Liz said to observe. To find someone and watch. To notice all of the physical things. And then to imagine what they mean. To imagine what is inside. To imagine the life and history that are just under the surface.
And there he was sitting on the bench at the doorway of Kohl’s. Between four walls of glass. Like he sat in that glass enclosure just so I could observe him. Once again the universse is kind in sending me little gifts.
So he was sitting on the bench. Loafers with tassels. Wrinkled khakis. Yellow polo. Name tag encased in worn plastic hanging down from a lanyard. Glasses. Close shaved head- so close I thought he was bald at first. Shoulders hunched down. Elbows resting on his knees. Now sitting up. Elbows on knees. Sitting up. His only movement. Eyes always cast down. Even when people walk in. Doesn’t raise his head for eye contact. Holding something in his hand. A candy bar? Maybe a granola bar. Off brand. Nothing I recognize. Taking a bite. Holding it in both hands between bites. I see the silver foil in his hand and then it is gone. I don’t know where it went. Now stretching the fingers of his right hand. Opening and closing. Like he his hand hurts. Maybe artheritis? The weather is changing, after all. A little cough from time to time. His hand up to his face. I thought it was going to be a kind of a rub, but he is holding it there. Hand covering mouth and chin. Elbow on knee. Rubbing hands together. Impatient but calm. Not agitated. Now looking around. Crisp white undershirt peeking out of collar. Wrinkles at the back of his neck. No… rolls. Ears are a little big. Soft and plump. Skin looks soft. Even sitting I can tell he’s not tall. Sitting up now but shoulders angled straight down. Like a captial A. Gravity pulling them down. With better posture his shoulders might be broad. Not sure his age. 60’s? Late? The ID badge suggest he still works. Nose a little big. A little red. Broken capillaries? A big drinker? Pants a little short. Belt and shoes both shiny brown leather. Soft belly ovrhanging his belt. Looks weary. Tired. End of a long day. Very still. Occasionally touching his face. Wiping nose. A little cold coming on? He’s barely even noticed yet. No kleenex in his pocket. Forward and back. Not rocking. Shifting. Stoic. Former military? A lump or a mountain. I can’t tell for sure yet. The glasses are bifocals. Looking out the window but never in towards the store. Waiting, I assume, but not looking in to watch. Just leaned back and took his wallet out of his pocket. Straightening out his cash! Trying not to look like he’s just sitting thre with nothing to do. Not playing on a cell phone. (Reflective maybe of his age.) Now organizing the credit cards. Keeping busy. Looking towars the store now. Getting just a little impatient. Ready to go. Still not making eye contact with people as they walk in and out. Hasn’t smiled once. Looks weary. Maybe a little bit past when he would’ve liked to retire. Not quite doing what he had hoped. Wanted a job with shiny shoes and shiny belts. Not wrinkled khakis and a garish yellow polo. Plastic nametags on lanyards. I think he is disappointed. Tings are fine. Things have always been fine. Just not quite what he hoped for.
Put his wallet back in his pocket. Shifted a little. A wiggle. (He wouldn’t have called it a wiggle.) Getting uncomfortable on the metal bench. Butt getting numb. Took something out of his pocket and I can’t tell what it is. I can see his reflection in the window. I’m standing behind him. He’s almost caressing it. I see it now. Maybe it is a phone after all. Maybe a little younger than I thought. Yes. HIs phone. But I suspect he uses it mostly for phone calls. He isn’t reactin to whatever he’s watching or doing. Still no smiles. No emotion. Maybe he is texting his wife. “Are you finished yet? I’m ready to go. Hurry now.” But he doesn’t look angry at all. Resigned. Even patient. It’s not the first time he has sat and waited for her. A routine they have. She doesn’t like driving very much anymore. So he takes her shopping . And waits on the bench. Thinking about things that weren’t just the way he hoped. Good wife. Grandkids. But some things he would do differently. A little more adventure maybe. A little more life. Less sitting on a bench watching people pass him by. Holding the phone. Just looking at it. Running his thumb along the edge. Doesn’t quite know what everybody things is so great about these things. He’s just fine in his own head.
Holding his phone in his left hand. Swiping now. Solitaire? NO. No games. Thumbs are up and he’s focused. Reading texts maybe? Still ero change in facial expression. Ankles crossed now casuall. Leaning back a little bit. Somehow this makes him look younger. A little bit. Now he’s looking in. At the checkout. Eyebrows up- making wrinkles on his forehead.
Damn. I gave up one second too soon. I walk to my car and here they come. Following right behind me. Walking right past. And I misjudged every single thing. He is smiling at her. She is younger. Cute. Trendy. (Blushing when I realize I am admiring her hair that looks much like mine.) And she’s carrying her own packages, thank you very much. But he does open the door for her. With a little smile. Not the little old lady I expected at all. You might think that standing next to someone younger would make him seem older… but he doesn’t . He seems younger next to her. He seems younger standing up. Not hunched over anymore. Nice strides. Not a hint of a shuffle in his walk. And his shirt says Baylor University. Not what I expected. And as he walked by I smiled andsaid hello. And he said hello. Strong low voice. A little nod. Not quite a smile, but friendly enough.
Maybe he was only waiting for contact. Much like me.
I should have said hello sooner…
All of this read to my acting class. Forgetting a bit about who and where I am. Which was part of the task I think. Liz- the teacher – liked the things she saw on my face. She liked that I got lost in it. I liked that I felt like I belonged there. In the middle of the makeshift stage. Telling my story.
Quiet Happy Wonder 