Who is Sheila?

I was on the train the other day, and sitting next to me was a thirty something man in a suit typing away frantically on his Blackberry. I don't think I have ever looked over a stranger's shoulder to see what he was texting- to read the paper, or a celebrity gossip page, yes- but a text, no. But the intensity with which he was typing those keys made me curious.

I had a thought, here is this man, nicely dressed, seemingly professional, maybe he was having phone sex right there during rush hour. It's very likely, and none of my business, but I felt compelled to get the dirt. It's times like these that make me think I should have been a journalist. I have an unquenchable thirst for other people's business. And the naughtier the better.

What I saw was much better than some Tantric sex message, it was thought provoking. The woman, I'm assuming because the character was identified on the Blackberry as Sheila, had written "no hablo ingles". And from what I could surmise, he had responded, "This is ridiculous, Sheila if I lose you in three months I will wither away."

In three months I will wither away...why three months? Is there a statute of limititations on broken hearts? I've been rejected before, and I don't think I could ever put a time line on it. Maybe I misread it completely, he might have been up for a kidney transplant and she was a spurned donor.

He wrote a few more messages and I was able to read them before getting caught, but nothing that came after was quite as juicy as the above line. It made me think about this Sheila character, and I found myself getting jealous. I've never had anyone say to me without you I'll wither away. What did she have that I didn't? I started to imagine what Sheila looked like. I saw a voluptuous, dark, South American woman. It's always the exotic ones that get all the glory.

Then it all started to make sense. This man was obviously married and Sheila was his Brazilian mistress who spoke little English. She was only using him for the nice gifts and possible citizenship. But she had decided if he wasn't going to leave his wife, she would no longer communicate with him in the few English words she did know. I now realize the fault in that, because I think Brazilians speak Portuguese. Okay, she was his Colombian mistress. That makes sense and he was being forced to go back to his cold and bitter wife.

I watched him get off the train, his face calm and stoic, like nothing had happened. And then I thought, I'd leave the cold bastard too. My jealousy for Sheila turned to pity. All she wanted was love and a green card. How can anyone so calculating be capable of what she deserved?

I later told my friend about the incident and she said, "Awww..that's sweet" and I said, "Awww that's co-dependency."