I STOOD IN FRONT OF the grocery store, phone in hand, and stared at the ten little numbers displayed on my phone’s screen.
Did that really happen?
Why did he give me his number?
Me! Did he think I was gay?
Do I look gay?
Is he gay?
Me!
My thoughts were racing. I didn’t know what to think, how to react. I was excited and terrified at the same time. Nothing like that ever happened to me. I never expected it to, never dreamed that anyone would take an interest in me. Especially someone like Adam. He exuded masculinity from every pore, from the finely-muscled chest, to the tattoo sleeve, to how he carried himself. Sure. Confident. Comfortable in his own skin. What would he ever see in a loser like me? I was a nothing, a nobody. I worked in a comic shop, lived in a studio apartment, took the bus everywhere.
Why was he having this kind of effect on me after talking to him for a total of ten minutes in the past twenty-four hours?
But I couldn’t deny he was. Maybe I was just desperate and grateful for the attention. Maybe I was reading too much into it. He couldn’t really mean anything by it, right?
I saved his information in my contacts, pocketed my phone, and pulled out my list. Given that I was using public transportation, not to mention being limited on funds, I had to watch what I bought.
While I was on the bus for the return trip home, I heard a ping from my cell phone and felt the vibration in my pocket. The elderly woman next to me glanced in my direction, and I smiled apologetically at her. Fishing my phone from my pocket, I pressed the button to light up the screen and saw I had a text message. From Adam.
Huh?
I turned the volume on my phone down, leaving it on vibrate, and opened the message.
-Hi!
Simple. To the point. Non-offensive.
My fingers tried to type out a response, but my hands were shaking with excitement and nerves. Finally, after several mistakes trying to type a longer message, I simply sent out -Hi.
-What are you doing?
Slightly embarrassed, I typed - On the bus headed home.
Adam might as well know what kind of a loser I really was up front. I could give him an easy out if he wanted it.
-Seriously?
There it was, The Judgment. People always seemed to look down at me when they found out I didn’t drive, like I had done something criminal that prevented me from driving, or there was something seriously wrong with me. No one believed you could truly survive without a car. I was always asked the questions, “At your age?” “How do you get around?” and “What if you want to go somewhere?” My responses were always “I manage,” and “I don’t go anywhere.” The last wasn’t completely true. I went places like the drug store or grocery store. But socially? Why would I go anywhere socially when I had no social life?
-I could have given you a ride home.
Wait, where were the questions?
-I’m fine on the bus. You don’t even know where I live.
-Doesn’t matter. I still could have.
Surprised, I wanted to ask him why, but I withheld.
He sent a second message. -Still, it must suck.
I couldn’t lie. Sometimes it did. Especially during the winter, or pouring rain. But I wasn’t in a position where I could change my circumstances. -It can. But it can also be peaceful too.
-How so?
I thought about it for a minute. -Sometimes the sound of the bus turns into kind of a white noise. You can drown everything else out and just stare out the window or read.
All of which was true. I found myself doing that, simply staring out the window, quite a bit. It helped to clear my thoughts.
-Even so, ever need a ride, just call or text.
Where did that come from? Why was he offering me, a virtual stranger, a ride? Would he offer one to a hitchhiker? Was he some kind of stalker?
-Ok. I highly doubted I ever would. In fact, I highly doubted this would ever go anywhere. Promises are easily made and easily broken. People with good intentions rarely follow through on them, at least in my experience.
After several minutes, I thought the conversation was finished. I pocketed my phone and turned my attention to the passing buildings outside of the bus.
My phone vibrated again, and my heart gave a little sputter. Maybe the conversation wasn’t as over as I had thought.
-I’m glad I ran into you today.
He was?
-You were?
He responded with a smiley face emoji. -I was.
Somewhat dumbfounded, I responded -Why?
Several minutes passed, and I thought he had given up. I wouldn’t have blamed him. I’ll admit, I wasn’t much of a conversationalist, even on my best days. And I had never texted anyone before. No one! In this day and age, that was virtually unheard of. Everyone texted. It seemed to be the primary method of communication, especially in the younger generation. And, let’s face it, the question wasn’t exactly friendly. If fact, if read wrong, that one-word response could have been taken incredibly combatively.
Finally, my phone vibrated, and I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
-I don’t know anyone here anymore. Except for my brother and nephew. I haven’t been out since getting back.
-Getting back?
-To the States.
-From where?
-Afghanistan.
I quirked an eyebrow. -What were you doing there?
-In the Marines.
Well, that was news. However, it completely fit his persona. It also explained his physical build and the tattoos. -For how long?
-How long in the Marines or how long in Afghanistan?
-Both.
-Marine for about 15 years, Four tours in Afghanistan.
-Wow! Are you out?
After I sent that, I realized it could have been taken a couple of different ways. Was he out of the Marines, or was he gay and out?
His response was almost immediate. -Yes.
“Yes” to which? But it was impossible for him to know which question I wanted answered, and I didn’t know how to pose them without coming off offensively.
-Why’d you leave the Marines?
Another lull in the conversation followed. I feared perhaps I had encroached into too much personal territory and had scared him off.
My phone vibrated again. Saw too much.
I suspected that was the answer to both questions. There was a simple truth in that answer. One can see too much, experience too much, before they finally decide to give up. I should know.
-I’m sorry. I sent back. And I was. I had watched the news. I knew from the news stories how horrible it could be over there. I couldn’t imagine surviving in those circumstances, surrounded by all of the death and destruction. I had nightmares of my own, no thanks to my own past. I couldn’t imagine what kind of nightmares an experience like that could give.
-Thank you. But you don’t need to be. My choices, my consequences.
I didn’t want the conversation to end. For the first time, in entirely too long, I was enjoying talking to someone other than the people I worked with. I got the sense that there was something more to Adam’s time overseas, but I couldn’t ask. We didn’t know each other, really, and it wasn’t my place. I needed to change the subject.
-How’s your nephew?
-We’re heading there now. Ryan was pissed when I got home, but I really can’t blame him.
-Why?
-Pissed?
-Yeah.
-Because I was gone so long.
Because of me. I didn’t say that, but as if he knew what I was thinking, he texted. -Don’t apologize. I know you were going to.
How did he know? Again, I didn’t text that. Instead, I sent a smiley face emoji.
-I wanted to talk to you.
Again, my heart gave a little flutter. I could almost believe he truly did want to talk to me.
Almost.
-At the hospital. Gotta run. Can I text you later?
An involuntary grin spread across my face. -Yes.
-COOL! Followed by a smiley face emoji with a large grin. -Talk soon.
The grin that I had as I climbed the stairs to my studio matched that last emoji.