If you want to listen to the audio recording of this piece click here: Dry Bone
The pandemic left us with nowhere to go, but we agreed on
meeting. We waited in the long Dunkin Donut drive thru line.
“I made us Peanut butter sandwiches,” I said “to have with our
coffee.”
“For real?” Marcus’s whole face lit up.
I nodded “and I brought bananas, do you wanna have yours
while we wait?”
“Naw, I’ll have it with ma coffee.”
He ate his banana quickly, and was now taking small slow
bites from his sandwich, and long savoring sips from his caramel iced-coffee "when I met you, I wanted to marry you.” He looked at me, smiling but meaning
it too.
My heart ached for him, how his innocence let him say
whatever crossed his mind.
“Oh Marcus!” I let out an amused laugh, “I’m too old for you,
I’m turning forty in October, you’re only twenty five!” “But I’m glad we’re
friends,” I add the alternative in what I hoped was a warm, honest tone.
Friendship, what a dry bone compared to the possibility of
romance, I thought. But I wasn’t sure that with someone like Marcus, so young,
so inexperienced there can be anything resembling romance.
I was his old, wise friend, I inwardly laughed at this
thought, like a big sister, who made peanut butter sandwiches, and brought
bananas for breakfast on rainy days. The dear old thing, the big grey blanket
that got too hot and stifling on a warm night, it had to be pushed away.
“You should be with a young, beautiful, exciting girl,
someone you can share your dreams with.” I told him.
“I don’t mind you being older, I prefer older women, they
know what they want in life, none of them young girls showing their nipples and
dancing all night at clubs every weekend, I’ve dated older women in the past.”
Marcus said.
“But I mind.” I wanted to say, then stopped myself. I mind, because there’s no compatibility between us, what would we talk about? And yet here we were, drinking iced-coffee on a rainy April day. Not knowing what life held for us in this terrifying pandemic, will we survive it?
But Wait! Hang
On! I could go dancing all night and show my nipples! Why did Marcus think I’m
a dowdy, prude old woman? I can be slutty, I can be a total slut, as long I can
be in bed at 9:30. Although, it’s probably socially unacceptable to show
nipples before at least 11 pm, but still, I can out-slut all them girls at the
club, as long as it’s before 9:30.
My mood shifted from flattered to depressed, a man saying to
a woman “I don’t mind that you’re older,” is like someone saying to the dog
shelter, they didn’t mind adopting an old, lame dog.
Why are we so bad at choosing romantic partners? I wondered, as the rain came down in
sheets, blurring the world outside.
