The End of an Affair

We were riding the subway to Maureen's apartment in Brooklyn. Maureen was wearing a crazy nylon jumpsuit and a red hat, and her shoes were strangely angular, reminding me of a carpentry tool. I'm not stylish but I didn't feel too intimidated being with her. A lot of people couldn't tell we were together. I was standing up most of the time, trying to keep a particular expression. Maureen would begin speaking to me and excite the attention of everyone around us. Or I would start to say something and then distract myself thinking about all the leering men and what they thought about it. I can distract myself quite easily this way. I didn't want them to think I'd just had sex all over town with this girl and that they didn't have a chance. Everyone should have a *chance*, at least--even a jerk. But the worst jerks are the kind that have to smother all over their girlfriends to make everyone else feel like they don't even have a chance. I get very tired thinking about it.

We did quite a bit of walking that day, even though we weren't feeling too hot. I got to see Maureen's apartment and her view of the city. We bought some vegetables and ate lunch and Maureen changed into these bright pink Chinese slippers that looked like they had the arch-support of a wheat thin. All the kids in the neighborhood couldn't shut up about them. But they were nice about it, and it made Maureen laugh. We finally sat down in this park that didn't have any grass but had a lot of dogs and joggers. There was also a utility truck that kept passing by, throwing dirt on us at every opportunity. Still, it was nice to sit and talk with Maureen in the waning hours of our date. When we departed Brooklyn we rode over the Williamsburg bridge and Maureen told me about her rides to work, crossing that bridge at dawn. We both returned home that evening, and were sick for the rest of the week. Maureen had bronchitis and I had sinusitis. At first we thought it was SARS.