Day and Night

And from the start, things were different. Little things. Big things. Things that made me go hhhmm.

Like the time J. and I were hiking and I stepped in some rude defiantly non-curbing person's dog's shit, and J. found me a place to sit, removed my shoe, and then took it down a ravine to the creek to clean it off. Without being asked. And it wasn't so I would not smear it all over the carpet in his car, or foul the air in general. We had my car and were miles from the end of the hike in the great outdoors. He did it just to be nice. The modern day version of throwing his cloak over the puddle.

And J.'s willingness to help me out of a jam. Large or small. He'd show up with the right gizmo or white elephant item I needed to get something accomplished, or introduce me to just the person who could help me, or see that whatever heinous task I needed to complete was done before I got home.


Lars had generally taken the position that whatever the problem, I had surely painted myself into the corner on my own with my own foolishness, and unless there was a threat to him personally, my problems, large and small, were mine to fix. Clogged drain, transportation issue, tension at work, sick child, social engagement that conflicted with some rare and impersonal visit from his mother, my own pain and suffering.


And there were other things J. did that stood in stark contrast to how Lars handled similar situations. Things that made me realize that until J. did them his way, I'd been unaware of how bizarrely Lars had acted for so long.


Lars was always freakishly private. Shades drawn, doors closed, unavailable, inaccessible, unfriendly. Don't approach him. No, any contact would have to be on his terms. Our house, had I let it, would have taken on the appearance of a cave. Years would go by before Lars would make eye contact with a neighbor, much less meet one.


There was one crazy old lady, who after she got her meds worked out and stopped believing that the other neighbor had kidnapped her friend and was hiding her in her basement, took quite a shine to Lars. And in return, he regularly took her newspaper to her door so she would not have to amble unsteadily down her driveway in her Oomphies to get it herself. At some point, her daughter and half a dozen kids of varying paternal lineage came to squat at her house on a permanent basis. Lars took exception to their taking advantage. (At least that's how he saw it. She might have considered them great company.) One Christmas when we had tons of food left over, and desserts galore, Lars decided to be generous...but only with her. He prepared to take her a piece of pie. One piece! Knowing there was an entire family sitting in the house! Totally panicked that he was about to make an ass of himself, I told him to take the whole pie. Take two!(We had numerous whole pies left, I think we could spare some!) He replied that he didn't want the others to eat it; it was intended for her.


A moron says what?


Only after extreme peer pressure and as I recall, physical intervention on my part, did he relent and take an entire pie across the street. Weirdo.


The peculiarities didn't quit there. On the rare dinner date, when we'd be seated by the maitre d', Lars without exception would confuse everyone by requesting the seat in which I was about to be seated.


And dumbfounded, the stunned maitre d' and I would just go along.


So for 20 years, I had my back to the room. In order for Lars to be on the lookout for the Taliban, Hamas or the Stasi or whatever threat he felt was about to befall him from whomever was targeting him.

All those years, I had to face The Wall. And it was not Pink Floyd's The Wall. If it had been then at least there would have been some musical entertainment. In my case there was just Lars and his substandard table manners.


And so, on this particular night, when my second date with J., following the surprise date with J., began with me stepping out of the elevator at my building and into the beautiful bas relief marble decor in the lobby, J. greeted me warmly, looking handsome. And as he held the door open for me to walk through, he caught the attention of the guard at the desk and called to her, "Goodnight, Janet!"


I turned to ask him if he knew her.


He simply said, "I do now."


Very different, indeed.