Hit With Shrapnel

This is what I imagine when someone out of the blue is rude to me, as if I’ve just gotten hit by accident being in the line of someone’s not so friendly fire.

It happens often…too often, the latest with Carmela, the basset’s, dad.

For those of you who don’t know, Carmela and her familia (they’re Spanish) are neighbors of mine and I’ve fallen head over high heels with Carmela aka Tubala, their one year-old basset hound.

Her father has always been very nice to me, so before I go on, just note I’ve given him miles of leeway despite his unexpected shun, a term my friend Amy taught me, meaning to be painfully ignored and avoided.

It’s a shame really, because now I won’t be so comfortable in his presence, the biggest downside of a drive-by shooting. You keep looking for that gun about to play a ra-tat-tat encore.

He shunned me when I bounded over to say hello, something I always do knowing if he’s out, Carm must be in close vicinity. Clearly something was wrong, but I truly wasn’t prepared for the chill I received.

He muttered something walking right by me like we didn’t remotely know each other.

As you know, I’m very thick skinned, which is why I wept for three quarters of an hour and called all my friends.

Camille will always ask, “If I told this to you, what would you say?”

“That he probably was upset over something and I got him at a very bad time?”

“Bingo,” said Sigmund Freud, “now let’s shop.”

Sensitivity is great for your art, but not daily life. I’ve been licking my wounds over this despite my, or rather Camille’s, trumped up clarity.

Transference I believe is what it’s called when one incident exhumes another, or hundreds in my case.

Rejection rises like a dust storm…all those times the guy didn’t want me, and when I didn’t get that coveted job. My mother makes a cameo telling me what a big nothing I’ve turned out to be, the very last words I heard her indelibly say.

Whoever thought that one sneer could be so concentrated having the thickness of crude oil.

“You’re a Cancerian Italian from Connecticut,” Camille reminded me when I said I was draping black crepe over the blazer I wore when I walked Carmela. “What do you expect?”

Yesterday while crossing the avenue, I notice this aging hippy on a bright red Harley stopped at the light smiling at me beneath his Cape Canaveral helmet. He looked as if he was about to lift off, right there on 80th Street.

Lo and behold, after doing my best…pretend you don’t notice…realized it was Carmela’s father looking like The Wild One, just four decades later. He’s seventy if he’s a day.

By the time I realized who it was, he had zoomed by.

Hmm, I thought, maybe now he’ll know what it’s like to be hit by shrapnel on a very sunny day when you least expect it.

But to be quite honest, it hurts too much, and I don’t ever want to be the sniper in his life, or anyone’s life for that matter, with such bad aim.  images-3





About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in animals, Family, friendship, humor, New York City, Women and men and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

16 Responses to Hit With Shrapnel

  1. skinnyuz2b says:

    Oh, Susannah, I know exactly how you’re feeling. One little dagger to the heart has the ability to dull the brightest sunshine on our soul. I hope your wound heals quickly.


    • One little dagger to the heart has the ability to dull the brightest sunshine on our soul. I love that skinny…I’m very sensitive, too much so, ever since I was a kid. My mother loved telling the story of when I was little and my feelings got hurt, I’d run to my room and rock furiously in my mini rocking chair. I’m still rockin it seems 🙂


  2. micklively says:

    Sorry you got snubbed. You always seem to learn the hard way that not everyone is as nice as we are. Maybe he’s jealous ‘cos Carmela likes you better than him. Or maybe his wife is giving him a hard time whenever she see you two talking. The possibilities are numerous. Few are a good reason to beat yourself up.


    • Yeah, didn’t see it coming. He’s always so charming and amiable. I think he was having a bad day, and since I’ve been having one for months, the smallest thing sets me spinning. Wish I were tougher, but at my age one can assume that ship has sailed. Thanks Mick.


  3. I hate that situation, either when someone does it to me or when I realize I’ve done that to someone else. It can be awkward the next time you meet. I hope you can restore normalcy with him soon.
    Once, on the last day at a school, one of the office workers wanted to shake my hand but he offered his hand in a way that made it look like he was pointing at something. I was confused so I just mumbled something and left, realizing later what he was going for. I felt terrible, but it was too late. I did meet him years later and shook his hand, which helped make up for it in my mind.


    • Things are rarely what they seem, I know this better than anybody being in the business I’ve been in for so long. I’m hoping I can restore normalcy, as you so nicely put it, sooner than later.


  4. katecrimmins says:

    I agree that it was transference and it wasn’t about you. I went to Starbucks this morning and something was going on. I was totally ignored (very unusual) and the manager was saying (to one of the baristas), “You don’t have to take that. I don’t care if we lose a nasty customer!” Everyone was all buggered up and quite upset. I didn’t take it personally. I just got my coffee and got the hell out of there. I think you should give it another try. Carmella is worth it!


    • I just went to see her lolling on the lanai. No one was around but one of the housekeepers who waved from the kitchen. I know you’re right…twas not about me, and I will give it another try…you bet 🙂


  5. MJ says:

    How hurtful! But I’m so glad that you’re persisting, Susannah. I think Carmela would grieve, as dogs do, if you stopped coming by. God knows what prompted el senor’s behavior, but that sighting on the motorcycle seems like a clue from Divine Providence. Evidently he’s at least somewhat eccentric and volatile, maybe even a Picasso on wheels. My guess is that he was seeing the WORLD in bold strokes, not you, when he cut you on the street that day. When you saw him on the bike, that smile may have been his version of an apology .


  6. MJ says:

    I’d almost capitalized it, but one of my better angels intervened to prevent the blasphemy.


  7. My first instinct was that jealously was involved. He might not be able to handle that Carmella’s large ears and droopy eyes are much more attractive than his bike & bank account will ever be.


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