I was keeping an eye on red sweatshirt. I noticed she was talking to our instructor and gesticulating animatedly vaguely in my direction. Now I don't know what they were talking about, but I had an idea. I stood as if rooted in place as I imagined her telling everyone who would listen about the lady with the dirty, disgusting hands who said she was a nurse, but can't be or she would have known to wash her hands. I imagined our instructor gazing around nervously trying to spot the crazed woman with e coli dripping from her fingertips. By this time I was sure they were talking about me.
I was hot and tired and mentally couldn't take another minute of being humiliated in public, even if it was only in my mind. The damage was done. That crazy old lady had defeated me. I gathered the rest of my tired little dried out plants, popped them unceremoniously in their new plant condo and headed back through the glass doors to grab my stuff and get out of there.
The classroom was empty and in semi-darkness. As I reached to pick up my notebook and pen, I noticed my seatmate had left her notebook on the table, with her arboretum pen sitting perfectly centered in the middle. I glanced out to the patio and saw her still talking to the instructor and laughing. I smiled to myself as I un-clicked my arboretum pen and gently sat it next to hers on her notebook and left.
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The Arboretum
Non-FictionA true story of the insane thing that happened to me when I stepped out of my comfort zone and signed up for an adult ed class at a local arboretum.
