by Samuel Pickwick
There she went.
The hot exhaust from her bike stung his eyes, but he forced his lids to stay open so he could etch into his mind her black curls under their handkerchief helmet, the tight leather pants on her muscular legs. Her fingers tightly gripping the handles, the part that makes the loud “Vroom vroom” as she pulls out into the intersection.
He scratched his balding head, burning in the sunshine. Squinting into the distance after her, he almost missed the “Walk” symbol.
Had she seen him wave today, or not? That was the question he asked himself every afternoon on his way home to his condo from his teaching job at the community college.
Professor Crumner. He often whispered it to himself, lying awake in bed, cooking his TV dinner in the microwave. He even found himself doodling the name when he was supposed to be grading the students’ papers, and then he always had to use Wite-Out and then write comments on top of that, and sometimes even angry red slashes, just to make sure no one saw.
How he wanted to be a professor. Maybe she, his motorcycle goddess, his Aphrodite of the open road, would notice a Professor. The fact was, he was still finishing up one blasted community college course: Psychology. It was his fourth time through.
“I think she looked at me,” Mr. Crumner was thinking now. “Her sunglasses just covered it up. I think she would have waved, but she always does like to be the first to go in the line of stopped cars. She is so clever.” He smiled to himself as he thought about her sheer cleverness.
He had waved, eagerly, his hand jerking back and forth like a dog tearing into meaty bone. He waved every day.
At first, he had only seen her every few days or once a week, but then he started sitting at the intersection until she came by. His head was very red, but that was mostly from the Hair-Be-Here! he used every morning.
The next day, he hurried from his classroom, arms full of to-be-graded papers and rushed to the intersection. He couldn’t have missed her, could he? One of the stupid-as-hell students had asked when the final would be. Blast.
However right when he had almost reached the intersection, something got in his way. Literally. He ran into something, and heard a small voice say “Oh!”
Mr. Crumner looked down, suddenly angry. A woman stood there. She was quite ordinary looking, with pale colorless hair in a low ponytail, and a long nose. Really, the only odd thing about her was the way she was looking at him. Shyly, with a small smile on her thin lips. “It’s me,” she said.
“Who the hell are you?” Mr. Crumner said, and looked up to scan the intersection. He was impatient - didn’t have time for mousy little women with long noses.
Her eyes widened. “Why, I’m HER!”
Mr. Crumner looked down at her. “What do you mean, woman? Speak clearly now - I am a professor!” He didn’t feel bad about this lie. The woman looked stupid.
She laughed and looked nervous. “Why, you wave at me every afternoon! I always drive home at this time, and you stand on the corner and wave!”
What was she talking about? This wasn’t Veronica (for that was the pet name he had given his Leather-clad Lover)! He was truly angry now, and righteously so.
“Excuse me,” he said haughtily. “I must be going now. I have no idea what you are speaking of.” Just then he heard the familiar roar of an engine and looked up just in time to see Veronica speeding off. He had missed her! And it was all this woman’s fault. Without looking back at her he stomped off toward home.
The next day when he got to the intersection, he looked around warily for the woman. Thankfully she was nowhere to be seen.
Ah! There was his Motorcycle Mumu (another of his fanciful nicknames) approaching! He raised his hand and waved as fast as he could but this time the light stayed green and she went right through.
Mr. Crumner lowered his hand, but suddenly he heard honking. Looking up he saw a purple mini-van which had stopped in the middle of the intersection, with... the mouse-woman waving eagerly!
“See! You DO know me, man! You waved, I saw! You were being so funny yesterday, how strange and sweet you were being!”
Mr. Crumner was suddenly cold. He looked around, embarrassed by the woman’s display, and rushed off down the street toward his condo.
