The basement of Geisel Library has these super-sweet headphones that you can borrow with your student I.D. — the kind that curls around your ear and makes it so that Taylor Swift can serenade you as you write your e-mails and do your homework.
I tend to go into the library during the same times, so I see the same folks behind the receptionist counter. One woman in particular has a warm smile that can brighten the entire room.
“Hi there, could I borrow some headphones?”
“Sure”, she would say. Or: “sorry, we’re out.”
“Okay, no worries.” I knew her in no other context, although I would find myself hoping to see her again whenever I borrow headphones.
Then last Friday I saw her up in the town of Del Mar; apparently we both knew the birthday boy. We had a solid conversation about what we wanted to do with our lives in the backyard. She wants to be a middle school or high school teacher, “even if they’re a handful”. I didn’t have a straight answer myself, but I said something about education or healthcare looking interesting, since I’ve found that “uhh, I don’t know” never really gives anything for the other person to build off of or respond to in conversations (even if it’s true). She gave me her beer.
This morning she recognizes me. “Wesley, right?” I’m elated that she remembers, but now I feel doubly bad for not remembering hers. Most library employees wear a name tag, but she is not wearing hers today. (Of course that would happen). I remember everything else!! I wanted to say.
“Nancy, right?”
“It’s Haley.”
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There are bigger things to worry about in the world, but it’s still embarrassing.