Wednesday, January 25, 2006
The first time I saw Bethany Lowe was through glass.
Sometime late in my last semester of college, I had this creative writing class. She had the same class, same TA. But she was in a different section. Tuesdays, I think. My group met Wednesdays.
Anyway.
What I remember was it was right before our final revision of our final piece that we had been working on for most of the semester and I was going to visit Bob, the TA. I wound my way through the long halls leading from building to building on campus and eventually arrived at Bob's office. Not his specifically, rather a collective office for all the TA's. Alongside the door ran a tall and thin pane of glass with that chicken-wire stuff running through it. Through the glass and chicken-wire I saw Bethany straightening her shirt and smoothing her hair in some mirror I could not see.
Suddenly, she turned as if she had been called out to. I saw her mouth "what" and then whiz around to look out the chicken-wire by the door. We made that awkward momentary eye contact thing and, to break it, I reached for the door handle. Before I could open it, Bethany was slinking out of the office.
"Hey," she said so casually.
"Umm...hi. I'm just here to..."
"Meet with Bob? Yeah. He's cancelled his office hours for the afternoon."
"Really? But I..."
"Yes, I was just here to meet with him as well. Working on your final?"
"Yeah...," trails off from my mouth as I notice Bob darting past the glass, wiping something from the crotch of his pants. Bethany notices me noticing him and casually slides in front of the chicken-wire glass.
"Well, I'd love to look at it. Wanna get out of here?" Standing there in her too-short hipster pants, her wide bright eyes peered out at me from behind sharp black bangs.
"Umm...sure. Where do..."
"My place?" She shifted her books from front to side, revealing the sliver of skin between the bottom of her torn tank-top and the waistline of her pants.
"Ok."
And we left. ¶ 11:16 AM
Sometime late in my last semester of college, I had this creative writing class. She had the same class, same TA. But she was in a different section. Tuesdays, I think. My group met Wednesdays.
Anyway.
What I remember was it was right before our final revision of our final piece that we had been working on for most of the semester and I was going to visit Bob, the TA. I wound my way through the long halls leading from building to building on campus and eventually arrived at Bob's office. Not his specifically, rather a collective office for all the TA's. Alongside the door ran a tall and thin pane of glass with that chicken-wire stuff running through it. Through the glass and chicken-wire I saw Bethany straightening her shirt and smoothing her hair in some mirror I could not see.
Suddenly, she turned as if she had been called out to. I saw her mouth "what" and then whiz around to look out the chicken-wire by the door. We made that awkward momentary eye contact thing and, to break it, I reached for the door handle. Before I could open it, Bethany was slinking out of the office.
"Hey," she said so casually.
"Umm...hi. I'm just here to..."
"Meet with Bob? Yeah. He's cancelled his office hours for the afternoon."
"Really? But I..."
"Yes, I was just here to meet with him as well. Working on your final?"
"Yeah...," trails off from my mouth as I notice Bob darting past the glass, wiping something from the crotch of his pants. Bethany notices me noticing him and casually slides in front of the chicken-wire glass.
"Well, I'd love to look at it. Wanna get out of here?" Standing there in her too-short hipster pants, her wide bright eyes peered out at me from behind sharp black bangs.
"Umm...sure. Where do..."
"My place?" She shifted her books from front to side, revealing the sliver of skin between the bottom of her torn tank-top and the waistline of her pants.
"Ok."
And we left. ¶ 11:16 AM
