Sunday, March 30, 2008

UNDISCLOSED #3 - 30th March 2008

It is 11.20am and I am sitting on a public bench in a square.
I have my bag and a large bunch of white lillies. There are about 20, some are not quite open, some are half open and the rest are in full bloom.
They are big.
The whole bunch almost covers my torso as I sit with them.
I sit and watch the people go by on their way to Sunday brunch, to home after a night out, to the supermarket, to the coffee shop, to the newsagent, to meet someone or just wandering. I can only suppose.
Some people look over and smile at me, some ignore me, most take a passing glance.
A woman in her 50’s passes and with a knowing smile comments “Someone is lucky!”. I smile and nod in return.
It is an hour later and I am still here. I have shuffled a bit, moved around, leaned against the bench with my legs up, sat cross-legged.
More people are passing, glancing, now some are watching.
They know I have been here for a long time, waiting.
They are starting to construct their own story as to what might be taking place.
I see some familiar faces passing back from their shopping or brunch or whatever it is they have been doing. Some smile at me, acknowledging some familiarity others give me a quick furtive smile as if embarressed for me, that I am still sitting here, obviously waiting. They too construct their own story.
It is now two hours on.
An old man has been sitting next to me for the last 20 minutes, chatting away. The flowers offered an excuse for him to sit down and chat. He chats and chats. He asks me who I am waiting for. He asks me what I do. He says I am a very pretty lady. He tells me about his wife, now passed away. He tells me about his grand kids. He tells me what he is doing today. He tells me how long he has lived in this area and what he used to do. Finally, he gets up as if to leave. He seems a bit concerned as if it is his duty to chaperone me until whoever I am waiting for arrives. He seems a bit torn as to how he should make his departure. I say “Well it has been very nice to meet you and chat, have a lovely day!”
This gives him permission to leave and he does.
It is now 2.10pm. My flowers are holding up in the sun but I am feeling and no doubt looking a bit weary. I have just spotted the old man on the other side of the road. I smile and wave and he smiles and waves enthusiastically back, but shuffles on quite determined. I know he just does not know what to make of me and my situation.
I pull out a note pad and write
“I am sorry I missed you”
I get up and place the flowers on the bench and place the note just inside the clear plastic on top.
It is 2.25pm and I go home.

2 comments:

Unreasonable Adults said...

i am always struck by the vividness of these un-disclosures. this entry, especially, i follow the journey, get tired with you, acknowledge the duration and sentiment.

missed spaces with imprints.

xj

Mark Reep said...

First-time visitor- This one particularly resonates with me. The note is such a great final stroke. Makes me wish I could observe continuing responses generated after you've left. But that not-knowing is nice too.