He never made eye contact; not since Maria died. That dog had meant the world to him and now he wasn't sure he could see people's eyes and not see the man who killed Maria. So he stood in doorways and didn't look in people's eyes.
He never looked, but he could always pick out an attractive woman as she walked by. They have just the right mix of speed and calm in their gait. And they always slid by as far away as they could in the doorway. When a whole string went through, they would go single-file. And the smell--a perfect mixture of scent and freshness. Attractive women all smelled the same, no matter what the name of their perfume said. They weren't worth looking at; they reminded him of Maria.
He never looked, but he could tell which men were at the top of their social groups. They led, not just metaphorically, but physically. A group always crystallizes when trapped in an awkward doorway with a man standing in it. The whole mass slows, but one man does not pause his gait. As they see his confidence, they all speed up. Those are usually the doctors, the wrestlers, the hunters, the engineers. They outshine their trucking-burger flipping-construction working friends. They all weren't worth looking at; they reminded him of Maria.
He never looked, but he could always tell. Finally, he stood in enough doorways to identify the whole of the human race by not looking at them. So he stopped. He started walking through doorways, becoming one of the mass. Then one day, it happened.
A woman was standing in a doorway which he was about to pass through. He walked past her like a businessman. She didn't look at him. So he walked past her like a seamstress. She didn't look at him. So he walked past her like a landscape artist. She didn't look at him. So he walked past her like a baker. She didn't look at him. So he walked past her like himself and she looked at him.
He raised his eyes for the first time, looked a person straight in the face, and said four words. "Maria, I missed you." And he ran away.
Why would he care if she looked at him?
ReplyDeleteI DO NOT KNOW.
ReplyDeleteMAYBE HE FOUND A KINDRED SPIRIT.
PERHAPS HE WAS CREEPED OUT.
Maybe he was looking for love.
WELL HE SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR LOVE.
ReplyDeleteCreeped out fits the whole being visited by a ghost with poor eye contact.
Are we sure it's a ghost? I can see that. I don't LIKE it, but I can see it.
ReplyDeleteI don't know. Let me ask.
ReplyDeleteYou wanted the sentimental answer, didn't you? Nope.
This is the best thing I think I've ever read about a dog. (Excluding, of course, Love That Dog.) (And excluding all the good things about dogs that I haven't read but am assuming exist.)
ReplyDeleteI really liked the portrayal of love NOT connected to a human.
A question for animal lovers, does losing a pet hurt this much?
Marley and Me?
ReplyDeleteAnd when I was a kid, I was devastated by my dog's death.
Can I just say that I hate that so many books about dogs make the dog die? Like whenever there's a dog on the cover, you know THAT DOG IS DOOMED.
ReplyDeleteI hate that. I miss my dog.
Sorry, Robby. That's awful.
Didn't read or see that.
ReplyDeleteAnd I guess I was too . . . But only because my parents killed him while I was at camp. (Like would it really have killed you to wait two more days??) I was more angry at them then I was upset at losing my dog.
Not Homeward Bound--or . . . The Incredible Journey, yes. That is the book title. Those dogs live. (Well I guess the golden retriever dies, but not until the end, after he gets home, right?) (But, then again, humans weren't really apart of that book either . . . Ok, you're right.)
Maybe the woman was the dog in its next life and she could only recognize him as himself? That's what I immediately thought of, although after reading all the comments I'm not quite sure anymore...
ReplyDelete