She was an over-smiler, that was clear. I showed up out of shape and very casually dressed - just as I happened to exist in that moment in time without adornment, camouflage or effort. We ordered drinks.
I'd consumed half of mine before she'd even touched hers. She asked questions and I answered them. When I spoke, she over-smiled and seemed to close her eyes completely in the process. To me, it appeared as though she were grimacing in pain. Crohn's disease or something else abdominal maybe. I fought back the urge to ask her if she was alright.
Maybe she was trying to mask a state of extreme terror. I reminded her perhaps of some past trauma or absolute horror. Maybe it was something surgical, some acid peel or botox procedure that hadn't settled yet. Or some new beauty trend, like those crazy eyebrows, that had come into fashion while I was institutionalized. I couldn't be sure. It was disconcerting though. To say the least.
Frankly, I didn't want to be there. I couldn't be sure if I was interpretting her facial expressions accurately so began to doubt myself savagely. My confidence began to erode. Insecurity crept in.
I asked her a question about her educational background. And as she responded through an exceedingly tight seemingly forced smile, I pretended to cough, brought my hand to my mouth and inserted four alka-seltzer tablets. I followed that with a generous sip of sparkling water. Then I stared at her blankly for a moment, widened my eyes, and began to tremble visibly. I let my eyes roll back and allowed myself to trust fall off the back of my stool. The alka-seltzer was foaming at this point and someone shrieked. Someone else called 911. A young waiter cradled my head in his lap and placed his wallet between my teeth.
I just stared at the ceiling with my back arched burning calories with forced muscular convulsions. I didn't look in her direction, not once, but experience had taught me that if I just stuck it out for a few seconds more, she'd be gone.
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