A Brief History Of Awkward Exits

The image above is almost certainly not a place I've ever been. But this is a story about a place much like that one, in Garland, Texas, which I visited more than once when I was in high school & afterwards.

For some reason, my high school American History teacher took a liking to me. Well. Maybe not a liking. I think he saw something in me he hoped to cultivate but unlike others in my class whom he more successfully influenced, I was an anomaly. He was conservative & quite Christian. I was not. He saw through a lot of my insecurities but chose to confront me with them in a more direct & stern way than was probably diplomatic - it just made me defensive. I was flattered that he, an adult, might be interested in me, but I left his home more than once absolutely baffled by the interactions I had.

The very last time I visited him, I was in my third year of college. I can't remember if I were invited or if I cold-called him. I believe it was in the fall, perhaps in September when I would come home for my mother's birthday. It had to be the weekend - he was still teaching so it would be a day off.

There are few things I remember about the encounter, but the weirdest one was that at some point, he just disappeared. I don't know if I missed some cues or he wasn't clear about what he was doing, but I was left in his patio area for a long period of time with no one interacting with me. His wife showed up as if out of nowhere & seemed surprised I was still there. We had a brief exchange & she asked me - as if she had listened to our conversation - if I were "a liberal." I said I guess I was. & that was all she said to me.

Eventually my old teacher reemerged, & I realized he had taken a nap. How long I had sat there I didn't know, but realizing how awkward it was, I said my goodbyes & left. The whole experience was so difficult & unpleasant I never spoke to him again. &, it must be noted, he never reached out to me either.

The internet in its limited knowledge tells me he's still alive. I'm certain he hasn't given me a thought in the intervening years - over thirty-five years it's been. I was one of a few students whom he tried to guide, none of whom I am in contact with, although I am certain they are still in contact with him. What little I know about their lives suggests they more happily fulfilled his ideas of what they should be than I did.

It wasn't my last awkward exit. It was almost certainly not my first. But the strange moments I spent sitting alone in that patio, wondering what was happening, unable to talk to anyone, not sure what I should do - that memory haunts me. That man attempted to influence my life in some way, but he did more by somehow not communicating to me effectively that he was going to take a nap & I should probably go than any lesson he might have shared from high school.

Truly since then in weird social situations I focus deep attention on the moments when I need to fucking leave.