." They were silent, each following their respective trains of thought on teeth and noodles and perverts and Freud and penises. It eventually led to Her having an overwhelming craving for lo mein, and when She retraced Her thought train steps, She made a disgusted face at Herself."I saw that," Vivian said. "What was that for?"
"I hate lo mein.""Heathen."
They were silent again. The cars wooshed by beneath them. Suddenly a grey car passed them on the bridge, and She stared after it with an inordinate amount of interest. Her T station man had been in the passenger seat, and She’d caught a glimpse of some woman driving."Bitch!" She suddenly exclaimed, and then took off in a freakishly uncharacteristic sprint, leaving Vivian standing in Her wake with a look of utter perplexity on her face.
"Hey!" Vivian finally managed, after She’d already rounded the corner, and she ran after Her.She’d lost sight of the car, and didn’t know if it had taken a right or gone straight, so She decided on straight. After a minute, however, logic regained its hold on Her and She realised that She was not going to catch up to the car. She slowed to a stop and dropped down onto the cracked sidewalk with an air of limp defeat. Feet out in front of Her, She sat there panting, until a moment later Vivian caught up to Her.
"What in the hell was that?" Vivian asked, leaning forward with her hands on her knees."Ah," She sighed in a high pitched voice. "Nothing. Pick me up, I popped my lungs."
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She had the weekend off. In the morning She climbed out of Her window onto the black metal fire escape and sat there with Her book in her lap, not reading it. She had a towel over Her shoulders to shield them from Her damp hair, which was drying in the sun. She ran Her hand through the squeaky strands and thought about going out to breakfast. The thought of Herself sitting alone in a restaurant gave Her a lonely little pang in her stomach, and She immediately decided to find something sweet in her ‘fridge and devour it. After a moment, however, She realised that She hadn’t anything of the sort, and that in fact her pantry was rather bare. Cursing, She pulled the towel off Her back, draped it over the fire escape railing, and started down the rickety metal stairs. She walked down to Brigham’s. By the time She got there Her hair was mostly dry. She sat in the elliptical booth in the corner of the claustrophobic restaurant, by the plate-glass window, and read while She ate. As She was getting up to leave, the T station man and the dark-haired woman driver suddenly rounded the partition and took a seat across the room from Her. She let out a strangled gasp and nearly fell backwards. She slid down the vinyl seat so that only the top of Her head and Her eyes could be seen above the table. Looking at the woman, who was, much to Her distress, very attractive, Her eyes narrowed and Her mouth turned into an angry little rosebud. She imagined the demon woman slipping on the tile floor and cracking her head open. This did not occur. The two of them ordered breakfast in peace, and there were no fatalities in the process. After a time, however, She began to notice, or at least imagine, a very striking physical resemblance between Her T station man and the demon woman. It also seemed that their tone was more business-like than romantic, though in the casual manner of close friends discussing some important matter. When She finally heard them mention something about "mom", She whispered, "Yes!" between Her teeth, a triumphant expression coming over Her face."Ma’am?" She started and looked up. A waitress was looking at Her curiously. "Yes?"
"Um...are you all set?" She giggled with fleeting embarrassment and sat up. "Um, yes, I’m ready to pay." After paying, She managed to slip out of the restaurant without being noticed by the T man and his lovely sister.
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She tiptoed past Vivian, asleep in Her armchair, to the kitchen to return a mug to the sink. Then She put on Her coat and softly went out the door. Outside, She put Her hands in Her pockets and started walking towards the elementary school. The cool breeze blew a crumpled hamburger wrapper across Her path. A mangy little dog ran towards her and yapped. There was a song running through Her head, and she started to skip along, swaying Her hips and moving Her arms as She walked. She passed an exceedingly tall, leather-clad punk with a rainbow coloured mowhawk, who looked at Her oddly as She passed him, dancing down the sidewalk, almost but not quite singing out loud. She came to the school, and was dancing towards the playground when she heard a scratching sound directly behind her. She stopped and turned around. The only thing in sight was a round red metal garbage can. She tiptoed cautiously up to it and peeked inside. She started back as She saw a young racoon staring back at her with its wide reflective eyes. It was scratching at the sides of the can, trying to escape."Oh no," She said sadly, putting Her hands up to Her mouth. She took a step back, and the scratching continued. It made a small cry from the can; She’d never heard a racoon make a sound before. She furrowed Her brow, and then went back up to the can. She crouched down, put a hand on either side, and tipped it over. It made a resounding clang, and the racoon took off across the street. A dog barked. She righted the can and ran quickly to the playground, away from the scene of the crime. She walked across the crunchy gravel, under the monkey bars and past the swings. The air was coolly damp from a late rain. At the field behind the elementary school, the dirt had turned to mud, and was only now hardening again. She walked along the grass of the baseball diamond, staring up at the sky and trying to make out the stars around the orange arc sodium streetlights. A plane buzzed overhead. The stool-pigeon dog let out one final bark and fell silent. She looked down at the ground, at Her dusty sneakers. She noticed something sticking out of the mud a few feet off to Her left, and She veered off course to investigate. She found it to be a small child’s shoe, almost entirely encased in mud. She knelt down and yanked it out, then dumped the dirt out of it. She turned it around in her hand. It was a tiny blue sneaker. The laces had once been white. Its owner was probably four or five years old. She tried to envision the circumstance leading this shoe to being abandoned; the child had clearly misstepped, their little foot sinking so far into the mud that it was irretrievable. She imagined the child’s piteous expression, and Her face melted almost as it had at the sight of the imprisoned racoon. Her heart contracted, and She suddenly felt as if She needed to find a good reason to cry. Instead She stood up, dropped the shoe into Her coat pocket, and danced away.
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She was outside of "TCBY" at Her lunch break with Vivian when the T Station man walked past with his daughter. She gasped and jumped behind Vivian, peeking around her shoulder after him. Vivian spun around and looked at Her; She was peeking around the corner after him."What are you looking at?" Vivian shook Her by the shoulders. "What is going on with you? You have been acting so strange. Tell me!"
She looked at Vivian for a moment, deliberating, and then said, "Come on." She ran after the T man, and Her friend followed in perplexity. He stopped in the park, at the table. She pulled Vivian into the phone booth.
"What??" Vivian said.
"Shh!" She peeked around the phone booth door. "Okay, this is the thing. It’s really dumb, I know, but don’t laugh. See that guy at the table?"
Vivian looked around the corner. "With the little girl?"
"Yeah."
"No, I don’t see him."
She hit Vivian’s arm. "Quiet."
"All right, what about him?" Vivian asked, pulling her head back into the booth. "Who is he?"
"He’s…he’s just this guy I talked to a couple of weeks ago waiting for a train."
"And?"
"And…and I’ve been following him."
"You what?!"
"I couldn’t help it! I see him all over the place…he must live right around here."
"You’re so weird!" Vivian looked out again. "What’s the matter with him? He looks sick or something."
"I know," She said, rolling her eyes and leaning against the back of the booth in delight. Vivian turned around and looked at her with a huge grin.
"I should have known! You’re crazy, you know that? You come across somebody you are hopelessly attracted to—"
"I didn’t say that!"
"Close enough. You come across somebody, but instead of doing anything constructive about it, you stalk him! I love you, you are such a freak!"
Vivian looked out again. "You know, he is pretty good looking, in a sort of…narrow, sickly way. What’s with the kid? He married or something?"
"Divorced."
"Great!" Suddenly Vivian stood up and started out of the booth.
"What are you doing?!" She grabbed the back of Vivian’s coat and pulled her back. Vivian smiled at Her.
"I’m going to do you a favour."
"What?! You will not!"
"Come on, girl. You can’t just watch him forever." She looked at Vivian, who continued, "You know you’re not going to find another one." After a moment She suddenly said, "You’re right," and stood up. Vivian smiled as she watched Her walk out of the phone booth and stride purposefully towards the table.
She got to the table and sat down across from the T man, who looked up in surprise. They looked at each other for a moment, he trying to puzzle out where he’d seen Her before, She gathering up the courage to speak.
"Hello," She finally said, continuing in a rush before he could respond, "You probably don’t remember me, but I talked to you at the T station a couple of weeks ago, and since I work across the street from here, I keep seeing you places, and I couldn’t help watching you, and you probably think that’s incredibly creepy, but I couldn’t help myself because I find you hopelessly attractive and you seemed so nice when I met you and I just couldn’t stop thinking about you and I knew I would never be able to stand it if I didn’t talk to you again, so there you go, I’ve done it, and I’m sorry to have bothered you, but it had to be done." She stopped and caught her breath. He looked at Her with a curious expression for a moment, and then slowly smiled.
"I thought you looked familiar. Well…" He laughed. "It’s nice to meet you again"
She stared at him. "It is??" She blurted out incredulously.
He smiled again. "Actually…yes. Quite nice."
"You don’t think I’m a total creep?"
"No. One thing, though—do I get to know your name?"
After a moment She finally smiled sheepishly. "Valerie."
"Hello again,Valerie. I’m Andy."
Valerie leaned back in her chair and looked at him. "Andy. Um…you and Cathy wanna grab some lunch?"
"We’d love to."
Valerie grinned and bit Her lip, and they got up. Andy retrieved his daughter and they walked out of the park. Valerie turned around as they passed and grinned at Vivian in the phone booth, who waved and smiled triumphantly. Valerie turned back around, and She and Her T station man went on to lunch.