When I laugh , things became more clear.
It is my habit to let my thoughts and perceptions
move freely, like an autumn leaf being carried
downstream. They bounce impersonally around,
pausing in places when they get hung up on
something or another, but they keep moving, not
pausing long in a particular place. Hearing my own
laughter suddenly brings my focus to the here and
now. Like it did that April afternoon.
I was making a presentation in a conference
room to a group of new co-workers whom I had not
met. This is one of my favorite things to do-to
appear to be in charge, to control the attention of
others, to make them laugh and pay attention to me.
Make them like me. I do it well, and people often
remark to me how natural I seem in front of an
audience. I always smile when I hear that. No one
truly understands what a selfish, yet transcendent
experience it is for me. There I am, making like a
leaf. I emit words, jokes and physical expressions
that move most of those who listen to me. It is
spontaneous, unthought action. It is always right.
It is as if I am the instrument of a very deft
musician. I am powerless to do anything but marvel
at the wondrous sounds I can produce.
He sat at the end of the conference table.
I did not notice him at first. That leaf thing again.
I turned my attention to each person-I went from
individual to individual around the table, and asked
them about themselves. Ihad asked them to fill out a
form asking them about their last job, their favorite
color, favorite movie. I also asked them to write down
three things about themselves, one of which must be a
lie. When it is their turn, they readtheir responses,
while rest of the group goes about trying to guess
which is a lie. This infantile ploy is a tool of mine.
I designed it not only to bring the group together, but
to give me an opportunity to play off of them for a
laugh. That day, everyone played perfectly into my
hands, saying things innocently, allowing me to poke
good-natured fun at them. I came off as being
interested in them, as well as being witty and
intelligent. Until I got to him.
His eyes were the blue of a gas flame. Cool,
intense, appraising. His pupils remained small, and
they fixed on my eyes, trapping me. I smiled a non-
committal smile, and cleared my throat.
"So, Gary, tell us a little about yourself."
He looked down at his paper in a parody of
humility. "My favorite movie is Pulp Fiction, my
favorite color is blue, and uh, let's see..." He
stalled for a few seconds while he tried to concoct
the one lie out of three that I asked for.
"I hate baseball."
"I am a risk taker."
"I am looking for the love of my life."
Others in the group had spoken to him earlier,
and knew that he was a great Yankees fan. They
correctly guessed that the dismissal of baseball
was his lie.
He grinned like a little boy, and admitted,
"I am a rabid fan of the game, especially when it
comes to the Yankees."
"That's probably why you are still looking for
the love of your life!" I crowed, unable to resist
the opening. I laughed with the others at my own joke.
At his expense.
He smiled self deprecatingly, looked down, and
shook his head at his folly. Then he looked up at me
with his strangely warm, icy eyes. I laughed harder.
That's when I saw it. The flash of truth. I stopped
laughing. He knew exactly what I had been doing, and
wanted me to know it. He had walked into my world and
moved me around in it without my having had a clue.
I felt a not altogether unpleasant chill, inexplicably
accompanied by a very warm, red sensation moving
up my face. He raised an eyebrow, and held his
small smile. He knew that I knew, and was satisfied.
Disarmed, I could do nothing but move on. The others
in the room continued to chuckle good naturedly, not
aware of what had transpired.
