29) "Love"

Ignoring May was difficult. It was not so at first. The embarrassment of her rejection and my tears in front of her were a sufficient barrier to contact with her. But if there is something for which to be grateful of my monkeyness, it is its relative lack of pride. I have enough pride to care and to be self-conscious, but not so much, apparently, to entirely blind me to its selfishness. I can hurt, but I can decide not to. Neil can not do that. Ignoring May was easy that first week after the embarrassment: I did not look at her, and my peripheral vision allowed me to avoid her approach without acknowledgment. Another sense altogether prevented accidental encounters in the stacks and hallways.

But many things conspired and conjoined to discontinue this exercise, only the first of which was the exhaustion of my pride. Neil was right: May would help me. The week following our talk, May attempted to engage me in small talk several times but besides never knowing what to say, I could not even look at her. At first, I grunted a reply; then I simply ignored her. My conscience hated me for that. Though I still did not know what to say to her, by the end of the week I was no longer actively avoiding her. May, however, was now actively ignoring me. Upon her approaches I would look at her directly and attempt a smile, but beams of black ice shot straight through me from her eyes, and my smile and my puny soul were frozen. Had my pride been intact I might not have been able to snatch an escaping gasp. Still, I was hurt, but hurt by the mirror May held up between us. This is what I had been doing to her. I had pride enough left to be ashamed, but not enough to prevent me from doing what I thought was right for both of us.

Neil was already plunged into his own pity when I told him at lunch. "You're doing the right thing," he said. "If it works for you, maybe--no. Even if I could set my pride aside--even if I could believe I no longer felt anything for May--I couldn't believe it for long. If she even smiled at me now...." He turned his head slowly, scanning the foreground. A bird above us loosed a rapid twitter. "Nuthatch," Neil said. "Go ahead and laugh." I do not think he was talking to me. "God, if she even looked at me without looking through me, I'd fall in love with her all over again."

"What would be wrong with that?" i asked, though I felt at the same time that it was unnecessary.

"One torture or another, I guess. Better the one without hope." He looked at me. "You are doing the right thing, but why are you doing it? What can you possibly gain?"

"Gain?"

Neil laughed harshly. "And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen! Man trumped once again by a lower intelligence and a higher consciousness!" His shoulders slumped. On the way back into work Neil moved his car to within a few spaces past May's from the building.

On the way out that evening I walked with Neil close behind May. She was stooped with a large canvas bag in each hand, a bent elbow keeping them inches from the asphalt. Her purse was canvas, too, and seemed about to slide from her left shoulder. Her hair fell evenly to either side of her neck. As we reached May's car Neil continued to his car--May glanced up at him; he didn't notice--and I stopped behind May.

"Hey, Beamer! You don't wanna miss your bus!"

I came, then, as close as I had ever come to understanding whay people curse when May, having just set down her burden, swivelled to the voice so close. I didn't turn; I knew it was Hunter. My conscience and my attention toward May let me ignore him. Neil's car pulled away. May's sight caught Hunter first, and her brow bunched in puzzlement. Then her head dipped. "Oh!" she gasped upon seeing me, and a shudder staggered her. Hunter's bark echoed off the library and over the lot. May's glare silenced him.

I was frightened, too, as she continued to silently direct him. Her head tipped sharply and back. her eyes did not move, then bulged violently following her jutting jaw, and her head tipped again, but with a jerk. Behind me an engine roared and tires squealed. May followed the car a moment and watched, warily, another car I could hear leaving.

"We are going to talk," I said, though not feeling as bold as my words.

May looked down at me, her eyes still agape. I stifled a swallow.

Her "Oh?" bit me as a challenge. Hair had fallen across her left eye. She turned her back to me and opened the rear side door of her car.

"Yes."

May knelt to gather the handles of the bags of books and clothes. She said nothing as she squeezed the bags beside one another behind the driver's seat with deliberation, prodding their bulges and tugging on their creases. As I watched, my confidence grew; she was avoiding me. I had done as I had meant to--catch her off her guard--and here she struggled for a plan, but I would have to strike again quickly to keep her on the edge of spontaneity.

"Do not ignore me anymore. It hurts."

May stood straight but did not yet turn. She closed the car door carefully, as had our supervisor after I had entered her office to be told about my blog. "I'm sorry," she said, and turned. She had put on a smile.

"I do not mean now," I said, and her smile faded. "It hurts me when you pretend not to notice me."

"What did you think you were doing to me?"

"I did not think you could care, since you could not care for me."

"But I do care for you--I like you," she seemed to correct herself.

"I know you do not love me, but please do not be afraid of me. I can not ignore you. I must look at you. Perhaps I love you. How can that matter to you if you do not love me?"

I heard my bus pass behind me and watched May watch it go.

"I know my bus is gone," I said. "You will not need to take me home. I will not cry tonight." May looked at me, eyes wide but soft. I was suddenly unsure of my forecast. She could have let my question scatter and dissipate in the bus' wake, but I knew her hesitation was only confusion.

May said, "I don't know. It's--it's nice to know how you feel about me. But Neil and Hunter, too.... Is it that easy?"--

"It is too easy--with you."

"But, you don't know me."

"Could I not still love you if I did?"

"Please--'love'." She sighed heavily.

I let May take me home. I'm sure Neil saw us drive off.