33. What was in the bag.

The sleeping vagrant was there, as was the old woman. Some new faces were to be seen as well. She sat down across from the vagrant, near the old woman, who looked a little alarmed, recognizing Nan and Sid from the day before.

Sid walked to the center of the circle defined by the benches. It was a pleasant summer day, and the sun streamed down upon everyone in the little park. The light illuminated Sid, making his black hair sparkle. Nan watched with fascination, as though thinking, this guy may be nuts, but he's charismatic. She had decided in her own mind that she would make a summer project out of Sid. If he was crazy, he didn't seem to be violent, and she could study the workings of his mind. Although she claimed to be in terror of turning into her parents, she was well on her way, gravitating toward psychology courses and having chosen the field for her studies.

If he wasn't crazy...she tucked a strand of her short, straight hair behind her ear and opened her notebook, filing away the idea. Let's see what he has to say today, she thought.

Sid said, "Once, there were two scholars. They were hotly debating a particular point--let's say they were mathematicians. Both of them were convinced that there was a specific solution, and neither would be dissuaded.

"They decided to go to an older professor to settle the dispute."

Some more people began to gather, drawn by the sound of Sid's voice. Nan scribbled notes in her little notebook. The old woman looked baffled, but perhaps a little relieved that this story wasn't about people being shot with arrows and dying.

"After hearing the argument the first scholar presented, he said, 'You're right.' The scholar was delighted, and gloated, leaving the room.

"The second scholar, disappointed, presented his reasoning. The old professor said, 'You are also correct.' The second scholar was pleased at this, though a bit puzzled, and walked out.

"One of the old professor's students happened to be in the room and had watched these exchanges taking place. He said, 'Professor, how can both of those points of view be correct? They are totally opposing points of view.'

"The old man smiled and said, 'You are correct too.'"

Sid looked around him. Nan frowned as she finished jotting down the parable.

The old woman stood up, more annoyed today than afraid. "Honestly, young man. You come here and bother people who are minding their own business with your silly stories. The one from yesterday was even more confusing. All that gore and whatnot."

She drew her purse to her chest. "You should leave people in peace." She walked past Sid, having spoken her mind.

Sid watched her walk away, and just when she'd reached the edge of the benches, said, "But you are not in peace." The old woman stopped, and slowly turned toward him.

Sid continued. "Look at all the things tormenting you. This morning you woke up, alone and in pain. You took half a dozen pills, the names of which you've memorized, because you have so little else to occupy you. You feel lonely because your children don't make any time for you, and your husband died ten years ago. But when he was alive you longed for him to be gone. When your children were young, you dreamed of a day you wouldn't have to take care of them. And now, when they do call, you have nothing to say to them, and you never call them, unless there's an emergency or a problem with your health."

The woman's eyes were wide and she was shaking slightly, still clutching her bag. Sid approached her. "What's in that bag?"

The old woman started. "What do you mean?"

Sid repeated himself, very gently. "Tell me what's in the bag."

"It's--I--I keep my keys, a magazine...my cell phone..."

Sid placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn't flinch. By this point a dozen people were watching. Nan sat taut, ready to intervene.

"The magazine is two months out of date. You've read it a dozen times, and never renewed the subscription. The cell phone is off. You have no friends."

The woman continued shaking. Her expression was now pleading, as though she was silently begging Sid to stop. He said, "What else is in the bag?"

A tear rolled down the old woman's face. She reached inside the bag, and brought out a handful of something white. It was crumpled paper. She brought out handful after handful of the stuff. Sid kept watching her eyes. As she emptied her bag of the wadded paper, tears continued to stream down her face.

Finally, when she had finished removing it all--in total about a dozen balls of paper--she looked up at him defiantly. Her bag now hung limply, a big container for practically nothing at all.

"Isn't this your whole life?" Sid asked. "How many different ways have you explained to yourself why you do that, filling up this big bag with something light but that will make it look full?"

The old woman, who was still standing stiffly, stifled a sob, turned, and left. Sid watched her go.