I knew she was going to ask
she talked incessantly, I nodded absently
both of us waiting for the bus
too late at night, too dark
men yelling at each other across the street because god knows why
or doesn’t
she says they have anger management problems
what a sad world, we should call the police
and I know police won’t care or won’t come
or at least just make it worse
and I also know in that moment she is going to ask me
“Have you been blind all your life?”
The seven most invasive words from a stranger
the words I dread
the words I hope to avoid if I just don’t talk to people
even though I want to talk
they might say them, so I don’t
This time I have steeled myself, I am ready, I wish I didn’t have to be ready
“I’d rather not answer that question.”
Six words I can only hope will work.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Thank you.”
Hopefully we are done with this.
But no.
“I just know that some people have an accident and some people are born like that.”
“Yup.”
Does she think her incredible knowledge will open me up?
Does she even think of me?
Is there any place in my Midwest Polite where I could tell her that being born “like that” is better than being born unable to take a hint?
Also leave me alone
Also don’t ask any other person you don’t know something like that ever.
Also it is so none of your business and I owe you nothing just because you think you’re being nice to me.
No. There is probably no place for any of that.
Small triumph that I told her no
small triumph that I didn’t feel a need to reassure her with
“I was born like that. Don’t worry, it probably won’t happen to you.”

One thought on “The Question

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