I Wonder What She Meant?
This is a short tale that is not what it appears. There is no sex, sorry.
It was an innocuous conversation. To tell the truth, I don't even remember what she said, the she being Sue, a friend of my wife's. But on our way home, Linda, my wife, pondered, "I wonder what she meant?"
Being a guy, Jim Carson, I tried for the obvious, "Why not what she said? Do you think she misspoke?"
Linda looked at me and swallowed her first thought, "No, I suppose she could have just meant what she said."
The pause and the confusion both got to me. Why would you be so curious about whether someone meant what they said? I enjoy mysteries: books, TV shows, movies, and puzzles I try to work out myself. This was one of those.
One of the great things about mysteries is interrogation. A suspect almost always gives themself up in an interview. I don't think it is their guilt. It is having too much information and not knowing only the perp would know what they know. You ask a small child, "What were you doing?" "I wasn't in the kitchen sneaking a cookie." It doesn't occur to the child that only the perp knows a cookie is missing.
The other thing, common to mysteries, is things that don't seem to add up, don't. If Linda wonders if people say what they mean, it is because she doesn't. I tried to think what she'd said, which was worded to misinform. Quickly, I decided that wasn't the path to discovery. I had fallen for it, and since I had no idea what it was or when she'd said it, I wouldn't figure it out this way.
The light turned green, and I just sat there. "Are you waiting for the pole to turn green, too?" Linda brought me out of my mulling. I took my foot off the brake and hit the accelerator. Once again, we were on our way home from Sue and Dave's.
"Where are you?" Linda asked. Her question was not disgusted, like she was asking a dumb ass who didn't go on green. It was timid, like she feared she'd let the cat slip out of the bag.
If I had any idea what Linda had said to me, disingenuously, I could ask a question probing her about that. What could I say, instead? Alerting her was my worst option if I wanted to know more.
"You know me, I find mysteries everywhere. I am thinking about situations where people would say what they didn't mean and why they might say it."
"I'm sorry I said that. I just meant she didn't sound like she meant it. She was insincere."
"Oh, I get that," I said, trying to convince her she'd thrown me off the track, again. "But, for instance, we all tell white lies, to keep from hurting someone if we told the truth."
"I suppose. Pay attention to your driving."
That convinced me. I know that it might be paranoia, but even paranoids have people who want to get them. Dismissing an uncomfortable comment can only be because there was something harmful in the comment.
People are deceitful for many reasons. Spouses are deceitful for two reasons: infidelity and money. We watched our money too carefully; she was not hiding spending from me. Am I getting carried away? No, I don't think so. If it's infidelity, I'll take some moderate action, like smothering her while she sleeps. If not, well, it's no big deal.
"We will not get home this week if you keep sitting at green lights. Get off it. I misspoke. I didn't mean what I said. Leave it alone."
"Yes, dear."
The game is afoot.
I am an accountant, but I am also very creative. Early in my education, a professor told me to find an outlet for my creativity since creativity in accounting is generally a felony. So, I write. So far, writing is a hobby.
I write mostly on Wednesday night, when Linda works late.
