Hunched, between mouthfuls you say, “I love burning bridges. ”
My eyes go big, “What was that? You love burning bridges? Thanks for the clarification, I didn’t hear you the first 100 times.”
Why am I here? Why am I listening to YOU?
Sarcasm normally proves to be a weak conversational tool the first time you meet someone. But you like it and that keeps me here. In between mouthfuls, thoughtfuls, wordfuls, knowing you’ve lost catchphrase 1 , catchphrase 2 is catching up, “I’ve never had a dull moment in my life.”
And you continue, “I went back home to have my child. She’s a beauty. Wanna see her?”
“Of course. Oh, she is a beauty!” I sound surprised but I’m not. It’s hard to refrain from conveying some sort of enthusiasm when a parent shows off their child.
You scroll further down the gallery of you phone and land on a video. Your wide-eyed beauty queen blows off 6 candles on a big white birthday cake. I can already tell that she is going to live her life looking and acting much older than her age. She scans all the faces around her, soaking in everyone’s version of her favourite day of the year. When the scanning is done she looks straight at me, through the camera.”
Don’t fret mini-woman, I know that it may not seem like enough, but you’re mother loves you very much and very soon you will learn to truly love yourself and you’ll be unstoppable.
“Not a dull moment.” You interrupt my telepathetic, time-transcending pep talk with your daughter. 2 has caught up, and you look at me, expecting a comment, but I spare you. Call it forgiveness, I call it exceeding expectations.
We eat and drink because maybe I interest you? And your interest interests me? Through your countless reminiscences and infinite references to the past I can feel you hint at something. I wonder about your present. It’s hard not to feel that there’s something more than interest. You’re probably not curious at all.
Come on, think…..
We’ve just met. Why did you want to meet me? If you don’t want anything from me, what are you trying to give me? You keep stirring. It’s annoying but I’m not budging.
Before my train of thought hits home, you go in for the kill, casually, not wavering from the consistency of your mannerisms.
I know the father of her child….
A door slams in my face and my appetite has left the building.
Was I another bridge you built to burn?