The other day, as I was leaving our building to take my morning walk, I held open the door for a woman who was behind me. “Thank you, sir,” she said, “I shouldn’t have said the police stopped me.” When I looked puzzled, she said that she was supposed to pick up her friend, who lives in the building, but that she was late and that to explain her tardiness, she had told her friend that she had been stopped by the police. She asked me the time. When I told her it was 10:30, she said that she was supposed to pick up her friend at 9:30. “I can’t even make up a decent excuse,” she said. “In fact, I haven’t any excuse at all.”
The woman was past her first youth, but she had beautiful blue eyes. “I’m very, very, very, very, very late,” she said. “I hope she will forgive me.” “Nobody’s perfect,” I said. “If she’s a good friend, she’ll forgive you.”
Why was that woman talking to me at all? She seemed slightly deranged. Was she flirting with me? If so, flirting with a guy a few months short of 80 would be proof of derangement. I would have been tempted to prolong the conversation – those eyes were beautiful – but it didn’t seem right somehow. “Good luck,” I said, as I turned to leave. She walked over to her parked car, the door on the driver’s side still open, and said, “Friends are so important.” She may have been slightly nuts, but she was right about that.
She is probably one of those nervous people who babble when anxious. She was feeling guilty about being late, and you were there. You were very good to her, and I'm sure you made her feel a little easier, if only for a few minutes. It was good of you.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Aravis.
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