The Park Bench {on hold}

jubilance

jubilance (n) an expression of great joy and satisfaction

The park is bustling with people around 5:30  in the evening. The weather has chilled to a slight breeze, yet the ground is still warm from the intense heat of the afternoon. Children play on the play sets, chasing each other, while various guardians lounge on the luscious green grass.

Among these caretakers lay Chrystie and Hilda, who sit cross-legged as they recall the events of their week.

Chrystie sits across from Hilda, with a maroon travel mug of Chamomile green tea warming the palms of her hands. Sipping her tea, she listens to the blue-haired teenager.

"Yeah, and so Janice--the daughter of the store owner's sister-ended up having to drop me off at home. It was so embarrassing!"

"Mhmm."

"The worst thing is that falling asleep on the bus wasn't even the worst things that happened to me at school this week."

"Why? What happened?" inquires Chrystie with concern.

"Well, I was in PE. See, most students take PE for only two years, but due to my freaking bones, the doctors have made it mandatory all four years."

"I don't understand. Shouldn't the doctors have shortened your physical activity?"

"They did...sorta. I take a special class. Basically, I take PE with regular classmates, so as not to ostracize myself. They've hired a special assistant for me during PE, like I was some sort of mentally-challenged kid."

Chrystie looks at Hilda sharply, "Is that how you see it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The school has gone through extra cautions to make sure you don't harm yourself, and you see this as an insult?"

"Well yeah! It's hurtful that they think I can't take care of myself."

"Can you?"

"Yes, I can. I take care of myself all the time, and I don't need a babysitter."

"I agree. You're old enough and mature enough. All I'm pointing out is the assumptions you are making based on their actions may not necessarily match up with their intentions."

Hilda looks abashed and turns away. "Sorry," she grumbles.

Chrystie shakes her head, "Darling, I'm not asking you to apologize. I'm hoping you'll just see certain things in a different light."

"I do. Goal accomplished," says Hilda with a slight laugh. She treasures her relationship with Chrystie. Hilda loves being able to spend time with Chrystie and learn more about the confident poised woman. The lady has such thorough insight about the world, which she accredits to her travels, but Hilda has a feeling Chrystie was always this wise.

The two girls let their conversation subside and their gazes wander around the park.

Chrystie glances around the park, settling on a sleeping man under the lollipop tree. His head tilts back and his mouth is cracked open. Chrystie nods at Hilda, as the teenager struggles up to go play with Ronaldo.

The help Chrystie offers is declined because Hilda loves the feeling of accomplishment of getting up after sitting on the ground

Within moments, the older lady also gets up and walks towards the park bench. She squishes herself into the spot next to the sleeper.

Just as she gets comfortable, the stranger's eyes crack open. In his sleepy daze, he cannot place where he had seen the white-haired woman. She opens her mouth and says, "Good evening." The man immediately laughs out loud.

His jubilance is contagious, and she joins in. The pair are a sight to see as they laugh with each other. Even after the laughter  subsides, the atmosphere has changed.

They feel an air of comfort around them, which is what leads the man to say, "So Miss Costa Rica, am I allowed to know your real name?"

She looks at him sweetly and replies, "Depends."

"On what?"

"Well, are you crazy?"

"Sometimes, why do you ask?"

"You're taking a nap on an old park bench in an expensive suit."

"And that makes me crazy?"

"Well of course! Your suit is going to get dirty with all the leaves and sap that fall from the lollipop tree!"

He glances up at the tree with a smile, "Did you just call this a lollipop tree?"

"Mayyybe," she pulls out.

He shakes his head, " What is it with you and vague answers?"

"I could ask you the same thing. What is it with you and specific questions?" she counters.

He leans closer, saying slowly, "The more specific questions, the more I get to know about you."

Then, he returns to his original position.

Not quite knowing how to respond, Chrystie stays quiet. They both stay quiet and silently sit on the park bench.

____

Late. I know. I'm not sure how much I like this chapter.

-parisa

(784 words)