She opens the door for him - a pause at the threshold - reaches for his hand and leads him past her lazy-eyed brother, who is engrossed with his Nintendo DS. Up the stairs they go. Last wednesday it was the Pizza Pizza delivery guy, today it's Kevin. Her mother is out enjoying the all-inclusive spa package her husband got her to quell suspicions of an affair with the realtor.
As Kevin unbuttons his coveralls, Judie dreams of the day when the guy on the fifth row of her thursday class, "Introduction to Frederico Fellini", finally turns around to ask her for notes on La Dolca Vita. She would comply graciously with a flutter of her long eyelashes. Then maybe after the ritual coffee date, she could ask him to return a favour, and walk her to 15 Lowther. They would walk through the Huron street playground, where they would stop for fifteen pristine minutes; Judie would take out D.H. Lawrence - in the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark elm tree - and read it to him.
O' but till the day that these dreams come to fruition, she will carry on in anonymity, for she does not know his name, and him hers. She will slip out every thursday before the end of class, during the 10 minute break, and walk over to the Manulife Centre, pay 11 bucks, and watch the images flicker across the great wide screen, in solitude.
She will heave a great sigh as her lungs, like the trees, fill with air.
3 comments:
Could this really be a comment from Nags, has he returned from the dead, using a generic school computer? Yes. Is there a theme developing on this blog, in the two latest posts? Yes. What could it be? Insufferable love, perchance? Indeed.
You are bubbling over in romance these days. It must have something to do with the spring air and the germinating magnolias.
Excellent uses of the dash.
If Judie (a connection to Jude?) breathed in air like the trees, well, that is quite literally insufferable. A lung full of carbon dioxide is certain death.
Unless of course one has an iron lung.
Judie is a dreamer.
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