Sharp Broads

It is time that I make a confession. I have been going on these dates, and though I do have certain personal hopes and expectations in them, I have really just been going on them so that I have something to write about. The truth is that I have already found the love of my life.

I am in love with the prettiest girl on the bus.

I see her almost every day, and she is somebody different almost every time. That is one of the things I like about her. Every once in a while she is somebody I have seen before, and I like that, too. It feels good to get a surprise.

Whenever I board, the first thing I do is look for her. These days I ride the train mostly, but I still think of her as the prettiest girl on the bus. It is the name by which we were introduced, so many years ago. So I board and I look for her, and if I find her, I sit somewhere near her. Not too close, and not next to her, unless I can’t help it. The prettiest girl on the bus likes to have her space, and I respect that.

If I do not see her, though, I do not worry. I know that she will come eventually. I trust her. She so rarely lets me down. I sit in a space where there are a lot of seats open, so that she will have options to suit her many moods. When she boards I see her right away, and she almost always comes to me. Sometimes she will even sit right down next to me, sometimes even when she doesn’t have to. I find this so flattering, but I don’t let it show. If I did she might feel embarrassed.

And we ride together, and it feels so nice to be near her, even when she is several seats away. I don’t say anything to her: She doesn’t want me to say anything, and that is so perfect because I have nothing to say. And she doesn’t say anything to me and that is perfect too, because I do not care what she thinks. I am superficial in that way, but she accepts this about me. She does not judge. I never give her anything to judge.

And we ride together, and I notice her. I do not look at her directly, because she is not comfortable with that, and I respect her boundaries. I do not look at her in reflections, either; over the years she has noticed that men do this, and so this makes her uncomfortable, too. But I notice her, from the corner of my eye, or as my vision incidentally crosses her. And sometimes I even notice her notice me too, and it feels so good to be so together. To be doing the same thing at the same time.

And we ride together, and if she is sitting next to me her hip may be pressed against mine, or her elbow may lightly brush against mine as she reaches into her purse. And her touch is always so tender, and so nice. I always pull away from her just enough to be polite. She does not mind that I like her touch a little but she does not want me to seek it out. It is only okay if it is a mistake.

It has taken me years to learn all these things about her. Her tastes, her habits. I feel so good for having noticed. I feel like I have given her the attention she deserves.

During those two short weeks where it seemed like anything might happen with Kaye, I did not see the prettiest girl on the bus. Or if she was there, I did not notice: While I rode I saw only people, and thought: “Oh, this person is less pretty than Kaye, if only Kaye were here to look at.” It was a lonely time. I saw Kaye so rarely, and when I did it was nervous and complicated, and in between I just felt isolated and confused. But that is over now. Kaye is done, and the prettiest girl on the bus and I are back together again. Everything is as it should be. I do not even feel guilty about having left her, because she has never cared that I was there anyway.

It is good enough for me and it is the best thing.

And when the ride is over she gets off, or I get off. If she has been noticing me I will usually look directly at her as she leaves, or as I leave, and she will sometimes blush a little. “He was noticing me, too, after all,” she might be thinking. I cannot be sure.

And I am heartbroken a little once we are apart, but this passes quickly. “It’s okay,” I remind myself, “you were never really that close anyway.” And I go on with my day and it is fine after all. By the next time I board, I will have forgotten all about her, and we will get to meet each other again, and it will be as fresh and new as the very first time.