A short distance from me there sits a woman wearing a white sweatshirt with appliqué maple leaves over a black turtleneck decorated with little orange pumpkins. She is seasonally festive. She is also seasonally ill. She keeps coughing in a wet duck-call sort of way and her cough drop clicks against her teeth as she moves it around with her tongue. I wish she'd cover her mouth.
Friendly Biology Professor is on the next bench over. She's working on her laptop, as she always does, with her turbulent mass of salt-and-pepper hair in a loose bun, and cat socks and purple Crocs on her feet. I suspect she's a Mormon, but I can't confirm that yet.
To my right the Floor Sitter is sitting on the floor. It's a little unusual for an adult to sit on the floor, but he must be more comfortable that way because he and his t-shirt and sweatpants are lodged in the same spot every week. Maybe he has trouble with his back. Floor Sitter plays games on his smartphone while he's waiting for class to be over. He has the same smartphone case as I do: orange and pink. I wonder why he's ok with pink. Maybe it's not really his phone.
On the farthest bench is a lady I've never seen before. She looks to be in her 70s and she has brought her entire sewing kit with her. She stores her needles and pins in one of those amber-colored pill bottles you get from the pharmacy and she's taking up her grandson's pants while she waits. She just smiled at me. I wonder if she noticed that I'm watching her.
Coughing Lady has finally stopped coughing and is now filing her fingernails. I wish she'd stop doing all of these things, including the sweatshirt.
Floor Sitter is just getting up toddler-style, with his butt in the air and his hands pushing off from the floor. Wow. He's big. He looks around, leans on a folding chair, then sits down again. I wonder what he's looking for.
Blond Karate Lady just walked in. Her son is a brown belt and so is she. She's a manager of the facilities department at some Maryland school district, but she wanted to do something for herself for once, so she signed up for karate a few years ago. Floor Sitter just asked her if she could see his son anywhere in the classroom. She looks through the classroom windows from her chair while he pretends to look from his spot on the floor. Neither of them can see Son. Floor Sitter says "huh" and goes back to playing solitaire on his smartphone. She opens a book.
Man in Black, who is sharing a bench with Sewing Lady, has just tried to point out Floor Sitter's son, who is talking with a teacher down the hall. I can hear Son explaining that he accidentally locked himself in the bathroom stall for a few minutes because the lock was rusty. But Floor Sitter isn't listening to Man in Black, so Man in Black gives up and turns back to his own smartphone.
A little while ago Coughing Lady got up and left with her purse, which really got my hopes up. But now she's back and hard at work again with that damn nail file. A few minutes have passed. At last she's put the nail file back in her purse and let out a big wet cough. Maybe that was the grand finale.
Man in Black is explaining smartphones to Sewing Lady while she hems. He's telling her about Facebook and how he can even be friends with his relatives in Canada. When she responds to him her voice sounds like a little girl's and I turn to look at her again. It doesn't match her face at all.
There are ten minutes left of class. Liam is practicing a new kata. It's really beautiful. Students begin arriving for the late session and heading for the changing rooms. All of us waiting in the hallway have gone quiet. Everyone is tired. Coughing Lady hacks out another wet one and then falls mercifully silent. The kids in the classroom sway back and forth like trees in a storm—grace with lethal intent, if not yet lethal force. They chant the closing creed, bow, and pour out of the classroom into the waiting hall.
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