Not knowing what to say has
been my default operating profile since Sister Thorette washed my mouth out
with flax soap repeatedly for days on end. There’s a picture of me from that
time dressed maybe for church. I have on a checkered vest and bow tie. I’m
wearing a pained expression and glasses crooked on my face. Later, sometime in public
grade school, on a dare, Nancy Bishop sat next to me in the Ritz Movie Theater. She
had been sitting several rows in front of me with other girls from class
twittering and looking back and then she got up and came back and sat with me.
She told me why she sat there so I shouldn’t think she liked me or anything.
She was one of the acknowledged cute girls, small and thin with straight hair.
I remember understanding the girls in front thought it was all a great joke and
I could tell Nancy felt bad about it. I remember being curious, fascinated by
the social phenomena of it. I felt bad for Nancy’s uncomforable fidgeting. I think
we held hands as part of the dare. She sat there for a while and then went back
with the other girls. I don’t know that we were friends after that, but we said
hi and she never played any more tricks on me.
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