wished to do so. And perhaps I would not have been permitted to do so, not without permission. As our eyes had met, I should have smiled, approached him, and, as we are trained to do, asked if I might be of service. “May I help you, sir?” I could not do so. I felt as though it was improper, somehow, to be standing in his presence. That might be acceptable, even, appropriate, for some women, but, I suspected, not for me, not for a woman such as I. I tried to break this odd spell in which I felt myself bound. Should it not be easy enough to do? Was he not merely another modern man, another approved man, another permitted man, another joke on masculinity, another travesty on, and betrayal of, what might have been? How many bodies looked like those of men, and proved no more than a facade, behind which lay a shambles, pusillanimity or nothing. Surely many men would be as tall, as large, as narrow-waisted and broadly shouldered, as muscular, as darkly handsome, as large handed, as he. What then was different about him? He appeared agile, and strong, but do not many? How might he make his living? What skills might he have? I wondered about that. He seemed misplaced in this time, in this place. I thought he might seem one less familiar with escalators than mountains, less at home with engines and calculators than with horses and falcons, than with fire, bows, and steel. There seemed something about him of a foreign flavor. Had he spoken I would not have been surprised if I had detected the trace of an accent, but he did not speak. I tried to be amused that he wore his clothing awkwardly. It seemed tailored, and yet, somehow, ill-fitting. He did not seem at ease in it, certainly. Perhaps he would have preferred something less confining, something in which a man might move freely, with speed, and assurance.
He looked upon me.
I sensed he saw me as other men had not.
I sensed that he saw the slave within my garments.
How frightening it was to be so seen, so recognized, for what I was!
Surely I had misunderstood.
It could not be!
Then, at last, frightened, I had turned, broken away, and hurried, indeed fled, between the counters, the goods, the shoppers, to the other side of the store. My haste, I fear, attracted attention. I gasped for breath. That fearful moment, the interval of our interaction, brief but seemingly prolonged, which had seemed oddly fixed in time and space, must be swept away, and forgotten as soon as possible.
But I had been unable to forget.
How could I forget those keen, dark, quiet eyes which had so surveyed me, seeing me as I had sensed I had never been seen before?
Did he seem amused, that I might stand in his presence, presenting myself as though I might be a free woman?
I suspected he knew better.
Days I had spent, uneasy, distracted, ill at ease, remembering, struggling to brush aside the cruel insistencies of recollection; how often I censured myself for my misunderstandings, my foolishness. How easy it is to misconstrue and magnify the smallest incidents, the most meaningless things! Yet, too, somehow, I sensed the matter was not done. I had the odd sensation, from time to time, that I might be the subject of inquiries, that I might be under surveillance. Perhaps photos had been taken. Perhaps somewhere, in one place or another, I had been filmed, perhaps more than once. I dismissed, as I could, such apprehensions as unfounded, even absurd. But, too, at the same time, I found that my curiosity was engaged, and my vanity piqued. Might it be true that I was watched? I did not think so, but I thought I would play a game, one which might be amusing, one which might show me the absurdity of my fears. I would meet the matter directly, and pretend to myself that I was truly under surveillance, that I was beautiful enough and desirable enough to be subjected to such scrutiny. Accordingly, I began to give more attention to my appearance than was customary. I purchased new outfits and shoes. I was attentive to my movements and my expressions. It is a simple thing to sit and rise, to stand, turn, and walk with grace. Certainly I would not dare do otherwise now, here. And I probably could not, even if I wished it, given the training.