Sitting on the couch in the staff room, I indulge in daydreams of him, as I always do. I imagine him walking in the room right this moment, and how we would say hello, and be polite and civil towards one another, carefully treading that fine line that separates distance from intimacy and acquaintance from friendship. I know we would say little that truly mattered, and leave out all the words that do matter. But I know also we would be glad to see one another, and somehow make the most of those few minutes shared together.
Oh, here is his voice I hear! He must be in the next room – so close, and yet so far from me! I itch to get up from my seat and make my way to him; and at the same time, I wish to disappear out of sight should he suddenly burst in to this room. I long to see him; I dread to see him.
Someone is walking outside the door and my eyes, in their unconscious habit, look up to check who it is. It is him. Of all people. It is him, him who I had been daydreaming about just a minute ago. And no amount of daydreaming ever prepares me properly for the experience of simply being in front of this person. Overwhelmed by surprise, anticipation and nervousness, not a word can come out of my mouth. I can only smile. He smiles back, and walks on.
But then he comes back, and I realise it is so that he can speak with me for a little while. I feel very touched, which only overwhelms me further, and makes it harder for me to speak.
“How was your student?”
“Oh, not too bad … some weeks are better than others,” I manage to say. Just as in my daydream, my heart is racing rather uncontrollably. “And how is your exam marking?”
“It’s all done”, he says with a deep sigh that lets me know how relieved he is to have this burden off his shoulders, “but now I have to do all the reports.”
I want to say something, but no words come to neither mind nor mouth. There is that discomfort I always feel with him, of having to speak like we are mere acquaintances who are learning one another’s ways. This small talk is so hard – not because it is uninteresting, but because neither him nor I are cut for it. There should not be small talk between us, but it is the only choice we have, to have any talk at all.
“I am playing in the concert next week,” I say finally, finding his gaze again as this a safe, comfortable topic of conversation.
“So I heard. I will be playing the organ.”
“Oh really? I’m excited!!” I say before I have the time to contain my emotions. How had I not envisioned this?! That I will get to perform in a concert with this glorious and beloved soul? How blessed I am! I hope he will not see as far into my feelings as my smile is capable of taking him. But just to be sure, I look away from his kind, warm gaze and lean back into the couch as if to melt and disappear in it.
“Well, it was nice to see you,” he says as we make eye-contact one last time.
“You too.”
And off he goes, and my day’s been made.
Read Conversation at work {him} for his side of the story.
Words & Feelings 