One more true T story: “I know you’re so and so, the woman I’m tushy-to-tushy with on the T suddenly says to me. “The least you could do is say hello!” I turn and look at her. She’s puffy and droopy anywhere over 40, I’d guess; there’s something generally off about her, like an overripe fruit with bruised marks. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else, “I say, “I’m not so and so. My name is Susan. What’s yours?” She tells me and apologizes for what she said before and I say, “No problem.” Suddenly she’s confiding in me about her aches and pains. Says she has a hard time walking because of knee pain and her back hurts also. I commiserate and tell her my back hurts sometimes too but swimming really helps. “You know what really helps me?” she says and I say what? “A back massage,” she says. And then she asks if I would give her one, right there on the crowded T and me being me, actually think about it a minute before saying, “sorry but I don’t think so.” Suddenly I hear, “Do you love me?” loud in my ear. It’s her, belting the song out, and bouncing along in her seat on the crowded T. “Do you love me?” she continues, and I wonder if she’s asking me because I declined to give her the massage. “Now that I can dance? Watch me now!” She stops singing a moment, and says: “That’s my favorite scene from Ferris Bueller, when he sings: “Do you love me?” and she’s off again singing loudly. People are standing all around above us and a few heads turn, but look away, eyes quickly tucking themselves back into cell phones, fingers fiddling with their private virtual worlds, while she’s belting away. I never saw the movie but I recognize the song and her voice is oddly beautiful, a low resonant gurgle, revealing a deep joy, like an underground stream. Her chutzpah tickles me and I start to laugh, and she pumps it up, entertaining just for me, and we’re like in our own world and we don’t care cause it’s a better one, and I laugh harder. Then she stops again and says. “You know, I’m jealous of Ferris! I wish I was him! Because Ferris was free.” And I wonder if it’s because of her pains or her obvious disabilities but it’s too personal to ask, and anyway, my stop is coming up. I tell her I enjoyed her singing and I stumble out into the indifferent city, but there’s a bounce in my step, “Do you love me? Now that I can dance?” is pumping through my limbs, in the quick, straight line walking city, and there’s a definite jiggle to my step. Watch me now! https://youtube/watch?v=_xulko6p5BI
Posted on: Mon, 29 Sep 2014 22:26:17 +0000
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