A Couple Argues in Front of Me
I watch.
It's late-afternoon on a Saturday. We're staying at the coast for the weekend. The air is crisp. The sun is cutting its way down through the sky. I'm inside reading a book when I notice an older couple walk along the bluff between me and the Pacific Ocean.
The couple stop at a tiny fence and turn toward the water – a small cove where the water slams rocks and laps sand. Their backs are toward me and they're standing two feet apart. Both are slender. Both wearing clothes that suggest they'd planned for a long walk today.
Perhaps they stopped to take in the view. Or perhaps one has decided it's time to speak up about something. The vertical weathered wood slats of this small fence protect them from making a misstep and plunging into the cove.
_____
They turn to face each other. Her body is rigid. She shouts and thrusts her hands into the air in front of his face, as if holding a thing she can no longer bear to carry. As if she wants to drop it at his feet.
His arms dangle at his sides. His hands are clasped together as if in contrition or remorse. He looks down at the dirt path and mouths something in return.
She turns back toward the water. He stands waiting. Hoping.
I'm captivated. I feel bad for him. But also for her.
Minutes go by. She turns to face him again, this time with her arms crossed over her breasts in a tight embrace of herself. He looks up at her, his hands still clasped at his midsection. Her mouth is wide, searching, her hands gesticulating. He lowers his eyes. His lips move almost imperceptibly.
It's infidelity, I decide. She's confronting him.
_____
Or is she? Maybe it went like this:
_____
They turn to face each other. His hands are clasped below his waist as if resting atop a sturdy cane that springs up from the ground. She thrusts her hands toward him as she shouts.
He avoids eye contact and quietly responds.
She turns back to face the water. He stands waiting. Hoping.
Minutes go by. She turns to face him again, this time with her arms crossed over her breasts in a tight embrace of herself. He looks up at her. He is patient as she argues, explains, and pleads her case, his hands still resting atop his imaginary cane. He lowers his eyes. His lips move almost imperceptibly like he is gently talking her out of something.
She's an addict, I think, and today is the day he confronts her. He's trying to give her space, while also saying it's time.
____
Maybe you think something else is going on? Whatever it is, this drama is officially better than my book.
_____
The couple turn back toward the ocean. I return to my book. Ten minutes later, I look up to find them still there at the fence. More hands waving. More bodies rigid. More mouths moving. More eyes searching. More eyes staring at the ground.
Maybe they're disagreeing about how to resolve an issue with their adult child. Maybe it's about a big financial misstep. Maybe one of them deeply offended the other over brunch with friends earlier.
I get up for a glass of water and sit back down by the window. After another five minutes, each steps toward the space between them and they embrace. It's a different kind of intimacy now, so I quickly look down at my book, then glance up again.
They're still holding each other, tight, like two strands of a rope that become a knot silhouetted by the sun. Like the years of their commitment stretch longer than the conflict between them. After a long time of this, they peel apart and become two individuals again. They continue their walk. The sun continues its path to the horizon.
_____
What's more captivating than humans working their shit out? Is there meaning in our effort to interpret? Would you have watched? Or am I just a busybody?
What I felt most of all was profound compassion. For both. I'll never know who they were, or what was happening. I was just rooting for them to get the conflict – whatever it may have been – aired, discussed, and behind them. I have my thoughts about what was up, but I am most certainly wrong.
We read into things and so often get it wrong, not just when observing others but when we're a part of it. I have to ask myself, how often am I the one actually in the conversation, yet not really getting the fullness of what is going on for the other person? How can this afternoon watching the body language of strangers ultimately help me better understand other humans? That's what I find most fascinating.
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