Been A Long Time

You see her at a party. You walk towards her. You have a minute or less for the flashback. Did you not play doctor-nurse with her? Was she the doctor? Your mother ticks you off for kicking her butt, ‘She’s not a little girl anymore.’ She will always be your little girl. She shared secrets with you. You talked about sex. With hindsight, that talk was as good as it gets. Remember the day you first saw her as a lady. You were as tongue-tied then. You feel anger and compassion. She smiles at you.

‘Hi,’ you manage to say.

She looks at you, the smile is still the same, not broadening, not thinning out.

‘Oh hi,’ she says.

‘It’s been a long time,’ you say.

‘Uh…huh,’ she admits.

You try to recall the best anecdote.

‘Excuse me,’ she says.

‘Hi,’ she says.

‘Oh hi,’ he says.

You have more than a minute to decide if you should feel bitter, cynical, depressed, lonely, or whether you should turn philosophical.

You notice her. She smiles at you. You smile back. You have less than a minute to search your files. Do you know her? She looks familiar. Her dress is atrocious, her makeup hideous, she looks young, her butt reminds you of Scarlett Johansson. Will she call you uncle? You tuck in your double chin above the tiny third. You present your best profile.

‘Hi,’ she says.

‘Oh hi,’ you say.

‘It’s been a long time,’ she says.

‘Uh…huh,’ you say.

She talks about a shared past. Is she that old? You notice another smiling face.

‘Excuse me,’ you say.