She's gotta be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. I don't think everyone would agree with me, but that's how I see her.
I don't know who she is, but I spend an hour a day with her: Monday through Friday, noon to one. It's probably been a few months now. Sitting at her end of the table, me at mine. I used to sit alone, content to have the solitude. But now, she's become a silent partner in the middle of my day. A kind of sharing, if you will, of the escape from our nine to five.
I've never talked to her. I have no idea if she even knows I'm here; I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. And this arrangement suited me just fine. I'm no idiot. I know there are types of people that I'm not one of. And oil and water just don't mix. But recently, with the weather getting warmer, she has begun to shed layers, exposing more of the appealing flesh underneath.
This has caused two problems in our unspoken agreement to overlook and omit one another. The first of which, she makes it nearly impossible for me to keep my eyes, and more importantly, my thoughts to myself. Temptation of the woman makes it very difficult for me to keep my mind on other things as my head often fills with thoughts of her curves and beautiful sensual body. But this is forgivable, as it's not her problem that I find her so attractive. A little bit of discipline and I can usually refocus and think of other things.
But it's the second problem that is harder to ignore. As she is more exposed, and thusly, more appealing, this has caused men to start coming over randomly and interrupting what used to be a wonderful, tranquil spot to relax. And these morons, these barely ape-like creatures with half a brain cell, never get the picture when she tries to dismiss them with a polite rebuff. So I'm forced to listen to her come up with a hundred different ways to say, "No thank you. I'm not interested." I have to hand it to her though, I run out of patience for these mouth breathing idiots far sooner than she ever does.
And as much as I feel for her, because she's just trying to be herself while going about her own business when these bipedal pigs come traipsing along disturbing her, I have nearly come to the point to where I have started to feel it necessary to either find a new place to eat, or that she must. On one such day, when I am feeling particularly short tempered and completely not in the mood to deal with said walking, talking dickheads, I took it upon myself to do something about it.
It was a particularly warm summer's day and she was wearing a light cotton dress that seemed more like tissue paper blowing in a breeze than body coverings. The dress, the sandals, the way her hair seemed to float on a breeze that I only imagined, all gave this woman an air of angelic beauty that warmed a cynic’s heart.
From her purse she pulled a Tupperware filled with fresh vegetables and other grown wholesome foods, which made my bologna sandwich and chips look just pathetic. She's sitting over there, a picture of beauty and health, smiling and content as she looks to her food, all the while I sit in my mental storm cloud of misery while eating the very definition of “given up all hope.” It was a day I had exhausted all my patience dealing with blustering management when I saw it coming. Some cock-sure dude with more testicles than IQ points come walking across the park, headed directly to her. I mean, do these guys have some kind of GPS guiding them to her or something?
The guy wasn't even to the table and my blood was starting to boil. And I knew that if I didn't get rid of this asshole quickly, I was going to blow my top. And that would have made her feel bad, and I didn't want that either. So I quickly gathered my lunch and slid over a little so that I was sitting directly across from her. She looked up from her lunch with inquisitive eyes that seemed shocked that I had done such a thing. My presence across from her stopped her in her tracks as I looked back into her deep pools of blue and green. Then, before this stranger got to the table, I spoke.
“And Mark and Janice were wondering if we would come over this weekend and barbeque.”
The poor girl was stunned. She had no clue what I was talking about, or why I was even sitting across from her saying these things. But before she could gather her thoughts and ask what in the hell I was doing, the stranger came up to the table and stood silent next to her.
She turned her head with a mouth full of food and looked at the man who was staring at us, more her than me. I looked up at the guy and quickly added, “Can I help you?”
The guy didn't say anything in return as he froze for a moment, smiled and then walked away. The lady before me watched as the man walked away not even looking back. Then she looked at me and understood what had just happened. She quickly covered the smile on her face with her hand and said “Thank you,” with a mouth full of food.
I didn't say anything in return. I merely picked up what was technically a sandwich and continued to eat as she and I enjoyed the peace and quiet of the hour before returning to where ever we come from when we are not on the bench enjoying our solitude and tranquility.
That is until my brain started shouting at me, ‘why in the hell didn't you say anything back? You moron!’