Algebra on the Table

The conversation kind of drifted along. At the time, I remember thinking it odd we were talking, but there we were discussing Dallas and South Austin and the library off Riverside Drive and I suppose many other things. To tell you the truth, although it all seemed clear at the time, now it seems like a distant dream.

My legs have been sore from running and rowing, and so I splurged on a 40-minute massage. And we were having this conversation that I can barely recall while I was face down on the table and she was working on my legs. Periodically my sentences would stop, I would let out a contented sigh and then I would continue where I left off.

So there isn't much I remember from that conversation, except this: we talked about algebra. Algebra! I talked about algebra with my massage therapist.

Ok, ok. We didn't really discuss algebra, as in the aesthetics of factoring a polynomial or as in how the geometry of parabolas makes deriving the quadratic equation so pleasant to teach. Truth be told, she did most of the talking, and she was actually complaining.

I just never did understand why, she said. It just never made sense why I had to take algebra.

I know she was (deep down inside) really asking a question, and she wanted an answer. I know she really wanted to understand how her time and hard work was not for naught. And you know, if she were sitting here right now I could go on at length.

But I didn't respond. I couldn't.

You see, my legs have been sore from running and rowing, and she was working my left gastrocnemius and soleus, and it felt so good. As waves of euphoria ran thru my body, I searched for the words, I tried hard to formulate an explanation, but nothing came out. And so after a few moments of silent struggle I gave up and just said nothing.

It must have disappointed her greatly.

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