The car was orange, bright orange. It was one of those curvy convertibles that probably came from Europe. The license said "SUNSHINE". I wasn't sure who would drive a bright orange curvy sports car with a plate of SUNSHINE. It was a Louisiana plate, but maybe they're from Florida?
I stood in the parking lot staring at the car. I mean, it was there amid the dark blue minivans and silver luxury cars, and green clunkers. The car just seemed so alien, so out of place.
"Hi," said a voice from behind me.
I startled out of my reverie.
"It's a great car, isn't it?"
The speaker was a woman in jeans and an over-sized yellow T-shirt. The shirt said, "SMILE!" She looked to be maybe fifty. Her long hair, streaked with gray, ran down her back. She carried a shopping bag which she tossed in the back seat of the SUNSHINE car.
"It certainly is different," I said. "Are you from Florida?"
"No, honey," she said, laughing a little.
"Why the SUNSHINE plate?" I asked, then immediately thought better of it. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business."
"Don't worry about that, hon," she said. "Don't you think there should be more sunshine in the world?"
"I guess," I said.
"You're judging me, aren't you?" she said, leaning back against the car. As I sputtered, she said, "Don't worry, hon. Everybody does. Everybody tries to put me in a box. Nothing to be ashamed of."
Who strikes up conversations like this with strangers in parking lots?
"Aren't you worried I'm a crook?" I asked. "Aren't you afraid I might hit you over the head and take your car? Maybe kidnap you?"
"Oh, hon, I'm so sorry for you," she said. "Let's see, did you put me in the old-lady-trying-to-act-young box? Or do you want me in the crazy-old-girl-with-too-much-money box? Or the hippie-who-doesn't-know-the-60s-are-over box?"
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't think I'm trying to put you in a box. I don't know what kind of box you'd fit in. I don't know you at all."
"And now I'm not as sorry for you as I was," she said.
"You like standing out, don't you?" I said. "The car. You're look. I think my wife would say you're too old to wear your hair that long."
"No, I don't like standing out, hon," she said. "I just think that I should. Most people who stand out now are the kind of people who hit people over the head. I don't want them to be the only ones who stand out."
She paused a minute, then started, "When stuff happens..."
She shook her head, then said, "Well, I hope you have more sunshine, hon."
"I'd like that," I said.
She climbed into the car, saying, "And now, I'm not sorry for you at all."
This work by Timothy H. Ruppel is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
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