written: charlotte
date: 2 July 2002
note: short piece; I was in a certain mood when beginning, then it faded. It is meant as a character study and it shall remain unfinished.
- - - -
My hands moved over the clear glasses, my silver ring clinking softly against the top of a small shot glass as they busied themselves with the preparation of a drink. She was singing, Nina was, her deep voice smooth and experienced as her words flowed from between her parted lips. He was playing the piano, the boy with small tan hands, chestnut hair slipping silkily to rest above his left eye. He had lost himself already in the music, something dainty and sweet, something rich bleeding from his fingertips.
The drink was slid to the man in the leather trench coat, the black material reflecting odd shapes beneath the dim lamps. I had watched him walk in only moments before, and I let my gaze follow the way he walked, how his coat flared elegantly with the air that was brushed past. Coldly handsome, with rough features that spoke of man, of large hands, of a half shaven cheek, of deep cobalt eyes that flicked against mine and dropped to the counter. I gently tucked a piece of auburn hair behind my ear as I moved away. My white tank clung to my breasts in the warm air. It was comfortable for my guests, the way it slid lazily across the room in little circles, but I was tired of it, having felt it all evening. I stepped toward the small fan, brushing invisible particles off of my faded jeans, suddenly wishing they weren't so snug.
"A daiquiri, please. Strawberry."
I did not immediately glance up at the sound of her voice, though I had always wanted to hear it. It was soft, timid. It matched the way her wavy, dark hair hung demurely against her face, rose spotting her pale cheeks. I leaned my arms upon the counter, identical to hers, and cocked my head, matching her shy posture as I spoke quietly.
"You know, this is the first time you've ever ordered anything."
"I'm not a drinker, really. I like coming here because it's cozy and dark."
I slipped away with a smile, turning to create her liquor berry concoction. Her black eyes watched my movements; I could feel them study the way I stood, one hip jutting out, one leg straight, how my fingers bent and twisted against objects, the strands of hair that were determined to be free of my tiny clips.
"Enjoy," I said as I sat the tall glass in front of her with a flourish.
"I'll have another." He was still sitting upon the crimson stool, his coat still hunched against his firm shoulders. He had been observing the others around him with a blank face. I was unsure as to what he had been thinking. Did his mind register the girl only two seats away? The sultry singer with laugh lines accompanying her eyes? The blond woman with a red mouth in the corner speaking privately with her dark companion?� After his tiny glass was refilled, the girl watched the way he lifted it to his lips without looking at the copper liquid. I imagined it was something of a romantic notion, sitting amidst others, all alone, knowing the exact measurements of the counter to your mouth, the taste of bitter.
She turned away and slipped at her drink, adjusting the slender strap of her dress upon her shoulder. He was suddenly there. The boy slid upon the red leather with that quiet grace that he possessed. I wish I were that talented. Those emerald eyes gazed into mine, silently ordering his usual. I nodded with a smile and turned to make his drink. The cold man was not alone now, and with a peek at his face, I watched his dark brows twitch, an irritated glance pop and fade.
"Why are you here?" The boy did not ask it harshly, only with a soft curiosity. She blushed pretty pink with his attention and responded that she enjoyed the solitude and anonymity that this little haven offered.
"You've been hurt by a lover, then?"
I was still and observed her reaction. She turned her white face up towards him slowly.
"No," she answered with a smile, "I never had a lover to worry me. There's just something about this place that keeps me coming back."
"To love and to be loved; this is a great thing. You shouldn't be alone all the time."
Ah, the chemistry was immediate, though not flashing electric. I handed the boy his drink, resting my arms upon the counter once again as I looked at the pair. I thought about them leaving to her artsy city flat, or maybe it was small cottage overlooking a lake, and wondered how long it would take to slide between her sheets. One shy, both shy, makes for awkward conversation and even stranger lovemaking.
[ unfinished ]