Joy

Joy

Though we had only been talking for a few minutes, it became clear both
to me and to Sharon that we should have ignored each other and kept
shopping. Instead, we attempted a conversation while her husband waited
in line behind us. The conversation went poorly. I've known Sharon for
decades, since the early seventies, but that could not disguise the
fact that we had become completely different people, almost completely
opposed to one another, utterly opposed. And when she said to me she
that she was working for a humanitarian organization assisting with
economic development in, as she said, urban areas, I was fully
convinced that we had nothing in common. Though I completely agree with
and in fact subscribe to the idea, the political idea, of providing
people with access to wealth, I knew right away that Sharon and I were
doomed. I should say that there is nothing more repulsive to me than
someone or something, some organization, a class, hoarding money. And
yet I could not shake the feeling that Sharon and I could never really
communicate. We would never be friends and should not have begun a
conversation that was only going to end poorly. Had it not been for her
husband, a pest of a man who would at any moment come to rescue Sharon
from me, we would have chatted very pleasantly for some time, fully
realizing that we should not be having a conversation at all. I knew,
or at least strongly suspected, that she understood our predicament.
She had said within the first few sentences that it was nice seeing me
but that she really must be going, which I joyously took to be a cue.
But she went on talking. I did not, as would have been honest, reveal
my disgust but continued smiling ridiculously and insincerely into her
face as she babbled on about this and that person, about this and that
place, about this and that thing her daughter said, and then on and on
about how wonderful it is to have children. I must admit to myself that
I was being very insincere and even inconsiderate. Of course, she asked
if I had any children, knowing full well that I did not. Then, to my
amazement she insisted that I have children someday with, as she said,
What's-her-name?, a completely condescending demand. When finally her
husband came to take her away I realized that Sharon had not been
speaking to me at all. Not surprisingly she had been conversing
non-verbally with her husband through her interaction with me. It
became clear just then that instead of speaking to me she wanted to
tell her husband that she was happy. They have a beautiful child and
they had created this happiness together. Unfortunately she succeeded
only in strangling me with this joy, strangling me with her, as she
said, family happiness, and her husband never knew the difference.