The gray sky is swollen with rain. I'm walking my bicycle to the gas station by my house, where I expect to find an air pump that can fix my deflated rear tire. As I lock my bicycle, a ruddy-faced man approaches me. He could be 45 or 65, but either way his body shows the signs of years of mistreatment. He's wearing a white tank top with too-thin straps. When he reaches me, I expect him to ask for change. Instead, he says, "I speak only Polish. You speak Polish?" The only Polish I remember from my youth means either "good" or "I love you."
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Polish," I tell him, hoping that he will go away.
He looks confused, then points to me. "You sad?" he says. Now I feel my heart soften, and I am grateful for the empathy of strangers.
"Well, yes," I say. "I suppose so."
He smiles, and I think we have somehow crossed the language barrier to connect, and it makes me feel better. And then the man starts pointing at the bank across the street. He gestures wildly, first at the bank, then at my breasts, and finally he makes the universal finger-rubbing sign of money.
"You sex?" he says, grinning wickedly.
Oh my god, I've been mistaken for a prostitute, I think. "No," I say emphatically. "Sad, not sex. No sex!"
"I pay," he says weakly.
"No. No sex," I say. "Please leave me alone." He wobbles away, and I go buy a Coke to get change for the air pump.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Polish," I tell him, hoping that he will go away.
He looks confused, then points to me. "You sad?" he says. Now I feel my heart soften, and I am grateful for the empathy of strangers.
"Well, yes," I say. "I suppose so."
He smiles, and I think we have somehow crossed the language barrier to connect, and it makes me feel better. And then the man starts pointing at the bank across the street. He gestures wildly, first at the bank, then at my breasts, and finally he makes the universal finger-rubbing sign of money.
"You sex?" he says, grinning wickedly.
Oh my god, I've been mistaken for a prostitute, I think. "No," I say emphatically. "Sad, not sex. No sex!"
"I pay," he says weakly.
"No. No sex," I say. "Please leave me alone." He wobbles away, and I go buy a Coke to get change for the air pump.
Labels: strangers
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