8:24 am Saturday, Jersey City, NJ
A veil of silence droops itself over us. She looks at me, like some caged zoo animal who just performed a trick for her amusement; slightly impressed, yet at odds on what to make of it. I almost make the bone-headed mistake of repeating myself, as if to press home my sublime and deeply profound analysis that she no doubt thinks I read off a Chinese fortune cookie. I've made a mistake I think.
“That's something. Very um yea.” she scoffs.
“I'm sorry. It didn't come off the way I-” she holds up one hand to cut me off short while sipping on her coffee. “MMM” slight pause to savor her coffee.” No no. I understand what you meant. I look like shit, and you feel like shit. That's some deep stuff man. You should write captions for The New Yorker.” I shuffle around shaking my head in an attempt to recover.
“You'd make tons cash then here, I bet.” she finally concludes. It's like watching a live car collision on TV. If you were a viewer, you couldn't help but be drawn. I finally understood the appeal in why people stood and stared; there's a sort of satisfaction in watching people suffer.
In a show of deflated surrender I simply allow myself to let go. “I'd take up that offer, but I wouldn't do it for the money. I'd do it for the satisfaction that millions would read my clever, well thought out comments. It's good for the ego, and at least it keeps my Mother material for when she shows off my captions to other jealous mothers. Plus, I'd go to the New Yorker because I hear they have a Starbucks in their building.”
She looks me over curiously. A chuckle escapes her mouth. She stares on ahead, twirling her coffee. “My mother wanted me to be a Doctor.”
“Let me guess. You're last name is Stienburg.” I say, leering over to her. She examines me from the corner of her eye and smiles. “No. It's Hein.” I let go a laugh, rocking my self to and for from the jolt of humor I found suddenly emanating through me.
Slowly Marie turns to face me. Extending her right hand she offers a hand shake. “You're Josh right? Marie. We've never officially met.” I eagerly take her hand and shake, likely displaying an idiotic grin that would embarrass me upon looking at it. “Yea, it's Josh. Pleasure to officially meet you.” She snorts, laughing. “In the elevator.”
“Yes. In the elevator.” I reply giggling. The doors finally swing open. We both step out, and walk to our office. “I'm glad I'm not the only one they suckered in today.” she says.
I hold the door open for Marie to enter. She gives an approving nod and enters.
Life finds ways of making us all look like suckers. But from time to time, we find in ourselves the capacity to get the better of it – whether on purpose or by pure stupid luck. I for one don't wish to squander the good luck I have so far received. It's been too long since I've been this fortunate.
