And the Kindle is my accomplice.
A few weeks ago, I decided to grab my Kindle and a cup of tea and just spend an hour alone during my lunch.
About half way through my break, a student walked by and sort of hovered over my table for a bit. I was engrossed in what I was reading and genuinely didn’t notice him at first. When I finally acknowledged him, I was honestly a little miffed. In my mind, if someone is sitting alone reading, it generally means they want to continue doing so without interruption.
I looked up.
“Hi!” he chirped, “reading anything good?”
He didn’t look familiar, and I couldn’t figure out why he’d cornered me like this. What had I ever done to him? Did I cut him off in traffic? Was he here to yell at me for not properly filing a request he’d submitted? I looked down at the title of the book I was reading. A Game of Thrones. Oh geez. He’s going to think I geek out over chain mail and tooled leather. Which, I do. But that’s not the point.
“Um, its, uh… The Unbearable Lightness of Being. By, ehhhmmmm….”
“Kundera!”
“Yyyyyyyeah-es, yes. Kundera.” Oh crap. What have I done? I’ve never read The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I don’t even know what it’s about. I just know there’s a floating bowler cap on the cover. But the Kindle doesn’t have book covers…. so he would never know unless… unless he’s read it and starts asking me for details about how I like it, etc, WHAT HAVE I DONE? I should just come clean and let him know that I’m a Renaissance Faire loving, motet-singing, damask silk wearing freak of-
“I’ve never read that. Is it any good?”
“It’s deep. Real deep.”
“Hm. Cool.” Awkward. Silence. “SO, do you like your Kindle? I’ve been thinking about getting one.”
“Oh yeah, for sure, it’s fantastic!” This, at least, was not a lie. I’ve had a small love affair with the contraption since the moment I realized I could read 86 books at a time and only carry the equivalent of a light paperback around with me. And, with the additional new discovery about being able to lie about what I’m reading, it just gained major points. “My parents were really generous for my birthday last year and got it for me. It’s… it’s kind of wonderful.” I gazed at it lovingly and hoped he would take that as a sign that we wanted to be alone.
When the guy finally got the hint, my break was nearly over. But something truly valuable was realized as a result: I can lie! And the Kindle is there for me! We are Bonnie and Clyde. We are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid! WE ARE SONNY AND CHER!
And now? Now I realize how lame my life is; I think that lying about what I’m reading is a daring and dangerous feat.
I think I need to go drink some mead.
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