072804If there's one thing I hate, it's single older women. They're usually overweight. They don't dress well. All in all, it's like they've stopped trying. They know they're past their prime and they might as well accept the fact that they'll be alone forever, all by their lonesome...with cats. A single older woman (SOW, coincidentally) was seated across from me on the bus today. She was blabbing away to a woman that looked old enough to be my grandmother, talking about wretched knees and the democratic national convention. A few minutes into my bus trip, we passed through the U's campus. Just then, a college-age woman darted in front of the bus. The driver slammed on the bus and cursed at her through the closed doors. I stared at the SOW from behind my sunglasses. She rolled her eyes and made a tisk, tisk sound with her mouth. The SOW turned to the older woman and began to compare college students to chickens. "It's similar to when chickens would cross the road in my hometown. You can't do anything but stop in your car and honk because they stand there like idiots, not moving. Kids these days. They think a college degree makes them special enough to jump in front of a bus." They? It took everything in my body to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to rip off my sunglasses and give this SOW a long, hard, cold stare. I wanted to flash her the Star Tribune badge I had attached to my pants. I wanted to ask her how much she makes in a year, then promptly inform her that, judging by her current fashion choice, I'd be earning more than her in less than 365 days. I thought to myself, I wonder why they don't lose some weight. It's a burden on my mental well being to see them walking around town, strutting their stuff like they're something special. In reality, they'll never be something special to anyone other than their immediate family...and those folks might not even like them. The war of me against the SOWs had begun. 071604The four-inch heels allowed me to get a good view over the top of my cubicle walls. I scanned the hallway, looking for any sign of her. Turing back towards Tyler, I noticed water dripping off my desk and onto the floor. �Umm, we have a problem here,� I said to him as I lifted the box and surveyed the damage. Walking as briskly as I could, I grabbed some paper towels from the mail room and came back to sop up the puddle. I popped up to go back for more towels when I saw her. My eyes widened and I froze. She returned the bewildered stare as I watched her eyes move past me and land on Tyler. �Hi?� she said with a confused tone in her voice. �Hey, hi,� he stammered in return. �Don�t you want to go to the bathroom or something?� She looked back at me and told me she was on her way to the lunchroom to grab something before we met. As she approached my cube, Tyler jumped in front of the desk, blocking her view. �You should go to the bathroom�now,� he demanded. With that, and eyes pleading to know what was going on, she turned and was on her way. �So much for our plan,� Tyler said, obvious disappointment in his voice. I returned to the still leaking water in front of me while I contemplated any way to salvage the moment. Once the water problem was solved, so was our dilemma. With Tyler hiding in the mail room, I put everything away and went back to work. She returned minutes later, greeting me in her classic, �Hi, how are you?� tone. Sitting on my extra chair, we began to chat like nothing had happened. I mentioned that Tyler left, with only enough time to leave a check for me. With that, I opened a drawer and surprised her with a cuddly, soft stuffed llama. Her instant smile and gentle caresses of the toy showed me she loved the gift. �I�m writing a story on llamas,� she confided. �I�ve gone to some llama farms. They come up to me and try to eat my pants.� I mentioned another item he left and with that, reached under my desk and pulled out a vase full of multi-colored roses. I tried to keep a normal conversation going, but it became increasingly hard as I watched Tyler creep from the mail room and stand inches behind her, lowering his head to a level just above her hair. I thought she�d pick up on my subtle eye movements upwards, but she kept talking about llamas and I nodded along, wondering how long before he broke his silence. With that thought, Tyler responded to her question. She jumped in the chair, her head coming in contact with the wall behind her. He bent down and kissed her forehead, lingering long enough to smile at her. I looked at the two of them talking and laughing. Instantly, they were in their own world. I felt reverberations of their connection and I, too, let out a grin. Immediately, I thought back to the day we went shopping with Tyler. We sat in his tiny car as he ran inside a friend�s house. Since he was gone, I asked her if she liked him. Her response of �I don�t know� completely contrasted the look in the eyes; the same look I saw now as she alternated between glancing at him, the llama and the roses. Jenna had fallen. ---
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