Following a long yoga class, she headed home after rejecting a date with Eric, a man in her class who wore his grandfather's hat (frankly, she was not ready to be dating). When she got home she took a long, quiet bath and thought about her class, her small home, and her life. She liked being alone, or accepted it, and didn't mind curling up on her couch with a cup (of something), her pet and a book.
"she was consumed by 3 simple things:
drink, despair, loneliness; and 2 more:
youth and beauty." -Bukowski.
G-, N-, and I --as spying giants-- hunched over her with bare knees digging into the carpet. There she was, stiff and vacant and we decided that we envied Maggie. I imagined her to be reading Chagall's "My Life." G-probably thought that she was reading "The Bad Beginning." N- just appreciated the fact that Maggie's cat was not trying to bite her, as Hyacinth (N-'s cat) does.
When Eric came to her door to ask once again for a date, she gave another kind decline. G- decided that he ought to bring her flowers because that would be romantic. Yes, I agreed it would.
"It would, wouldn't it?" I smiled and G- said, "you never know Marie, that might happen to you one day."
"Well, let's hope so. Not yet."
As for now, I have all of the above-- void the cat.
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