One Chair Left

Don't go, come back! she said, as she passed me, dressed in her Sunday best, clutch under her arm, perfectly coiffed hair, and a bright smile painted on. 

I gave a polite laugh as I headed up the stairs in the opposite direction, YouTube open blasting Need You Now by Plumb on my phone. The requisite mask dangled from my other hand, taken off as soon as I had reached the 174 steps that led up the hill to my underground bomb shelter basement. 

How could I explain to her that as I had headed towards the crowd of people, two cupcakes in my hand from a birthday celebration, that I was leaving because of a chair? It all sounded rather silly, anyhow. 

I'd decided to stay for church even though my husband wouldn't be coming as he had been up early to share with another church over Zoom. Yet again, I would be sitting alone but I was used to it. I went to the lawn where everyone was gathering for outside church and scanned the audience for an empty chair. There were a few, scattered here and there, mostly next to someone, but then I spotted it. 

A solitary plastic beige chair in the sunshine by the tree that towered above everyone, providing shade from the midmorning sun. I made up my mind and started to walk towards it, planning to take the chair and move it to a shadier spot. In my horror, as I walked the 20 or so steps in its direction, I realized that another woman was also heading in the same direction. I could not stop my trajectory, or I would have looked awkward, but I was just a little too slow. She reached the chair before me, and, not realizing I also wanted it, tucked it under her arm and marched away. I stopped and looked around, pretending to look for someone. I scanned the empty chairs again. I didn't want to do the awkward, Is this chair reserved? dance and end up looking stupid because it was, so in a split second I made my decision. 

I turned and headed towards the stairs. I was going home.