Thirty
“What’s it like being thirty?” said the girl. She had on black tights and a grey dress and sat beside the young man on a park bench in the heart of the city. They were pressed close together for warmth in the cool night.
“Oh, I mean, it’s good. I feel great. But I guess the funny thing is that I probably should have felt this way a long time ago.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well. Ok. The thing is, there was all this time that I was stressing myself out about the strangest things. Or at least, things that shouldn’t have stressed me out. Like paying rent.”
“Yeah, I could see that. Like you’ve experienced things now and you know generally how things will go.” said the girl.
“Right. I kinda know how they’ll go,” said the man. “I guess the only thing is I feel like I should have done more up to now, and I never should have been worried about things like paying rent. I had a friend that said to me a few years back that I should do whatever I most loved. That I should try to do the thing that I would do if I there was nothing to stop me from succeeding. It’s taken a long time for me to try to do that.”
“What is that exactly?” the girl said.
The man thought of all the kinds of things that people say in these situations and realized he had used them all before. He needed to be able to tell her, as best as he was able, only things that were very true.
“I guess,” said the man, “that the degree is what I’ve wanted to do. It’s not music. I thought I wanted that for so long and I still love it, but I guess I’m wanting to do something responsible. You know, something I can keep doing when I’m older. I could never see myself as a drummer for a band when I’m sixty you know?”
“Well. That’s good then.” The girl examined the man’s face carefully. “Is that everything?” she asked while gently digging her elbow into the man’s side.”
“No. It’s not all,” he said, leaning in to kiss the blushing girl.
