Rolling into work around eleven today--yes, I have slipped back into the 11 AM-1 AM rut, but I have a big project--I was stopped by a slender, dark-haired woman with lively dark eyes who was trying to corral three little children. We have a keycard-protected building and she hoped I could help her get up to her husband's floor to surprise him. I know him, he is a smart and decent guy, but having met his wife and children I cannot honestly say I feel like he deserves them. That is the sound of commandments breaking, all right, but at least I do not care about his ass. Not only is his wife beautiful and charming, but his oldest daughter, a 4 year old, delivered a delightfully serious and very well enunciated speech about how they needed help to surprise him. Even his 2 year old daughter can speak clearly. I have a low covetousness quotient, but a beautiful wife and intelligent, serious children ring the bell and win the kewpie doll or cigar, their choice.
Of course I took them up to see him, and besides waving my keycard at the lock pads, all I did was listen to the oldest girl's speech, and reply as earnestly as I could given how funny she was and make sure the 2 year old got through the revolving door successfully. Even so, in the elevator the mother gave me this sort of piercing or shrewd look and asked if I had children. As so often with me there was that heart-stopping instant when I was not sure whether I would produce an answer that was true but not embarrassing, or simply blurt out the embarrassing truth. I said only "no," which is a success compared to what I just barely kept from adding, "that is the worst thing about my divorce," but still pretty awkward. Then she said, which was so sweet, all the more so for not I think being meant as a compliment, "It's just you're so good with children." I gather childless men are weird around kids. Fortunately my wits had caught up with the situation so I was able to pass it off with the true, relevant, and unembarrassing explanation that I was the oldest of four children, and then the elevator ride was over. What a sweet compliment; if only there were some bank where I could invest it to grow in time into a family.
Horsemen v. Fisherman
14 years ago
1 comment:
"I said only "no," which is a success compared to what I just barely kept from adding, "that is the worst thing about my divorce," but still pretty graceless."
How is that graceless? She asked you a question which you answered. The only ways it would be graceless would be if you'd shouted it at her, or rolled your eyes and said "no" like a teenager says everything.
Also: you've been caught being good with children. You may have to accept that there may not be a way where her compliment redounds to your shame.
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