by Simon Cole
The woman I love is marrying another man this weekend.
I met Mariska at the start of our final semester in college. I’d made a mistake on my schedule and showed up for the wrong class. I walked through the lecture room door, surprised to see about 20 chairs arranged in a circle.
She sat there. It was just us. Her hiking boots shed melting snow into a slowly growing puddle at her heels. She didn’t care. She was jut there, present, waiting. There were 19 available seats.
I can’t tell you what it was that made me long to know her but I did. I chose the seat directly to her right. I sat and turned toward her.
Hi, my name is Simon.
Wow. You’re very friendly. I’m Mariska.
Not all the time. I just wanted to meet you.
There’s nobody else here to meet.
That’s true. Tell me why none of the buttons on your sweater match and I’ll leave you alone.
She did. I didn’t leave her alone.