Two women were at the coffee store tonight. One was probably 15 or 16 in age; the other I assumed to be the mother, dressed in black and smoking cigarettes as if she were dying. Her son, who didn't fit the genetic pattern I was seeing, stood over them, waiting, slurping on his damn coffee drink. From what I could see, the mother ignored him; her daughter was sat down, and the boy, that blond haired boy who actively slurped with little to no remorse, was left standing.
His blue eyes kept gazing upon the two women, demanding attention, almost needing their attention. His eyes were wide and open, and I would almost describe it as amazement, if I didn't already deduce he was very unintelligent.
The questions started. "Mom, how much money do you have?” The intensity of his eyes is overwhelming. He is leaning on one leg, and swaying, trying to play up his cuteness, and I am sure he knows how.
The boy is about eight years old, just standing there, and completely obvious to the fact his mother doesn’t have time for him. I regard him much like his mother does: as an inconvenience. I wonder why people produce. What satisfaction could I possible get from a snot nosed, spoiled, and completely confused child? I’d want to play chess with my child, read books together, enjoy documentaries; I have a feeling that it would never work that way.
She barely acknowledges him, and in her stupor replies "I don't have any money left". She is going through her purse searching for her next nicotine fix. Her daughter adds bluntly "You got that right". It reminds me of a made for TV movie, where the beaten down house wife has left her husband and is trying to make it on her own.
I couldn't take anymore. I had to leave and go for a swim, in the murky cool water at the Y. I think they have a senior’s workout class right before lane swimming, and I am sure they all pee in this pool. I am mortified every time a little bit of water gets into my mouth. I can imagine all these old seniors taking turns emptying their bladders into the pool. I know if I were over 50 and had a tired body, I certainly wouldn't go to the washroom to whiz.
The life girl at the pool was flirting with me. I mean, I am not egotistical, nor to I think people find me attractive, but she kept smiling at me. After I swam for sometime she approaches me and asks what my tattoo meant. I have three mandarin symbols on my arm; I tell her phoenix, and this lead into an array of other topics including spirituality, her brother, and other overly excessive things. I just wanted to get away. I pop on my goggles as we talk to hint that I'm ready to swim again, but she dismisses the hint.
I leave. On the way out, she is by the door to say goodbye. I mumble the same and take off. Now, the showers at the Y are quite scary at times. There are men who shower for long periods of time; some I know are gay, others I can only assume are also. I am pretty sure that this guy in the shower was doing just that! I just want to clean myself, but for some reason he thinks I'm interested in more. I blatently make avoidance the top priority, not only refusing to acknowledge his staring, but I have also turned my body so that he cannot see me front on.
I think the world is making me uncomfortable. Everywhere I go there are violations. It would be nice to be able to just say 'fuck off'. I think I’m easy going, but there are so many triggers and situations that I seem to run into, when all I want is to exist in my own space. I think living in a city will never give you that privacy unless you either shelter yourself, or find places where people tend not to congregate.
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