asato_muraki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asato_muraki) wrote2008-11-25 11:37 am
asato_muraki) wrote2008-11-25 11:37 am
From the Mnemosine Files: My Name Isn't Wendy
I was preparing to pack this morning, and while handling one of the suitcases, I had the oddest flash of memory.
The tan bag I usually put the boy's clothes in (yes, I make then share a suitcase, oh, the humanity, but they have separate drawers at Papa's house) has a monogram of my husband's initials. He got it for Christmas when we were in college, from one of his uncles.
He had loaned it to me to use on a couple of occasions before we married, and I know I used it afterward. I used to travel quite a bit, with him and on my own.
I remember being on one of those buses that drives you out to the wee little commuter planes I used to affectionately call "Winnebagos with wings." There was a very handsome man across from me, engaging me in conversation. Where I was going, whom I was going to see, etc. On this occasion I was going to see my Beloved, and I was plain about that, so the fellow wouldn't get the wrong idea. I'm chatty and I smile a lot, which tends to give people the impression that I'm into them. Usually I am into them, just not like that. I like chatting. This effect was much more pronounced when I was younger and hotter.
After a bit we stopped talking, and I started checking my boarding pass and itinerary, etc.
"So, what is it? Wendy?"
I looked up and he was giving me this appraising look. I had no freaking clue what he was talking about, and it must have shown on my face.
"Your name." He gestured at the monogram. "Is it Wendy?"
"No. I borrowed this bag from my finance. His first name is William."
"But you called him R__."
Had I mentioned his name? Probably. (His name is actually William R__ but he goes by R__, which is what I call him.) Here is where I got a little nervous. I mean, the attitude, like I was lying about my name, or about my fiancé, or about having a fiancé in the first place. Like he thought I was making it up because I didn't trust him.
It seemed like an odd conclusion to jump to, and THAT was when I stopped trusting him. His regard was a little too direct, or maybe I just decided that he'd been paying too much attention. I don't know. My Spidey Sense was tingling.
"He's named after his father, so they use his middle name to avoid confusion." That was a lie. He and his father both use their middle names, for whatever reason, but it wasn't any of his damned business.
There's no real point to that story, other than people are strange sometimes. Maybe he was just playing Sherlock Holmes to pass the time. Maybe he saw a 21 year old girl (who looked much younger than that, really) traveling alone and saw an opportunity to be charming and impressive. I don't know.
I do know that I've handled the monogrammed bag a thousand times or more since then, but today, for some reason, I thought of the aggressively handsome man who was offended when my name wasn't Wendy.
Some days it's thrill ride, just being inside my head.
***
To those on flist whose fiction I have fallen behind on reading-- I've nipped your recent work and hope to catch up while I'm away from the internet. I hope I haven't' missed anybody.
Catch you on the flip side!
The tan bag I usually put the boy's clothes in (yes, I make then share a suitcase, oh, the humanity, but they have separate drawers at Papa's house) has a monogram of my husband's initials. He got it for Christmas when we were in college, from one of his uncles.
He had loaned it to me to use on a couple of occasions before we married, and I know I used it afterward. I used to travel quite a bit, with him and on my own.
I remember being on one of those buses that drives you out to the wee little commuter planes I used to affectionately call "Winnebagos with wings." There was a very handsome man across from me, engaging me in conversation. Where I was going, whom I was going to see, etc. On this occasion I was going to see my Beloved, and I was plain about that, so the fellow wouldn't get the wrong idea. I'm chatty and I smile a lot, which tends to give people the impression that I'm into them. Usually I am into them, just not like that. I like chatting. This effect was much more pronounced when I was younger and hotter.
After a bit we stopped talking, and I started checking my boarding pass and itinerary, etc.
"So, what is it? Wendy?"
I looked up and he was giving me this appraising look. I had no freaking clue what he was talking about, and it must have shown on my face.
"Your name." He gestured at the monogram. "Is it Wendy?"
"No. I borrowed this bag from my finance. His first name is William."
"But you called him R__."
Had I mentioned his name? Probably. (His name is actually William R__ but he goes by R__, which is what I call him.) Here is where I got a little nervous. I mean, the attitude, like I was lying about my name, or about my fiancé, or about having a fiancé in the first place. Like he thought I was making it up because I didn't trust him.
It seemed like an odd conclusion to jump to, and THAT was when I stopped trusting him. His regard was a little too direct, or maybe I just decided that he'd been paying too much attention. I don't know. My Spidey Sense was tingling.
"He's named after his father, so they use his middle name to avoid confusion." That was a lie. He and his father both use their middle names, for whatever reason, but it wasn't any of his damned business.
There's no real point to that story, other than people are strange sometimes. Maybe he was just playing Sherlock Holmes to pass the time. Maybe he saw a 21 year old girl (who looked much younger than that, really) traveling alone and saw an opportunity to be charming and impressive. I don't know.
I do know that I've handled the monogrammed bag a thousand times or more since then, but today, for some reason, I thought of the aggressively handsome man who was offended when my name wasn't Wendy.
Some days it's thrill ride, just being inside my head.
***
To those on flist whose fiction I have fallen behind on reading-- I've nipped your recent work and hope to catch up while I'm away from the internet. I hope I haven't' missed anybody.
Catch you on the flip side!
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Safe trip!
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Did you catch up with the other story too? People seem to be liking it. I'm muchly pleased :o)
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Have a good holiday!
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The Wendy guy sounds creepy. He probably wanted to chat you up.
Have fun!
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He was only creepy upon reflection. But, yeah.