I Shook His Hand

Two teenaged girls go to the Met in 1974. What could possibly go wrong?

Susie begged her parents to let her go to NYC. Our plan was to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue. Her folks were obsessively protective of their three girls, and seemed to think the whole world was a very dangerous place. They lived an isolated life in their little green suburban house. When I would visit her, I’d think how weird it was that the curtains were always drawn shut. No looking in or out. From the inside the house always felt too small, as if the ceilings and walls were closing in on me.  

Susie was the smartest kid in school, and at 13 she’d never been to a museum. Her parents limited her exposure to reading and some TV. She could learn about everything in books, but only if they approved her choices first. My situation was the opposite. My folks were devoted to culture and introduced me to all that the arts had to offer, and they gave me a lot of freedom. They trusted me. We went to museums, ballet, and theater all the time. And I could read anything I was interested in.

We convinced her parents that it would be okay, we’d be safe. But we didn’t tell them the whole story. We said that my mom would be with us, we’d have a chaperone. The truth was my mom was dropping us off at The Met and going on to an appointment. She’d pick us up a couple of hours later in her cool gold Volvo and drive us back to Long Island. Susie’s parents never would have agreed to let her go if they knew we would be on our own. We wanted to be on our own. That was part of the excitement.

Mom dropped us off at The Met. We climbed the stairs leading up to the main entrance, and walked into The Great Hall, with its soaring ceilings; a vast, cavernous space. I felt so small in there. We joined the line of visitors, exchanged our donations for the little red and white metal buttons branded with the museum’s logo. We proudly clipped them to our coat lapels, proof that we belonged. Susie seemed a bit anxious, but I think it was mostly her excitement.

We took the Great Hall steps and headed toward the elevators on the 2nd floor. I pushed the button and the doors opened. The two of us stepped inside. We had the elevator all to ourselves. The doors began to close, and at the last moment, a man slipped inside with us. He was tall, with dark hair and olive skin, and stood right next to us, too close for the large empty space we occupied. He turned toward us, offering his hand for a shake, and said,

“Hi, my name is Lou.”

He had an accent I didn’t recognize. Neither one of us knew what to say, so we said nothing. The vibe was creepy, and we didn’t shake his hand. We got off the elevator on the third floor, and so did Lou. He walked off in a different direction, and relieved, we turned a corner and began exploring this house of treasures. We saw Egyptian Art and Greek sculptures. Gold painted sarcophagi and towering Greek gods, noses and arms sometimes missing, but impressive all the same. We moved on to another floor, and as we entered the hall of old oil paintings, I caught a glimpse of Lou. He was watching us, hovering. A chill went through me, and my mouth dried out. I felt like something was wrong, dangerous, but I didn’t trust my inner voice. It didn’t occur to me that I could have sought help. There were guards who stood like statues around every corner of the museum, so still that they almost blended in. A fleeting thought moved through my mind, if I tell someone, I’ll get in trouble. Except for the guards, even though it’s highly unlikely, I don’t recall seeing other people.

We whispered to each other, both freaked out, and kept moving. I wanted to protect her, but I didn’t know how. We made our way back down the Grand Staircase, after rushing through some of the exhibits, looking over our shoulders everywhere we walked, barely taking in the art around us. I wondered for a moment if he was just a friendly guy. Maybe I was over-reacting? That it was just a coincidence that we kept seeing him everywhere we went.

I kept telling myself there was nothing to worry about. But I couldn’t shake the feeling there was. We went to the gift shop to browse and kill time until my mom picked us up. There were lots of people there, so it felt safe. We wanted souvenirs, maybe as a consolation prize for the trip that wasn’t turning out the way we’d hoped. I picked out a couple of postcards, and a small reproduction of an Athena statue, because I’d read in my mythology book that she was brave and smart. Talismans have always held meaning for me, even as a child. Susie chose a beautiful, flowered scarf for her mom.

She was ahead of me in the checkout line, and as I stood, waiting for my turn, I felt something hard against my butt. I turned around slightly and there was Lou. In that instant, I understood. He was rubbing up against me, and I froze in place. I didn’t say stop, I didn’t jump off the line, I didn’t shout for help. I just stood there, and finally edged away from him when it was my turn to pay. The whole thing lasted maybe 10 or 15 seconds, but my sense of time was skewed, and it felt endless. I made my purchase, gripping Athena tightly in my left hand. I looked for him again, but he was gone. We left the shop to wait for my mom in the Great Hall.

As we were walking toward a seating area, Lou approached me and said hello again. He asked me where I lived. I said nothing. He extended his hand toward me, he wanted me to shake his hand. Staring me down, a broad grin on his face, conveying his expectation that I accept, he was letting me know that he’d won. He said,

“It was so nice to meet you.”

He inched his outstretched hand closer to me. I didn’t know what to do. Paralyzed with fear, I wanted to yell but had no voice at all.

I shook his hand.

Why did I do that, I asked myself, angry at my weakness and my fear. I walked away, upright and moving at a measured pace. But I wanted to run. I was afraid he might chase after me, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of revealing to him how terrified I was. He wouldn’t pursue me with so many people around. Would he?

I wiped off the wetness of his palm on my pants leg, shivered, and tried to shake off the feeling of ick that crawled up my spine, the shudder of revulsion that moved through my body. I didn’t look back, because I knew he was standing there waiting for me to turn my head, to see him smiling at his victory. I was tainted by his touch, and everything that came before it. I wasn’t even sure what had occurred. And I wondered if I did anything to cause it. I’m pretty sure I stopped being a kid that day.

We found a place to sit, in full view of all the people coming and going. We kept looking for him, but he’d disappeared. Susie begged me to never tell anyone what happened. She said if her parents found out, they’d never let her out of the house again. I knew that was true. I never said a word to anyone.

My mom arrived, upbeat and excited, wanting to hear about our adventure, wanting to know how we did. Did we love it? What did we see? What was our favorite part? We told her it was great. We told her we had fun. We told her we couldn’t wait to do it again.

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