|
I've always thought that wearing headphones was the international sign for don't talk to me -- am I wrong? -- so when people come up to me and try to ask me something even though I clearly can't hear them, I always assume, rather naively, and usually wrongly, that it is something important. Or else they wouldn't bother me. Because I am wearing headphones. If I was smart, I would just ignore them and keep walking. But I have a fault, which is that I like to give people directions when they are lost. It makes me feel good. I hate being lost myself and I don't want to be that bitch who just walks past the poor guy who is lost and looking for help. So, I stop walking, press stop on my walkman and say, "Pardon?"
"Do you believe in God?" the relatively innocuous looking black man asks me in French. He is wearing a long coat and a red scarf. I hesitate, weighing all the possible responses I could give and the reaction they would invoke from him. I decide that "yes" is probably the safest answer. Sometimes they are just checking and will leave you alone if you only say "yes." I do not want to talk theology with some stranger in the subway. I do not want to talk to some stranger in the subway, period. Unless it is to give them directions.
"Yes," I say and sigh loudly, to show that I am annoyed with the question. I press play on my walkman and walk hurriedly away.
But the man follows me, still talking, although I can't make out most of what he says. I hear the word "Catholic" and it sounds like a question. Sure enough, the man is looking at me expectantly, while I avoid his gaze. He is matching me step for step. No, I tell him, I am not Catholic.
He follows me onto the escalator, still talking. We stand there side by side. I am ignoring him, listening to my music, but there is a break between songs and I hear him say, "But God is coming. And I want to offer you an invitation. Does this interest you, an invitation?"
"No," I say pointedly, shaking my head, looking away.
The man turns away abruptly and runs down the escalator. I watch him go, his scarf flapping around him, feeling a little mean.
When I get off the escalator I look around for him but he has disappeared.
I am curious of what that invitation would have consisted. Also, I wonder if he was trying to convert me out of the goodness of his heart and his concern for my well-being, or because God rewards those who convert the most people? I wonder just when it is exactly that he thinks God is coming. The whole thing reminds me of the grandmother in White Teeth.
Which reminds me of the Jehovas Witnesses who come around my parents house and ask for me by name even though I haven't lived there in years. Not that I ever talked to them when I did. Mostly I pretended not to be home when they came by or else pretended that I was the babysitter. No one knows how they got my name in the first place. My mother is relieved because now instead of talking to them she can just tell them that I am not home and they leave her some pamphlets for me. Then she calls me and says, "Guess who came by looking for you today?"
|
|
|
about
"The mind of the thoroughly well informed [person] is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, and everything priced above its proper value."
archives
credits
|
|