The Manikin

or: My Body Before Me

Right now, I'd like you to remember all the times you were alone in public. Sitting in some innocuous part of the food court, or the park, or even your workplace. If you're not the type to carry a book around, or try to meet new people, the natural pastime you resort to is people-watching.

People are always doing something. Sometimes, it's something dramatic, like calling off an engagement, or arguing with a sibling over a will. Other times it's something that would, in any other situation, be considered dull, like sitting on a bench waiting for someone, or waiting for their dog to finish relieving itself, or waiting for a bus to arrive. The times when a person is waiting for something are usually the dullest for them.

Usually when you partake in the act of people-watching, you are waiting. Waiting for a customer or a phone call or a waiter. Waiting for a waiter. But, once whatever you're waiting on arrives, you snap out of it, and likely forget about whatever or whomever you were watching.

You may not be able to understand why I did the things that I did, but I hope, at least, you would understand how I felt when it started.

I've always struggled to find a way to pass my time. The main reason for that was I didn't really have anything to wait for. My parents were normal people, not overly cruel or anything. I had a brother, who was a few years older than me, and he was real into sports. Me, I never got the point of them, and my parents never pressured me into it. I was fine in school. Not too talented, not too lazy, just average. Got into college. Majored in something or other. Graduated. Got an office job doing nothing in particular. That's where it started.

After a few years, I got to the point where I could do my job from muscle memory, so I started picking up on my coworkers' conversations. I didn't know anyone. I had never talked to anyone but my boss when I applied. Didn't have much to say. I don't think anyone ever noticed me. So people didn't think too much about having private conversations 10 feet away from me.

The first one I can remember was between two ladies, Janine and Sandy. Janine was a stumpy ginger who lied about drinking decaf, and Sandy was a fair-skinned lady who seemed like she ought to have been housewife, which is to say, she clearly didn't care much for her job or coworkers. Janine was upset because her husband accidentally flushed her toothbrush down the toilet that morning.

"Andy's always been such a klutz," I remember her saying. "Y'know, David was always very careful with my things, a real gentleman."

"Who's David?" asked Sandy.

"Oh, my first husband. He was such a sweetheart, but he was having an affair, so I left him."

"That's a shame. Sometimes I worry that Mark is seeing other women, but I decided a long time ago that I don't want to know."

"Well, I don't have to worry about that with Andy. He can hardly figure out how to ask me what we're having for dinner, let alone coax another woman into an affair." They laughed.

After that, they talked about whatever else. I didn't think much about it. When the work day ended, I went to exit the building. I ended up holding the door open for Sandy, which brought the conversation back into my mind. Coincidentally, we took the same bus home. I kept glancing at her, but she never paid me a thought. We didn't have the same stop, but when collected her purse and stood up, I got off behind her anyway.

Her house was right next to her stop. I thought that was lucky. She went inside, and I sat on a bench. I didn't have anywhere to be, and I didn't particularly want to sit in my clammy little apartment, so I stayed there for a while. A long while. I just sat there, thinking about nothing and everything at once. Noticing things going on inside windows. People moving around, having arguments and sex. Dramatically innocuous.