As the warm afternoon sun shined down on the Whole Foods parking lot, I stared at him, and he stared at me. Or at least, I think his gaze was directed at me. Unsure, I glanced behind me. No one was standing there. Turning back around, my eyes once again met his. No doubt, he was a nice piece of art to behold. However, my expression wasn't one of googly eyed attraction, it was of a deer caught in the headlights.
This man, according to all outward appearances, was the skin and bone manifestation of a character in two of my novels, right down to the same style of clothing. I knew easily enough why the character was so often in my thoughts. While writing I had spent countless hours spinning him in a million different directions as he fell in love (albeit, tragically), with the lead character. But that didn’t explain what he was doing standing motionless in the doorway of Whole Foods - staring at me. I didn’t smile; something I regret to this day. Instead, my mind tried to process the coincidence while my body turned to petrified wood.
In the moments that led up to him stopping and turning to face me, I had the distinct impression that something was trying to get my attention. Call it what you wish (God, universe, what have you), but whatever it is, does so in a voice that only we can understand. That voice, in this particular incident, spoke to me in a low rumble of a V8 engine, nestled nicely inside a 1967 butternut yellow Camaro SS. Nothing grabs my attention faster and better. Stepping out of the grocery store, the approaching rumble caused my hand to tighten around my daughter’s, and our feet to stop, so I could watch the car roll by. As the vintage Camaro backed into its spot, my daughter and I walked to the car we were driving, a 2010 cherry red Camaro; the only other Camaro in the parking lot. Pushing the boundaries of my peripheral vision, I tried to get a better look at the man stepping out of the car.
I signaled to my son to pop the trunk open. Putting the groceries inside, I slammed it closed, and turned to look at the store. In doing so, my eyes were given a startling and an unobstructed view of the man who moments earlier had been driving the butternut yellow Camaro. He was standing in the open doorway, his view locked onto me. Maybe he thought he knew me, but he never walked over. Instead he offered a broad smile that rested nicely on his attractive, enthusiastic face, while his disheveled blonde hair brushed lightly across his shoulders. Although in that moment I absorbed every nuance of this person, what I noticed most about him was the magnetic energy he possessed, and the rather startling effect it had on me. I froze. During the entire time, which I should add, felt awkwardly long, that he stood in the doorway - I stood like a lone post in a barren field - without expression and unmoving.
I turned to look back at my car, the newer version of the same car he drove, and wondered if he had taken notice of it, and that was what caught his attention. Looking quickly back at the store, he was gone. Crawling behind the wheel, I sat for a moment, and questioned going back into the store. But doing so would require that I step wildly out of my comfort zone, something I'm not prone to do. Disappointed with myself and the enormous wall I've built around my heart, I pulled out of the parking space and drove slowly to where his car was parked. I gave it a long look, then drove away.
I don’t think the moment was meant to be more than a reminder that something is paying very close attention to my thoughts - even those I spin into a novel. When I think it isn’t listening – it is. An attractive man having any other appearance would have been fun enough. But instead, it felt as though a character in my book had stepped out from the pages, turned around and smiled at me. It’s a happy memory, even though there is a fair amount of regret that dusts over its surface. Would it have killed me to walk in, and busy myself squeezing a few melons just to get a closer look - no. If ever I'm offered a mulligan, a do over, I vow, at the very least, to offer the same broad smile given to me.
Sane
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