Every Wednesday is a long writing day for me. I like to go to this family-owned coffee shop, where the refills are cheap, and they serve chicken wraps for lunch. Sometimes I stay in the same chair for twelve hours, with a few stretch and snack breaks. I feel pitiful and accomplished at the same time when that happens. Shannon will open the door for me at 5:30 AM and say goodbye to me when her shift ends in the afternoon. I am still there writing.
I overhear bits of a lot of conversations as people come and go in the chairs around me. If you don’t want someone to eavesdrop on your conversation, don’t sit by a person who looks like a writer. Sit by someone making a PowerPoint or scrolling on Facebook. If you see someone with Word open on their screen, find another seat fast. Writers eavesdrop. We can’t help it. It is our interest in the constructs of natural dialogue that makes us unintentional eavesdroppers. We don’t mean to be rude. We are sort of social scientists. That is what I tell myself.
Anyway, it is a rare day–a rare day–when I hear a real conversation. Mostly I notice two kinds. The first kind of “interaction” goes like this: One person will talk without stopping for more than an hour while the listener friend just hums agreement or understanding. And never says a word. When it is time to go, the talker friend will say, “Oh no! I didn’t let you talk! Next time, YOU do all the talking!” But I will be here when they come back next time, and the same thing will happen. The listener friend will never have a chance to speak. Ever. I don’t want to be that kind of talker friend, but sometimes I think I am. I want to be a sharer friend instead.
The other kind of “interaction” goes like this: Two people are on devices. There is no talking. You would think this is the habit of very young people, but usually it’s not. Ok, maybe this is what happens with old, happy, comfortable love. I know that is what someone is going to tell me. Maybe there is no need for words with a relationship so established. Maybe the couple talks all the time and this is their one break to enjoy the silence. It is none of my business. They can do whatever they want.
But I think when I am 98 I am still going to want my husband to look at my face when we drink coffee. I hope that’s not too much to ask.