Like a spy

I am infinitely adaptable. I feel it as I slip into a semblance of my old Chicago life and leave behind the me of Philadelphia - and yet the adaptation is not complete because I still remember, still compare to what was. On campus today, at the ATM in the student center I felt at home, until I saw the new card-value machine and the DVD rental kiosk. When did those appear? I snuck into the GSB computer lab, logged in and printed with Ethan's stolen password pretending that I belonged. I always feel underdressed surrounded by high-powered MBA students, my hair frizzy from the rain and my shoes falling apart. At least I had my corduroys on, my green sweater, my nice watch. But no one questions me. I have a password, I don't look too dodgy, I know my way around: I must belong. We take the train up to Belmont to eat cake - starting at 5500 south, up to 3200 north. The bottom half we are the only white people on the train. After downtown, we are reversed. Wrigley land, not Comiskey anymore. We spurn the Hopleaf (don't feel like drinking) for dinner but end up with wine and Italian food; at least we are consistent with dessert since we have each eaten a plate of cake and plate of frosting and filling. We go to see Thank You for Smoking for the second time, and for the second time end up seeing something else. With no popcorn. For me, reversion back to pre-Ethan. We are early, the first in the theatre and two minutes before the movie starts a couple asks us to move over one seat. We have been there for half an hour, playing cards, dead center; we move. Catch the bus home (was it still running? do we have enough for a cab?) pretend to fall into sleep. I don't stay up this late. I don't go out to movies and dinner every week. I don't debate the merits of mocha mousse on almond or hazelnut or chocolate cake. I don't spend two hours reading about cakes or florists or hotels. And yet this is how I spend my days, my week. Latin sits in a box, waiting for a moment to surface. I think it will be soon; I am in need of a change.