Sometimes I say I need to leave now to meet someone

even though there’s no one waiting for me, but it’s such

an easy thing to say and I like the freedom of slipping away.

 

Today I sat in a meeting in one of the library rooms where

we were all supposed to talk about a book we read. Before

it was my turn, I looked at my watch, frowned, and

 

quickly gathered my things. Shaking my head, I got up and

left the room. I think they all understood I was late for a more

important meeting. Sometimes I program my cell phone to ring

 

in the afternoon. Even though I know what time is set, the

jingle always surprises me. Tom, I say in a flustered voice, I can’t talk now,

but, if you insist, wait a moment while I leave the cafe. Once

 

I went to a church service and sat in the back. I piled my coat

on the space next to me so that it looked like I was saving a place

for someone else. That way, when they didn’t come, I could leave.

 

People know not to ask me where I’m going, but I usually

have an answer prepared. I really can’t talk about it, I say,

and that is the truth.