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JOYCE CAROL OATES
made?) possibly bought on your trip to London last spring? ) , carry–
ing that same briefcase, which I imagine is stuffed with material you
are working on. Your hair was damp (from a shower? - I try to
visualize you doing such ordinary, mundane things!) and you wore
sunglasses with wide black frames. Are they prescription lenses? I
noticed at the Academy that you wore blue-tinted glasses, though it
was evening. I wear glasses myself; my eyes are fairly good, even after
years of abusing them through overwork, but occasionally my left
eyeball seems to tug, the muscles pull oddly. No pain, but it's a fright–
ening sensation.
3. Friday.
11:
30 A.M. Again, descending the steps quickly
(there are twelve steps, an even dozen), as if you were late for an
appointment. I was waiting out on the sidewalk, unobtrusively and
patiently. I had been imagining you for some time - seeing your
image there, approaching the glass doors of your building -how
dis–
appointed I was when other men appeared, middle-aged, ugly, with–
out your special radiance! Then at eleven-thirty yuu finally appeared,
hurrying, in a dark green corduroy jacket, a yellow and white striped
shirt and an elegant dotted tie, passing so close to me that the dots
of your necktie danced in my eyes, making me dizzy. I could smell
your shaving lotion, we were so close!
It
was fresh, the odor of trees
and meadows. Your trousers were dark brown, your shoe-boots dark
leather, ah, what grace even in the way you hurried, saying good
morning to the doorman (a very fine old man, whom I've chatted
with) and glancing at me, almost smiling, I think, though you were
obviously late for wherever you were going and I was a total stranger
to you. Yet - did you recognize something in my face? - my expres–
sion? I was stunned at our sudden closeness though I had been wait–
ing for two hours, somehow it all happened so quickly - you came
and went so quickly. I stood there like a fool, unable to speak. After
you had gotten in the cab I came awake and wanted to lean in the
window and say, "Mr. Lurie - may I share this taxi with you?"
Would you have minded? What would you have said?
I walked 25 blocks home.
Disgusted at my own meekness, my fear. Back to my non- door–
man- manned dump, climbed up to the fifth floor, let myself in, stood
in my tiny bathroom for half an hour, staring at my face - Why?
Why? Some are born to beauty and power (like you - even your
