Either I got too tired, had a presentation to make or I just wasn't doing the right things and so these will never develop. Abstract modern literature or a chance to organise my writings. These may never be anything so I thought I'd give some of them a little hope by putting them up here.
The night was mildly pleasant and the waves crashing on to the stones were vaguely calming. She didn't think too much as she sat down on the bench next to him. The man, who had been staring at the ground willing the grass to grow, turned to see if he knew her. He met her quizzical eyes halfway and held her gaze. They had stared too long now, to not say anything.
“Hi” she starts.
“Hey”
She leaned forward and further scrutinized him. He was quite visibly unnerved.
“Your eyes. They're are watering” she pointed out. She really didnt want to say that.
“Its warm” he replied as he turned away.
“It’s December”. She said it before she could stop herself.
“Yeah well, global warming and all that.”
She laughed quite pleasantly surprised. “Well, as long as you’re okay”
He nodded and gives her a thin wan smile, before promptly returning to his staring contest with the intangible.
Fair enough, she thought.
Presently a jogger came by, illuminated intermittently as he passed each streetlight. He paused when he saw her. He walked up to the bench and spoke. “Hey D, hows it going?” he said, breathing heavily.
“I’m pretty good K, thanks. You?”
“Good, good. But look, I’m sorry, I have to keep on track with my regime. I’ll speak to you in a while. Ok?” he turned and walked off.
“I haven't finsihed reading your book yet” she called to his retreating back. K waved back with a chuckle.
She turned and saw the man who had been watching this exchange. “Jealous?” she asked
“Envious actually. That was one fit chap.”
“Did you see his chiselled jaw?”
“I was too busy noticing the sweat that he spilt on the pavement, but he is certainly quite the Adonis.”
“I could introduce you two…”
“I’m a poor swimmer. I’d drown in those eyes of his”
They paused in their verbal jousting to assess the situation. Two people carefully weighing the other up. A pause, poignantly pregnant enough to demand it be cut short. It was him that spoke first.
“So, D is it?”
“It is. Plain old D”
“So, what brings you out to this corner of the beach, plain old D?”
“Well, the fact that it is a fine day for one thing” she said airily. Then she gave him a serious look “And I think I can guess why you’re here”
“Ummm.”
You’re dressed smartly wearing all black, even a coat, with your eyes watering”
“From the heat”
“I think it a safe bet that it might have bee a wedding you were at. Were you close?”
“We…were”. He fumbled.
She launched in with admonishment brandishing from her lips. “It’s always hard to lose somebody close to you. Ummm, I have. And felt… broken, for a long, long time. There’s no real advice to give or words to help. Just try and distract yourself with your favourite things”
He gave her an incredibly wry look “Unfortunately my favourite thing involves a woman”. His attempt to cut her off.
She returned his look non-plussed “And dare I ask the specifics.”
“It has a stupid name that does it no justice at all. The only way you could understand is if I show you.” He wanted her to stop. Why wouldn't she just let him be.
“Does it involve your hands, or mouth or ... midsection?”
“No, no and no.” He couldn't help but smile.
She took a deep breath and said “Fine, at the risk of disappointing feminists everywhere.... Show me.”
He reached over. Moved a step closer. He slowly and carefully lowered his head to hers and rested it against her forehead. The bridges of their noses touched and formed a link between them and their eyes, inches apart, stared long and deep. His watering but never quite tearing. Hers staring steadfast. Then he lowered his head still further so it rested on her short hair and their cheeks met. She felt him breath slow and steady and hot into her ear.
And just like that he pulled away, fresh stubble scratching her face in the retreat.
“Sorry.”
“That’s ok,” she said presently.
“I was thinking about K’s bulging abs at the time”
She smiled “That would explain the other bulge then” she said, pointing down.
He looked confused but then his eyes went wide as he realised the implication. “Hey, that’s just Paranoid Android” he said hurriedly.
She gave him a stern look. In response he tried to pull it out. Her look turned sterner. But he persevered and held before her eyes an old clunky IPod.
“Paranoid Android” he said.
“You named your IPod Paranoid Android?”
“Yup”
“Why?”
“Well, I guess I could make some techie crack about apple designers, but mainly because like the track it helps me stop the noise from the voices in my head when I'm trying to get some rest.”
“Ahhhh” Another look followed. A much warmer one.
She stooped to pick something from her bag and turned to the side for discretion. Then she turned back to him and presented it to him. It was a used ticket. Perplexed he went to take it, but she closed her hand into a fist “You know my name, only fair if I learn yours” she said.
“J”
“Like the actor J*?”
“Like him” he said, putting P.Android away.
“Well J like the actor J*, I’m afraid I have to be somewhere right now, but I will take a chance here and give you this” she handed him the ticket. Then she got up and said “Goodbye”.
“Bye”.
She walked away. Didn't look back.
J opened his hand and examined the bus ticket. It had her number on it. He looked at it for a long time. Then he held his palm open in the air and let the sea wind take it from him. He went back to staring at the grass. It hadn't changed a lot.
A long time later J arrived back at his friends flat, four streets away. The walk home had done nothing to disprove his theory that P.Android had achieved sentience. On shuffle it had played RHCP's Under the Bridge, Incubus' I miss you and Radiohead’s How to Disappear Completely. He fumbled at the door, patted his pants and the coat for his keys when something small blew up against the door. It looked like a ticket. In fact it was a ticket, with a phone number on it.
He was cynical enough to assume it could be anyone’s, but still you did not argue with shit like this. He pulled out his phone and saved the number. When saw that he had also received a text. "J, why aren't you at the wedding anymore???” It said.
And just like that, P.A. started with Tal Bachman's She's so High.
It’s a nice day. Maybe there is hope.
1 comment:
Not Bad, Not bad at all! :)
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