A particularly strong memory I have of doing bookkeeping with Edna La Montagne-Voegele. I’m at her house one weekend, I come upstairs to share a thought with her. We’rein the stairway going to the second floor.
“Think about it. Bookkeeping. I want to write. Maybe write a book today. You’re a religious Christian. A person of the book. It’s like bookkeeping is some cismic pun and we’re supposed to work together.”
She genuinely smiled and, if I recall correctly, she hugged me.
Now I’m a title searcher, a job which fell in my lap out of the blue because I knew someone who thought of me. I’m surrounded by books all day. I am looking up books and pages for deeds, mortgages, grantors, grantees, et al. I’m still a person of the book. Or, of books.
This coincidence, this cosmic pun, continues and I can only think of Edna. Part of me is nostalgic. Another part is adamant I need to forget her and look forward to my future. Yet when Leah comes out of the blue, asking “Were you attracted to her?” or “Did you suck her tits?” or, “Did she blow you?” only serves to rub it in that I could’ve truly given a reason for Leah to cheat on me,a reason to roar “I hate you. I’m not in love with you anymore. I don’t care!” Where “I don’t care” became her mantra.
If only I truly did something to deserve this, rather than sonething innocent like sitting with Edna leaning against my chest on the couch watching To Kill A Mockingbird.
And my answer to Leah, and to you, is this truth.
I did nothing.
She did nothing.
And if there was tension, or opportunity, I was completely blind to it. As for being attracted to Edna? Leah gets silence, but she hears the yes hidden within that silence.