Information Related to "What Are You Waiting For?"
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I
wasn't sure if he was waiting for me, or just waiting for anyone. He
sat on an antique wooden bench and I almost walked by him without a second
thought. He was elderly, so much so that for a minute I thought he was
part of the ancient Roman baths I had been touring.
"Are you enjoying the museum?"
"It's nice," I said in a voice low enough to be considered a whisper.
"Where
are you from?" I paused for a moment and found myself intrigued by his
warm smile. His teeth formed two perfect rows but there was an unreal,
porcelain quality to them. But as artificial as they were, there was
also a certain genuine warm-heartedness and interest in that smile. "And
maybe your name as well?" he added.
"Ashley," I answered almost involuntarily. "And I live in Cincinnati, Ohio. It's, well, I am from the U.S." I regretted my inability to articulate the things in my head the second the words spilled out of my mouth. Although I assumed his residency from the thick accent, I asked where he was from as well.
"Oh, right here in Bath, England." He smiled again. I began to see his pattern of speaking, then smiling. "Have you tried the spa water yet?"
"Umm...no. Actually, I just came in. I haven't had the chance," I replied.
He laughed and then explained to me how he didn't blame me; it wasn't too appetizing. The ancients believed it was rejuvenating and could possibly bring a person closer to the gods. Then he said something that struck me as odd: "But I'm not worried. I know where I'm going when I die."
I nervously smiled and purposefully did not acknowledge the reference to heaven to avoid the discussion that might come with it. I quickly asked him how long he had lived there to move the conversation to another subject.
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