Nick of Time

There's a shop on West Main Street where I frequently drop by to check out the latest sales and sensations. The young and fresh-faced store attendant knows me well by sight nowadays and calls out a cheerful "Hi there !" or a "How're you doing?" whenever I either enter the store or prepare to leave. Initially I'd felt somewhat awkward at exchanging such niceties with strangers whose fates really don't concern me in the least. But I soon got used to it in course of time, although I daresay K would be able to recall several unfortunate instances when I was singularly tongue-tied (very rude, was the exact turn of phrase he used, I think) whe, one evening, the most flamboyant and flirtatious amongst a group of young beauties asked me in passing how I was doing and I came up with the smartest response known to mankind, a blank stare (later, I tried to justify myself by arguing with K that she had addressed him and not me). On another similar occasion, a very young teen returning from school seemed to be eyeing me almost reverentially from a distance, obvious enough to make me sneak a quick peek at my attire to check out the flaw that premised her gaze (her expression surely being deciphered wrongly by my short-sighted self). Funnily enough, when right in front, she rewarded me with a flashing smile and a 'Hiiiiiiiiii there !" I sure felt very proud of myself after that for the most obscure reasons I (or anyone else, for that matter) could conjure up. But the point is that I've now internalised the custom myself and usually treat the Brookside maintenance crew or the salesman at a shop counter or the lady serving me at the post office with similar pleasantries, unless of course, I feel to sleepy or sulky to venture into speech of any form.

However, last Friday, I was caught totally off-guard. The store attendant at the aforementioned shop had exchanged the usual pleasantries and small talk regarding the weather with me and I was just settling in to exploration mode within the shop, elated at my eventual public appearance after several days of inclement weather and frustrated exercise. All of a sudden , he came up with the most bizarre question ever, "So, how's your partner doing ?" There was a long pause before I could muster up enough gravity to reply. His question seemed more to try and delicately move the attention away from the nature of K and my relationship than to draw attention to it but weirdly enough, it succeeded in having quite the opposite effect. For one moment, I battled with the mischievous desire to rise to the occasion by demanding which 'partner' he was referring to, but restrained myself just in time. It dawned on me in a flash : several small and overlooked signs coming together to complete the puzzle in a split second of intuitive recognition of his homosexuality.

I thanked my lucky stars that I had not risen to my own bait. Freedom of speech should always be encouraged, but not at the expense of others.