For some reason, I didn’t want to be friendly

“Can I sit there?” he motioned to the seat next to me. I was already taking up three seats at the back of the bus when I plopped down with my grocery bags. Nodding, I shifted my bag over.

“I am glad I am not fat,” he said conversationally, a faint breath of alcohol. Or was it alcohol-laced cologne? He looked like a laborer. Probably going home from work. Service? Janitorial? That’s the type of people usually on the 49. He squeezed into the empty seat.

I looked straight ahead and nodded, letting thoughts of cooking my chicken tortilla soup wash over me. Black beans. Chopped green chiles. Saute the garlic and onion first. Medium saucepan.

“Are you from China?” he asked. I tensed. Despite growing up in a world lacking of racism, I had a habit of regarding the question…as an ignorant question especially when asked as introductory question. People around us gave a slight casual curious look.

“No,” I said and continued looking straight ahead watching for my street. The bus filled up when we got to 16th and Mission, but despite that I didn’t shift over and still sat next to the man.

“Korea? Japan?” he guessed.

Feeling a little sympathy, I bluntly said in American English, “No, I am from here.”

He looked at me and sensed my reluctance. “Are you from China?”

I paused while the bus rumbled and then said without making eye contact, “No I am from here.”

He laughed, “China eh? You’re Chinese!! Just trying to make conversation!”

“American. I am American.”

We were silent for a moments. Then he continued, “What’s your name?”

Pausing for a moment, I decided that my name was common enough that I wasn’t losing anything. I gave it to him. Chuckling, he said and extended his hand, “Oh you probably didn’t give me your real name!!! Well, I am Walter!”

I gave a light grasp almost just touching his fingers and shook his hand. Guilt washed over me for not being friendly. As the bus approached 23rd street, I pulled the cord. “Oh so this is where you live!!! Nice talking to you!”

And then I walked out in the once warm now chilly summer night.

3 thoughts on “For some reason, I didn’t want to be friendly

  1. I agree with Joe. Creepy. He was too prodding, to intrigued by you to just be friendly. You should have given him a German, French, or Spanish name to throw him off a bit:

    Monique Osterhaus-Hernandez

  2. i don’t think he was creepy. some people are over friendly or just feel the need to fill silence. i agree that you shouldn’t feel guilty tho.

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