That Girl in the Library

I was at the library today, planning a bridal shower with a friend, when an old man interrupted our conversation. He said, "Excuse me, but I've been listening to you for quite some time now, and it sounds like you were talking about the universe. It sounded interesting. But, I couldn't hear everything that you were saying."

I smiled and said, "Oh no sir. Nothing as exciting as the universe. Just a wedding shower."

Thinking we were done, I began to turn away, and heard him say, "Now, I've been wondering about that. It seems to me that there is only one reason we are in weddings -- It is so we know we have friends."

I shifted in my chair so I could square off with him and I looked in his eyes as he talked. He was lonely. From his sunken eyes to his stutter, he was all alone. He mused about the money we spend to prove we have friends. That maybe the bride should pay for everything. Better yet, we should all come as we are to show acknowledgment. But, we should wait to celebrate until a couple reaches 20 years. He rambled on topic for a bit before saying he could be wrong and asked me if I agreed. I said if it were me, I would have a celebration of the joining of two families and focus on the marriage, not the wedding.

He got an eerie all-knowing look in his smile and proceeded to tell me about my life. How someday soon I'll fall in love and have an outlandish wedding. How on holidays I'll stop by my side of the family quickly on the way to my in-laws. Because the in-laws will be the 'correct' side of the family. How my parents will ask why I don't come over and I'll be too nice to tell them the truth--that though they raised me, they're a bunch of jerks. He said that all that won't be important though, because I don't know the answer to the most important thing in life. I don't know where I'm going when I leave... The library had to close and flustered, he stood, adjusted his cap and walked out.

And, I didn't bother to tell him that in telling me who I am, he forgot to ask me. I didn't tell him that when he put me into a hole, he put me in the wrong hole. But I don't think that was really important today. Because, as he goes home to an empty house, and has his ritual nightcap, I like to think that he'll go to bed a little less lonely. Because he knows a sweet, naive girl from the library.

Contributed by Catie.