• This was the first time I entered his room. Well perhaps not the first time, since I occasionally step into it before, but never even had a chance to enter and stay in his room for a long period of time. I am rather shocked at the state of it really, because at first glance the man who occupied it seems to do very little with the room at all. Only as a place to drink, smoke and then if rarely, sleep. He didn't live in here. Though this was only my first glance mind you.

    Upon further inspection, I took a deep look into what was in his room. Besides the couch and chair and several tables, there was of course the modern tv which was covered in a light layer of dust. I smiled and crossed my arms, he never did seem like the person to sit down and fully watch a T.V show anyway. Other than that the place seemed pretty much clean. Oh there was the occasional cigarette butt here and there, which I picked up absentmindedly and threw in the waste basket. But upon everything else the main living room looked like the clean cut front that everyone was so used to seeing.

    However, I did step into the bedroom; there I was caught a little by surprise. The bed had been torn up, with its covers a slew in odd angles. I giggled.

    "The man sleeps!"

    Oh that was an accomplishment really, because from the time I met him, he looked always haggard and always ready to drop into some sleeping coma any minute. Though that was not only my surprise, like the bed that was a jumbled up mess, the floor had been as untidy as ever. A few candy wrappers of a poor diet, and papers and pamphlets all about covering the floor. I picked one pamphlet up and examined it, it was one of the many musical programs that he attended with Liza. Though why should he keep these? It dawned on me. The man was a pack rat.

    Though, the question came at me again, when I sat on the bed and began picking up the papers around me. Why would a man who blatantly said he couldn't read, keep all these papers?

    "He was lying." I slowly smirked.

    When I approached him several months before and asked to take a look at the paper. He took it for a moment and what seemed like a quick look gave it back to me and scowled.

    "What's a matter?" I asked. He peered up over his shades to look at me, for he was sitting on the lounge couch smoking as always. Those green eyes looked at me and with an honest expression and voice he said plainly. "I cannot read a damn thing."

    I was flabbergasted that day and then to recover I made fun of him for being how old he was that he couldn't read. He didn't say anything at me and let me tease him as much as I wanted. Now I know why.

    He seemed to have the last laugh at it. And by the looks at it, since the papers that I am now holding are theological studies. The man would be busting his gut in laughter.

    I had to admit I giggled as well, since I like everyone else could be so easily fooled by this man. I dropped the papers and ventured into to the back of the room to view his closet. Once I opened I jumped back because several books were about to attack my head. About ten books had fallen out of massive lopsided pile on top closet self. There we go, I now had access to his hoard. The books were way more interesting than his constant day attire, of a shirt and tie and slacks. He never seemed to own any other articles of clothing. Maybe to ease the temptation of standing out by not owning anything different. I frowned, it was rather saddening to me, since I am learning very much from this visit.

    Back at the books, I picked them up and was amazed again. These were far from children books. They ranged from the educational of Plato, Chaucer, and Aristotle to the more free reads of Dickens, Card, Doyle and Steinbeck. Now I knew why the T.V was covered in dust. The books looked recently bent, and used for years.

    He was smarter then what he appears. To everyone was he was presented as an ordinary man that couldn't read and disliked the company of others. It was a sad existence and made me more intrigued in him. It was amazing to know that I come under the company of a very smart man. I cradled the worn copy of Dickens and sat down on the bed. When I started out this small examination, I thought I found the same boring man that everyone expected.

    But I was fooled.

    I knew what underlies the meaning this room. I can almost imagine him spending night after night reading, while other all around him ridiculed on his outer surface. While he, with the talent to so blatantly fool everyone keeps to himself. I am ashamed that I was fooled like everyone else because I saw the frontal image then the inside.

    It made very sad. It made me want to get to know the man that soon was going to be my husband in later years. But as of right then I didn't know it, but I knew my love from him, the man and his books was starting to grow.