Coupling (Something Different)

 

Coupling (Something Different)

I often call this a project because it is. I am constantly working on it. I am recording sounds. I am taking a lot of photos. I am jotting down memories. And most days I store these things in an arsenal seldom used. I figure one day I will write a book. Maybe it will be a memoir or possibly a table book designed like a scrap book with all of my tidbits and blurbs. Sometimes I think this stuff is terribly good and deserves to be put into the universe instead of banking on my phone and laptop. This is a story time if you will, an imagining at this years Christmas rush at the wochenmarkt. Let's face it with the lockdown and Wednesdays market falling on the 23rd anyone and everyone was there this Saturday even with half the vendors gone. The lines seemed endless and you couldn't help by observe and people watch. There seemed to be so many new faces, babies and unleashed dogs. Sometimes I daydream while waiting hoping that I can be someone else anywhere but here. I am rarely shifted from it until someone rudely says "Hallo". It has been such a long while since we both went to the market. He doesn't seem to care for it like I do and constantly makes excuses around getting there or parking. We could just park at Lidl and walk over. I am always so stressed because my husband is driving around in circles five blocks from our home awaiting my text. There is no one to hold hands with or steal money from. There is no one to people watch with me or keep all those really mean old ladies from shoving me. I am often running from vendor to vendor and I never actually enjoy the Saturday market. Most of the time I go alone to the Friday one but even then I am trying to hurry back to the Linie 9 before it leaves again. I know people split up to do their shopping and join together at the end. But someone always feels out of place. It is rare a couple is in sync and enjoying each other doing simple things like shopping. I couldn't help but be mesmerized at the two people who stood out in the crowd doing just that. If you know these people don't tell me. I don't want to believe they have real jobs, or have children or vacuum. For me they are David and Venus. No more and no less. They helped pass the time and luckily for me I was able to catch him circling right after this daydream come true...

As I stood there wasting space, feeling oddly underdressed and overly stressed waiting. I noticed the man I was standing behind was relaxed and as poised as could be. As the others huddled in the distance awkwardly waiting some annoyed, he seemed to be swaying and positioned one leg to an alternate plane. Whenever passerbys questioned the line or attempted to skip us towards the rear although he was number eleven and I was twelve out of fourteen he always spoke for all of us. He used both hands to explain how this was the rear and there was me and others behind me so that was the end. People normally don't defend me. People don't defend anything here. Yet he never hesitated each time it happened and his body language stayed the same as he boastfully and sternly spoke to them. Then he would follow with glee and turning to me and the others to jeer at the interruptions and infractions. He was a beautiful man, tall and well manicured with Patrick Dempsey hair. The kind with short sides and the long top. And his hair delicately blew in the cold wind yet stayed perfectly in place. I believe his coat was wool in a soft grey unlike all the brightly colored puffs and nylon surrounding us. I remembered when there used to be a time I could button a cheap pea coat. I had a J.Crew one for a while but I really wanted a MaxMara trench length something that I could never afford. Once I tried on a friends when I was younger and fitter. In that moment it became a dream of mines to own a similar coat but now even if I could it wouldn’t dare button. I stood there consumed by thought, envy and infatuation and then time stood still as this voluptuous, tall and demure woman sauntered through the market. She was a cross between Nigella Lawson and Monica Belucci. A pale brunette with naturally pursed lips and almond shaped eyes. So not the type of beauty or figure you normally see in a German market or anywhere really and she had on a long wool navy coat with a beautiful matching brightly marine colored fur collar certainly real or carefully made to look it. Of course her coat buttoned and remained fitted and flared all at the same time. She was well taken care of, kept as they say and very pretty in the sense that she walked pretty. Her skin and hair was better than everyone else’s. Her hands and fingers were in whatever position dancers have when they start an eight count. She was lovely in every since of the word and suddenly she turned in my direction from the traffic of ordinary people walking to what seemed directly towards me. I readied myself to move if she wanted to purchase the honey that was hidden behind my large frame but then she turned just so to engage with that tall man in front of me I had been admiring. Together they made worlds most perfect couple. She stood what seemed like an exact foot lower than him and with his hair and demeanor he towered just so to be dominant but she was my size maybe bigger and she had this beautiful, virile man who obviously treated her like a queen. Maybe that is why her skin glowed and her thick hair had been expertly styled into a timeless and perfectly groomed chignon at 8am on a dark Saturday morning. Her glasses were either brand new or cleaned with a special cloth so her eyes sparkled when she looked up at him in her tortoise shell rimmed cat eyed spectacles. As they spoke about their market finds she seemed to display a number of exquisite leather goods. They were all things I had seen before that weren’t popular or too expensive. She brandished them one by one, everything crafted in the same minimalist style but in different jewel tone colors with gold zippers and snaps. All leather in rich burgundy, browns, navies with stamps stating they were leather in matching gold - the wallet, her coin purse, the handbag. I couldn’t hear their voices because they had that unique ability to speak in whispers where only they could be understood something if I tried to make a thing I would be admonished and told to speak up causing a scene. Somehow they did this effortlessly and with grace moved ahead in line as a couple exchanging totes of what I imagined to be organic vegetables and floral bouquets. Still he casually yet elegantly stood occasionally toying with his two toned tasseled scarf the same scarf I had debated buying my husband the other day. And he spoke with both hands pointing down at other vendors and the nearby architecture while she smiled and never once had to endure a button opening on her coat. I told myself I could be her and we could be them so that evening I ordered all the colors of two toned scarfs with tassels. . . I ordered every single one of them.