“Who are you?” asked the girl next to me at the bus stop. We’d just missed the bus by 2 minutes and I’d commented on that, making it OK to talk to me.
I told her my name and she told me hers, Noga. Meeting her was touching. I know you don’t spell Noga with an Ayen, but she is the kind of person who is just touching to meet.
“You aren’t coming from the peace festival, are you?” she asked, “I mean you don’t look like one of us.” She was wearing a sun dress, open sandals and earrings. I was wearing a sun dress, open sandals and huge peace earrings. “I mean, except for your earrings,” she said.
“I guess you can’t hide who you are no matter what you wear,” I said, making some comment about how I’d had a meeting in the morning and that’s why I was wearing such a formal dress. I said I was a business person but that when peace comes, we’ll all benefit.
(This blog post has no point, it’s just a nice story.)
She told me she’s on summer vacation and I asked where she went to school, and she said “Here,” pointing with her elbow. We were at Kfar Hayarok, next to the high school for gifted students.
“Oh, so you’re an outstanding student,” I said.
“Yea, I feel a little weird at the festivals, with all those high-school drop-outs,” she said, and told me her grade average to the 2nd decimal point. That’s how close it was to 100.
It’s funny, I noted. Because I’m a business person and I was at the Peace Festival too. There isn’t really such at thing as where we belong. I know that now. I’m not in high school.
“What are you studying?”
“Music and Machshevet,” she said. “Machshevet is Jewish philosophy.” That’s a much better explanation than my kids gave me. They said it was like Toshba (Jewish culture) which made me wonder why they have both. I still wonder why they have both, but at least now I know the difference. I told her that.
We talked about philosophy and literature and manifesting catching the bus instead of manifesting missing it by 2 minutes. Business people don’t talk about manifesting bus schedules. People who attend Peace Festivals do. They are really big earrings.
(It’s not even really that great a story, but I tell it well.)
She seemed much more well-read than I am. She also seemed much prettier than I ever was. If I were in high school with her, she would be my best friend. I would tell myself she’s prettier and smarter than I am and she would tell herself it’s good that there is someone like me who is as weird as her and doesn’t fit in. I’ve always been pretty and smart and she looks like she fits in just fine.
“I’ve never met someone who doesn’t know Hanoch Levin,” she said, and described his plays to me. It didn’t make me want to see them. She had to send a few texts while we were talking but much fewer than the average teenager. She didn’t have a fancy smartphone. She goes to a fancy school, though. I bet there’s a good story behind that.
We talked about teen literature, which she doesn’t read but I do. She’s grown out of it and I read it because my daughter is almost her age, and that’s what my daughter reads. I didn’t talk to her as if she was someone’s daughter. I didn’t wonder what her parents were like. I just talked to her as if she were exactly like me, just someone on the bus. Someone who would be my best friend if some kind of time warp were to happen. We talked about scifi. Neither of us read much scifi.
I gave her my card. She doesn’t have a card. I said, Facebook me or something. She got off the bus. I went up front to sit with a friend of mine who I saw when we got on the bus, but he was half-asleep then.
(Maybe it has a point. Maybe it has a few. But you’ll have to find them for yourself.)
After I got off the bus, I thought, I bet she has parents and I bet I’d like them. But I didn’t really care about that.
What I really thought was, I hope she adds me on Facebook. One day I won’t be that much older than she. Maybe I’m not that much older now. Friends can be any age. You know it when you find one.