You are Weird, Quiet Man

During this time of my experience with Quiet Man, I felt like a weird routine had formed- I would see him at these events, and I would begin to befriend Fred. Through Fred, I had learned different things and yet nothing more about Quiet Man, all at Fred’s offering.

Prior to this celebration event, I had seen Quiet Man and Fred. It was again at the Italianate wedding hall. It was an important event, in fact a better celebration than the one I previously mentioned.

Fred made these boring things exiting only because he was so enthused about going. He had to be the best dressed, frequently commenting that he never wore the same suit twice and each suit he wore along with its matching pair of shoes, was new. He made the same comment for Quiet Man. This led me to think weird things about Fred.

The night at the Italianate wedding hall, I had to be somewhere else, which I really did not want to attend that something else.

I was dressed more formally that night. I had pulled my hair back to the middle of the back of my head and let the rest of it, which was curled into long bouncy banana curls, drape down my back. I had on a formal cardigan white sweater that was bejeweled with some nice fake glass and embroidery on the front. The sweater was balanced by a dark blue skirt and I had on a pair of high heeled open toed mules whose straps where covered in what my niece believes in her little six year old heart are diamonds. My deep glossy fuchsia toes matched, as you know by now, my favorite color of lipstick: a deep fuchsia.

So, I must have been a sight and not to be missed. I walked into the main dining room, trying not to kill myself on the marble floors. Damned those floors were slippery.

The room was lit like a Christmas tree; every chandelier with its hanging rectangular glass ornaments was fully lit. The music was playing loudly and people were milling about.

As I walked in, I looked around to see who I knew.

Hmmm. I saw a local attorney dressed in jeans, open white shirt and a pair of well worn summer sandals. What a sight! Of course when he greeted me I had to tell him he looked very good since I had not seen him in a long time. How odd is it to be diplomatic, isn’t it?

Now the odd thing about these gatherings is that Quiet Man has not any interest or reason to attend. He merely accompanies Fred who has his reasons besides his ego to attend. I and my family attend for our own valid reasons and would be there regardless.

I looked around and saw my mother who had probably arrived at the place before the staff even thought about setting up for the evening. I have previously mentioned her penchant for arriving early.

She was squeezed in next to Fred and another man and his wife. I felt sorry for that poor wife, for when my mother decides to catch the attention of a man, forget the woman they may be with. She has the charm, of I don’t know what, as to how to catch an keep the steady attention of a man. My mother is 79 year old widow who looks 50, so that helps her along very well. Despite all her heavy duty flirting for attention’s sake, she has never looked at another man in any other way other than as a partner
(or victim) in her insatiable need to communicate. My mother is a one man woman, despite her intensely alluring femininity and bird like voice. She has always been this way my entire life.

I called out to my mother, who, as usual when engrossed in holding court, ignored me. I was hesitant to go to the table because Quiet Man was on the other side of Fred. And besides, there was no room at the table. Fred was engrossed in conversation with my mother and the man on the other side of her. Tried as he might, Fred could not break the hold my mother had on the gentleman while she talked and talked to him. I should have later told Fred not to feel bad because the man’s wife had even less success.

“Mom” I said as I stood next to her, “Mom!”

It took me to grab her shoulder to loosen the conversational lock jaw she had.

She was utterly unconcerned that there was no room at the table. I did not greet Fred, nor Quiet Man, who had left the table to get up and go somewhere.

“Mom, are you going to get up and get a new table?” I asked her. I was not going to sit at this table and I wanted to start a table for us and others who had not arrived.

She continued to ignore me, except waved her hand, which was down by her side, to shoo me away.

Fred had gotten up on his feet to say hello to me.

“Hello, sweetheart, good to see you” he said as he kissed me on the cheek, “Quiet Man is here, so why don’t you sit next to him?”

“Why?” I said, “There is not room for me at this table.”

“We will make room, sweetheart, don’t worry,” he said as he shoved another seat next to Quiet Man’s seat and this woman who I instantly disliked when I laid eyes on her.

“Sit down, Muse!” demanded my mother as she continued to talk to her victim. My mother continues to believe, most strongly in social situation, that I am still two years of age.

I sat down, with an empty seat between myself and Fred. The woman next to me spilled over from her seat and onto me, without a care in the world. I was getting agitated. I am sitting in a seat that was squished into the table that really could not hold another place and this loud, obnoxious woman who was carrying on her own conversation was using part of my thigh as her seat.

Fred had turned and said something to this woman. She immediately turned and literally bellowed her answer into my ear! I got up in disgust, threw her off of me and pushed my chair away from the table.

“Muse, where are you going?” asked Fred.

“Where I will not get my ear drums screamed into!” I said not caring if the woman heard me or not.

I was thoroughly disgusted. I found an empty table and sat down. I looked over at the table I just left and there was Quiet Man, sitting there quietly. He did not acknowledge me or call me over; he just looked at me with this penetrating look. He would look away and look again. It was annoying. Was he going to leave that damned table and come over to me or not? No? Ok.

My brother and his girl friend, Arin, came over to me. Prior to this, a very handsome business man sauntered over to say hello to me. I had hoped Quiet Man was watching. This man was tall with a formidable build-he fills out his suits very well. He was nice. Married men usually are when their wives are not around. He offered to get me a glass of wine. That was his usual marching orders when he saw me at these things. I usually declined, but this time I accepted. So off he went to fetch the wine. Quiet Man was watching but this scenario did not entice him to move from where he was; how annoying.

I was chatting with Arin, and Tim, the handsome man with the wine, dropped the glass off to me and bid his farewell to go and find other people he for which he probably wanted to buy wine.

My brother asked where our mother was; I indicated yonder with a tilt of my head. I kept talking to the girlfriend.

Eventually my mother decided to leave her captive audience and made her way to my table to sit with me and the others who had arrived.

She did not stay very long and returned to Fred’s table. Fred and Quiet Man, during her sojourn away from them, kept to themselves. I guess Fred who now had the gentleman my mother was monopolizing all to himself was unable to keep up the momentum my mother left.

After I was done discussing nothing with Arin, I sat down at the table to drink the wine Tim had bought for me. I sat there sipping it, swishing it and then sipping again.

My cell rang and the person was asking why I was not at event number two- I told them I would get there when I was done at event number one.

I looked over at my mother laughing and animated at Fred’s table. Quiet Man had risen again-was he coming over to me? No. He started to walk down the aisle between the rows of tables. I took my wine glass and left my table.

As Quiet Man was leaving the room, I walked over to my mother.

Quiet Man had been leaving the table to smoke.

Fred got up from his seat to stand and talk to me. Behind Fred, was a wall of glass to the outside. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Quiet Man walk the length of the building; he stopped behind Fred. All the other smokers congregated at the door at the other end of the building. Now he, for all to see, was standing alone, on the other side of the glass, facing me.

Fred was jibber jabbering and probably thought I was intently paying attention to him while I was watching Quiet Man who was in my direct view.

What is wrong with this quiet man? His behavior is odd. It does not fit, it’s off.

Quiet Man had a cigarette lit; his figure is imposing. He stood at a stance. He crossed his left arm over his chest and stood there, staring, peering through the glass at me. He only moved his right arm from being draped across his left, to raise it to his mouth to take a drag. He never diverted his eyes. He never moved from his stance. He stood there for the duration of his smoke, taking a drag and letting out the smoke from his mouth in a slow, steady stream.

For all Quiet Man knew, I was looking at Fred while speaking with him. I was laughing and giggling at any ridiculous thing Fred had said.

When Quiet Man finished his cigarette, he turned to walk back to the door. I took this cue to break away from Fred.

When the organizers of the event where going to make their big announcement, they called people to the dance floor. I saw Fred with Quiet Man lingering behind him jump to the center of the squared off parquet flooring, in the center of the room with the roaming colored lights that were still swishing back and forth over the very spot, where only moments before, adults in formal attire where dirty dancing with each other.

I stood next to Fred who was a bit of a distance from Quiet Man. Fred, true to himself, asks me why I did not go over to Quiet Man and say hello. I rolled my eyes into my head. Slowly, as he was talking to me, Fred made side steps towards Quiet Man.

It was awkward- Fred’s side steps, the people gathering around us, me not wanting to side step, and well, I ended up in a line formation with Quiet Man and Fred in between.

True to Quiet Man form, he looks at me and reached over with his broad smile to kiss me hello. We started to chat about how he was completely disinterested in these things; Fred stopped paying attention to an announcement that had yet to arrive. I commented to them that they had on the same pair of shoes. It was odd. Fred who was much shorter than Quiet Man looking like him; I told them they reminded me of Arnold S. Danny D. on Twins.

Quiet Man was pleasant enough that night-though unusually quiet for him. As I stood next to him during announcements, since Fred had left us, we made small talk and listened to whatever dopey things were being said. He spoke to me while still looking at what was going-on on the floor. I did the same, but I felt like he was looking down into my sweater when I was not looking at him, which was easy enough because he was much taller than I was even with the diamond mules I was wearing. When I caught his downward gaze, I shifted my position to face him.

Fred had returned from listening at front and center, his favorite spot in any venue.

I announced I had to go somewhere else that night so I was leaving early. Fred was more concerned than Quiet Man. Fred was not pleased I was leaving. He goaded, cajoled and hen pecked Quiet Man to meet up with me where I was going to go and have drinks. Drinks, Fred’s idea of a sexy night out I think.

I ignored Quiet Man, who agreed to this pushiness by his friend Fred. Fred asked me how to get where I was going, I told him and Quiet Man was now interested in the announcements that resumed again.

“Yes, yes, Freddy, I know where it is, I know” said Quiet Man who was acting odd.

“Fine, I will be there regardless if you come or do not” I retorted, addressing Fred only.

“Oh, we will be there!” said Fred, “We just want to see what happens next here.”

Well, it turned out that they did not arrive and I should have stayed at event number one for event number two ended earlier than planned and it was a complete waste of my time.

It was after this event, that Fred made his first direct approach to tell me Quiet Man likes you, Muse!