Lizzy

 

 

Many years ago, I befriended a woman. To be accurate, she actually befriended me when I showed up without any ties to family or friends. Because I feel that it is wrong to brashly point out people publicly, I'm giving this woman the name, Lizzy, Lizzy Falk. Besides, I don’t want her coming after me.

Lizzy didn’t always have the last name of Falk. She started her life out with the last name of Riley. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this right now, but there it is for you to file for a possible later date.

Lizzy wasn’t a beautiful woman. Nor was she ugly either. Her dark auburn hair was unduly curly without being kinky. The entire time I’ve known her, I don’t remember seeing her in a dress except for one time. Her normal attire was a man’s t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers.

The first time I met her, she was sitting at the picnic table on the back deck of a relative’s house. Like me, she was an in-law, but I got the immediate feeling that she considered herself a cut above these relatives despite her unrefined behavior. Lazily, she took a drag off the cigarette squeezed between her first and second fingers and stared at me.

What else was there to do but take the initiative. “Mind if I join you?”

She gestured towards the other side of the table before taking another puff of her cigarette. I brought out my own cigarettes, and after getting comfortable on the bench, lit one up.

Perhaps I had read her wrong that day. I have a tendency to assume people are going to like me, if only just a little, enough so that we can get along during a conversation. Lizzy appeared to be self-confident, but reserved, almost to the point of being secretive. About what, I couldn’t even guess. At the time, I thought she was just overly shy because of the circumstances and had put on a front of boldness.

(to be continued)