To Get to We

The first time we met I told you I was very forgetful. To prove myself, I left that notebook behind. Good thing you remembered that and thanks to you I got my notes back and all that was inside those pages. Good thing, too, you were not curious and nosy back then; otherwise you would have learned that that was actually not the first time we had met, that we were not and would never be in the same place. That first time you met me, to be more accurate, I was having a hell of a day, as far as I can remember. It is not easy to drive a body like mine around town without catching someone’s eye or, to be more clear, without catching someone eyeing me out. The number of bumps that morning had been more than average. The looks on the bus more terrifying, and no one was forced to finally have to put up with my presence as a bus-seat partner, which left me isolated like a huge island, moving around its jelly-like mountains with every swerve of the bus. That first time you met me, I didn’t wish for you to actually meet me, but I did need to meet you.

I have never been good with first impressions. When I was born, my father says, the doctor took such a surprise because of my looks, it took him a while to make me cry. Yes; because, obviously I would not cry on my own. I believe his stories as much as I believe he has a good sense of humor. Maybe the truth is that I was just very slow to react. I have and will always be that way: slow and unnoticeable. Maybe I am lying and the latter has changed a bit in the last couple of years. It is becoming harder and harder not to notice me. Although people don’t seem to think about it, I do notice their “glances”, only that I make it seem like I don’t. You know; to make all our lives easier. That morning I meant to be unnoticeable, I’m sorry it didn’t turn out that way for either of us. The sign was there, bare and visible in the middle of the coffee shop. I shouldn’t have run to catch the bus only for that miser bag of groceries, but, as you already know, that had already been a hell of a day.

What did you see in me that I can’t see even now? Why did you have to fall for me? You were the only one to do anything for me. We both ended on the floor. I, completely embarrassed; you, crashed by 170 pounds of pure “womanhood”, as you called it. That you were sorry you didn’t put up more signs after mopping, you said. That the coffee shop was really busy and you were in a rush. I remember mumbling something unintelligible and your smiling afterwards. I remember that just then I understood what it meant to be in love.