Turn, Amaryllis, to thy swain…Alex Van Buren sang the old part-song under his breath. Prancing a coltish crow-hop at the start of each phrase, he seemed a tall, fledgling golden palomino; simultaneously graceful and awkward, with a pale mane of healthy hair and promise of strength to come. Casual observers noticed and smiled. Balmy weather for January wrapped him in spring fever; and a cobalt blue sky overhead with no clouds to soften the cerulean intensity, made him feel life all the more. But he knew the strength in his legs and bounce in his step had more to do with the anticipation of seeing his own sweet, joyful Millie soon, rather than the temperature. Yes, Millie; whose love gave him the explosive power to walk on air.
“Where are you going? And why so cheery?” Bill called out coming up behind Alex. Bill’s small, stocky frame supported a stack of newspapers extending from hip to chin. Both arms swayed; their hammock transport system strained by the unwieldy weight. He staggered like a drunken sailor to get in front of Alex and face him.
“I’m off for a coffee to do some people-watching on the deck of the café.” Alex put his hand on Bill’s head and steadied him at arms’ length. “Want to come? I’m trying out two new songs for the glee club afterwards and could use your voice for the parts.”
“Unhand me, Sir, and then maybe I’ll consider it.” Bill grinned back up at Alex from his restricted outlook behind the turret of periodicals.
“Aren’t those newspapers supposed to stay at the library?” Alex slipped his hand off Bill’s head and rested it on his shoulder, helping to steady the foundation for the leaning tower of papers as it moved toward the classrooms.
“Yes, unless you’re the new editor of the university review, which I am!” Bill groaned from behind the stack. “And you would know that if you ever read any campus papers yourself.” He peered over the stack to gauge his friend’s reaction to the news of his new job.
“How did that happen? Did you get straight A’s again on your exams?”
“As a matter of fact…”
“Don’t tell me.”
“Okay, I won’t; but I did, and I don’t understand why you never read a newspaper, Alex. Have you no curiosity about the world around you?”
“I call it a craving for gossip, not curiosity,” Alex countered. “And why should I waste my time reading all that gloom and doom, when a half hour watching people will tell me anything about life I need to know?”
“Okay, be obtuse. But you’ll miss all sorts of important happenings in your own community and around the world, buddy.”
Alex held the door of the café open for Bill to stagger through with his load. Other students came careening out with books and jokes, somehow just missing him at the last second. Alex paused, hailing the students by name and briefly asking how vacations had gone. His unusual height and blond good-looks always made him a lightning rod for attention, and the stunning smile and shining eyes he wore today as he chatted with the undergrads made each one feel singled out for something special.
Alex settled in at a table upstairs on the porch, putting both cups of coffee down in front of him, as Bill had already spread the stack of papers out like a hand of giant playing cards. They took up most of the space, and he was mumbling to himself: literature and fine arts, sports, science…as he fanned them apart. …and truly I don’t understand you, he continued without looking up or changing his tone of voice.
“Why is that?” Alex asked, leaning out over the porch rail to see a couple coming around the corner down the street leading to the café.
“Because you’ll never learn anything if you don’t read newspapers,” Bill said, finally looking up at Alex with a mix of disdain and pity on his face.
“I disagree, Billy. People-watching is a great way to find out what’s going on around you. Take that couple who just came into view,” Alex went on. “You can tell if you stay with them for a bit that he’s bored and maybe a little mad, but she’s totally wrapped up in him. There’s a world of information just in their body language, and when they get closer we’ll learn even more.
“I’m talking about real news,” Bill said in disgust.
“But human beings are real news, Bill. And I don’t like having someone else choose what’s important for me read. People-watching takes out the middle-man. Oh darn, now we’ve missed that couple. That’s like an unfinished chapter in a book.”
“Maybe they’ll come upstairs,” Bill said. “I saw them open the cafe door. But I’ll take the English language over body language any time.” He went back to reading the paper closest to him before pulling another one on top and scanning it too. “Here they come, your uncooperative couple,” he announced, glancing up at the top of the stairs. Alex sat with his back to the entry, so he waited for the couple to come closer and move to a table where he’d have a better line of sight. Finally he could see a little of their profiles as they moved across the porch to his left.
The man came up first. Tall, dark, and every inch entitled to something. He turned toward the back of the porch so he and his female companion would be surrounded by empty tables. Did he want privacy to finish his argument? Did he want time alone to deal with the frustration he showed, or was he just born with that look of bored resistance? The girl let an enforced passivity slide from the slope of her shoulders. Her face wasn’t visible yet. Why were those shoulders so familiar? Who walks like that? Dependent people; people without hope or self-respect. Alex wondered what had shaken her faith. He waited for her to come around the table at the end of the porch so he could see her better.
“Alex, look!” Bill hissed under his breath as he leaned forward. He was still facing the entrance to the staircase while Alex hadn’t turned around fully. “Isn’t that Millie? Your Millie?”
Alex didn’t have to look. Those shoulders were familiar alright. Perhaps neither their slope, nor the halting moves of her body struck familiar notes, but the basic structure was hers. How could he have missed that even from a distance? Because it wasn’t her walk; at least, not when she was with him. Alex pushed himself back from the table and stood up very slowly. He looked as if every inch he gained as he rose was painfully acquired.
“Where are you going?” Bill asked.
“Away,” Alex said, dragging his body toward the stairs as if the air was too heavy to bear. Bill saw him pause at the top of the flight like an arthritic athlete, unsure of his knees and needing to collect himself from a dizzy spell before ascending. He started down slowly, and Bill watched him go out the front door under the porch and move across the street. Casual observers thought him an elderly man, long crushed by the vagaries of life.
What an eloquent, expressive language people-watching has. But you can’t just close the paper and forget it.
By Sidney S. Stark