She’s from England, I mean England England; it’s true to say that she’s from the UK, and it’s also true to say that she’s from England—both things are true of her—and I had no idea she felt that way about umbrellas until the first time we got caught in the rain together and I offered to share my umbrella with her and she said, “I don’t believe in umbrellas.”
Which no one had ever said to me before, and it made me a little worried because I realized I was going to have trouble guessing things she would want to hear me say and then saying them, not necessarily because I meant them but because I wanted to please, which was something I did a lot without admitting it to myself. I was surprised and I said, “What’s not to believe in?”
She said: “An umbrella keeps you dry by diverting all the water to roll away from you and onto other people. It’s an enemy of the collective good and I’d rather just wear a raincoat.” So we didn’t share an umbrella that day, or any day thereafter, even though we’ve been caught in the rain an awful lot since then.
A couple of things have changed since I wrote this title; she’s no longer my friend-who-goes-by-they but my girlfriend-who-goes-by-she. We live together, and shortly after we moved in I found an umbrella in the front hall closet. When I asked her about it, she said, “I think I got it from my last roommate,” then pursed her lips together and added, “Needless to say, you’ve never seen me use it,” which is another thing that’s true about her.