The Path Goes Around

 

The Path Goes Around

It started with a lie.

While jogging around the park, I saw her walking next to an elderly man. Probably her grandfather; hell, I guess he could have been her husband.

“What was going through your mind?” she asks me.

“You were,” I say.

What happened was this: my girlfriend and I had broken up because having a constant headache was unpleasant. Fifteen days later, I still never thought I would meet anyone that beautiful. Fifteen days later, I was proven wrong.

“Oh, you’re just saying that,” she playfully accuses me.

I thought there would be no others. But there she was, walking in her gray tank top and black pants with her fair skin and brownish-red hair, clueless of her indirect actions. By doing nothing, she showed me that others were out there. By doing nothing, she saved my life.

“I was going to kill myself.”

“When?” What a perfectly interesting response.

“When I got home, about ten minutes after I first saw you.”

I had always been uncomfortable approaching women. By that, I mean I had never approached one without an excuse. I made one up this time. I did not allow myself to return home without even a mild conversation. I just had to; she was that stunning.

“Excuse me, sir.”

My opening line was not even directed at her. I told the old man, who thankfully turned out to be her grandfather, that I was writing an article about war veterans. I assumed he had been in at least one war. He had, so it worked. I blurted out a series of questions which somehow ended up being relevant and not terrible.

“Did you believe in our country’s involvement?”

“Did you lose any close friends in combat?”

“What did you do when you got scared?”

I never even asked which war he was in. His answers were probably genuine and wonderful but I didn’t listen. I feigned mental notes while love-struck by his granddaughter.

“Is that when you asked me out?” she asks with equal parts frustration and romantic longing.

The smoothest segue I could think of was this: “Well, your grandfather has done a marvelous job in answering my questions. Perhaps you would like to answer some also… over dinner.”

My charm is undervalued for good reason. But she agreed and here we are. I simply had to tell her that whatever we were to become began with a lie. I was writing no article on war veterans. My sole interest was talking to her. Mission accomplished.

The most appropriate thing to do is apologize to her grandfather. I used the old man for personal gain. “Also,” I add, “I will write a legitimate paper on your grandfather’s experiences in the war.”

"And do what with it?"

She caught me. I hesitated. "Scream it out so the world can hear his story."

“This is the strangest first date I’ve ever had.” I believe her.

“I can understand that. Will there be a second?”

"No. How can I trust you when the first thing you did was lie to me?"

It started with a lie and ended because of the truth...