Sunday Afternoon “She comes here often,” the man said, motioning to the older woman standing across from them. “Why?” Julia also came to get a bite in the park often, but she had never seen this lady before. No one else seemed to notice the woman, so she figured she might ask the hot dog man whose cart had been stationed in the same spot since Julia could remember. “Dunno,” the hot dog vendor walked away, but Julia couldn’t help but stare at the woman. Amidst the mélange of people that constantly strolled through Central Park, this woman’s serenity and calm juxtaposed the constant bustle of the crowd. Her outfit was pristine and well-matched. She looked as if she was going to have her portrait taken. She was staring longingly into the reservoir, her pose just perfect to be photographed. The longer Julia stared, the more she could penetrate this woman’s façade of perfection. Although her focus clearly resided into the reservoir, her eyes seemed disengaged from the rest of her body. Julia recognized this because it was something she tended to do when she dealt with pain of her own. Her face was expressionless and blanketed with wrinkles emerging from her collar and crawling up until they disappeared into her flurry of white hair. She remained extremely still except for occasionally reaching to adjust her collar to a perfect angle. Julia felt compelled to talk to the women, and without knowing why, began walking towards her. She was a few steps back when she stopped directly behind the woman. She had no idea what she was going to say to her. She seemed like she didn’t want to be bothered. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The woman said suddenly. Julia took a step backwards. How did the woman know she was there? “You know, it’s funny how people act when they think you can’t seem them.” Unsure of how to respond, Julia took another step forward. “This used to be my favorite place to come. My mom would bring me every Sunday afternoon.”
Pillars of Salt 29
