Who was that woman?
That woman I just saw while walking out of that restaurant.
She was sitting at a table by the door.
Glasses, a hat. Like Lois Lane
She looked at me like she knew me and I said hello because I thought I recognized her. But I couldn’t remember her name so I just kept going out the door.
Now I can’t even remember how I know her.
I know I know her. Or used to know her.
Somehow, she was very important to me. She helped me out in a time of trouble. She used to roll her eyes. I’d say something dumb and she’d roll her eyes and get me something I needed. Even though she didn’t have to.
Maybe she works in the library. County recorders office. Or at the newspaper.
I think I may have been in love with her. No, she’s too young, I was never in love with her. Not in that way. It’s just that I wanted something, needed something and she was able to give it to me. Almost out of the goodness of her heart.
And now I can’t even remember who she is.
I’m sick. I’m old. I should just walk out into the traffic and kill myself.
At home, at night I go to sleep searching for the lost memory.
Did I meet her down by the river in a canoe? Or was it on a ferry in southeastern Alaska? Or at the foreign correspondents club at Panow Pan along the Mae Kong.
She has something to do with water. With life. With mud.
I sleep poorly, turning and maybe even groaning in anguish.
I don’t care about the woman anymore, I’m worried for myself. I feel as if there is a black hole in my brain and slowly but surely it’s swallowing all the memories of my life.
I get up at 5:30 and drive to work in the dark. I feel terrible. I look like a piece of gum in the gutter.
I pull into Java Joe’s to get some chemical help and there she is, behind the drive-up window. I wanna tell her I love her but I don’t because I don’t because it would be too weird. All I can say is “wow!” and she rolls her eyes and gets me my cup of coffee.
