Category: Passages

In my mid-forties
a woman in her mid 20’s
offered $15,000.
Or rather to raise my credit the same amount
thought $5,000 not enough,
that $20,000 would be more useful.
“ You never know when you might see something you want.”
– A new car?
– First class flight to London?
– Deposit on a Rembrandt?
Thanks so much I’m happy how it is.

The missing transaction is located – the bank’s error
apologies and wide, white smile
business complete, leave taking commences
“ I could raise it to $25,000 if you would prefer.”

Then, in my mid 20’s I sat waiting
waiting to be brought to the Loans Approval Officer –
a woman in her mid-forties.
After presenting the request, I am frisked with a frown
she wonders why the appointment was made –
it’s not policy to offer mortgages to applicants such as me.
But,
my income is good and career stable –
a highly regarded employer in a reliable sector.
– Yes, but gender and marital status – young and single
they require caution,
the bank has to be responsible,
 “ we can’t just throw money around.”

Voice almost as distinctive as fingerprints
an identifier and confirmer.
Her hair was still dark
improbably monotone for the years
the glasses may have been real, or fashion accessory
imagination imagined, adding fullness for the years
subtracting the spectacles.
It might be her
then voice, overheard in the lobby
eliminated all doubt.
Matching rings on marital fingers, standing together –
quietly with affection.
I remember working together I thought her a junior,
trying to be senior,
tame wanting to be an adventurer –
a medium personality counterfeiting XXS,
someone constantly straining to be something she wasn’t.

She collected the tickets, they left
outside away from the lights they crossed the street, arm in arm
two middle-aged women content, and happy.
No masquerade. No pretence.

Once when young, when
boys still thought girls silly
to be avoided or teased
and boys who like the company of girls thought sissy
or worse.
Nothing could be worse
except a few months later
when everybody still remembered and
everything had changed
when boy and boy, was far worse than girl and boy.

Then they teased us about the time we rode home double
me peddling, him on the rack – clutching me.
Razzing declined to add there was nothing
for him to hold on
or the school bus had failed to show up.

It was an awkward memory for both
for the rest of schooldays.
My pillion hitchhiker – hugger they said
died young,
before he turned 21.
The teasing had stopped by then
but on the afternoon he was lowered into the earth
I would have gladly swapped the shock and sorrow
for of lifetime of ribbing.