Yesterday, Brown line, Chicago Avenue. An old man slowly ascended the metal stairway. He had greeted me before launching into a description of his Sunday: "Parked my car down the street. Now I'm going to Marshall Field's to find a gift for my wife. What should I give her?"
Hell if I know, I wanted to say. But instead, I suggested something that the two of them could enjoy together. Cooking, maybe? "I gave her a $7000 fur coat last year," the old man said as we stood on the platform. "Diamonds the year before that." Oh.
"You got someone?" he asked. His eyes were blue with cataracts. "Yep," I told him. I always tell men yes, no matter the veracity. "That's the best thing in the world," the old man said. "Best thing in the world. I married my wife when she was 18. I was 21. We've got five children, no grandchildren." We got on the train.
We were two stops from the library when he said, "Name's Ephraim. I'd like to talk with you some more. How about you give me your number?" Oh no. "I don't think so," I told him. "You have a wife." Not to mention the fact that you are, say, fifty years older than me. Ephraim's blue eyes met mine, and he winked, and he said, "Girlfriend, not wife. I was married once, for only two years."
Now it seemed that he was either a manipulative liar or a crazy old man, and thankfully, there was the library stop. "It was nice talking with you," I said. "Have a good Sunday." I walked onto the platform and didn't look back.
Hell if I know, I wanted to say. But instead, I suggested something that the two of them could enjoy together. Cooking, maybe? "I gave her a $7000 fur coat last year," the old man said as we stood on the platform. "Diamonds the year before that." Oh.
"You got someone?" he asked. His eyes were blue with cataracts. "Yep," I told him. I always tell men yes, no matter the veracity. "That's the best thing in the world," the old man said. "Best thing in the world. I married my wife when she was 18. I was 21. We've got five children, no grandchildren." We got on the train.
We were two stops from the library when he said, "Name's Ephraim. I'd like to talk with you some more. How about you give me your number?" Oh no. "I don't think so," I told him. "You have a wife." Not to mention the fact that you are, say, fifty years older than me. Ephraim's blue eyes met mine, and he winked, and he said, "Girlfriend, not wife. I was married once, for only two years."
Now it seemed that he was either a manipulative liar or a crazy old man, and thankfully, there was the library stop. "It was nice talking with you," I said. "Have a good Sunday." I walked onto the platform and didn't look back.
0 Responses to “meeting ephraim”
Post a Comment