All she could see was one of his pastel eyes, the striaght line of his nose, and his small thinly crafted lips as they approached the foaming glass. She watched as he considered drinking and then as he set it down looking disgusted with the idea of beer. Night after night she had wandered into the dingy wretched bar with no other intent than to watch this curious man, who seemed to do nothing but suffer. Alana could not understand why, she had seen the younger woman glide up to his shoulder whisper something and then saunter away, a deep twinge of jealousy washed over her and then disappeared. In a moment of desperate desire she stalked out of the decrepit bar and meandered towards her own apartment building with her head down and her arms crossed.
Alana swept past a man older than herself yet not considered old, maybe middle-aged. As she moved past him she slowed dwn to what seemed like a crawl, she didn't generally see people when she returned at three or four in the morning. Their eyes connected and the five seconds they spent passing eachother lagged on for an enternity. One of his rough mechanic oil stained hands glanced her arm and she jumped away from him.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." He reached out to her and then swiftly drew his hand back.
"No.. I..I don't know.. know why I jumped. Please, forgive me." She stammered, eyes cast down twisting her foot on the cheap tile.
"Name my.. I mean my name..," he blushed a deep crimson, "My name is Raymond."
Alana lifted her head and stared this scared man in the eyes, the frankness of her gesture made him glance away.
"My name is Alana." her thick middle-eastern accent coated her words, "It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too," his words tumbled out of his mouth and he seemed to want to drag them back. Alana smiled and turned away, leaving Raymond slightly dumb-founded at his momentary extrovertedness.
Next Day:
The early morning sun poured into her small room as she lifed her sleep leaden eyes. She stretched her lithe body and arched her back like a cat. Alana rolled out of bed and let her brown bare feet rest on the frigid floor before she walked to her batheroom. Cold water splashed into the bottom of the shower. She stuck her hand in and then jerked it out, realizing she had not turned on the hot water. The handle squeaked as she turned it and the water tank began to whine.
She stepped out of the shower into the freezing bathroom and wrapped herself in a towel. She made a quick egg and then walked out of her apartment. The hall was deserted as it usually was at eight in the morning, but the foryer was bustling with people, if one would call four people bustling. The runners were up as always leaving or returning but never noticing anyone else, they were caught in their own world just as Alana was caught in hers. She breezed through part of the town without noticing anyone or anything. Everyone was a blur that suddenly slowed to a crawl when they passed her, all of them seemed to lock eyes with her, but it never made her uncomfortable or scared. She slipped into the community garden and closed the gate. Alana removed her shoes and her jacket and dropped them on the dark earth near the entrance. She skipped over to the swing and plopped herself down on it. This was the only truely enjoyable part of her day, swinging on the garden swing like she saw the children doing later in the afternoon. The wind whipped through her thick hair and wrapped itself around her skin. She swung high enough to see over the ivy covered fence, and for a brief second she saw the familiar frame of a man she felt she knew but had never talked to. Her heart faltered and a squeak leaped from her throat as her foot caught the ground and she was launched onto the ground. As she gathered herself, the door swung open and blue alarmed eyes stared at her.
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Jason awoke to the sound of Sasha barking and whimpering as she skittered around on the apartment floors chasing some invisible figure. The movie had just finished, and the credits were playing. The herbs he bought from Roots were having the desired effect as he entered the fourth level of experience and found the clarity to see to how he should proceed. He finally understood that the past twelve years had been a waste. He had been wallowing in depression and his own self-pity. He remembered countless times where he promised himself he would live life happily and to its fullest but he always failed
Now it was different. Now he was ready to find someone who he could care for as much as he had for JLC. He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out the slip of paper that she had placed there the night before and called the number. A smooth, sensual voice answered the phone, addressing him by his full name.
“It’s over. You have tried to pull me back in for the last time. I no longer feel the desperate desire for the physical pleasure which you used to keep me coming back. You had your chance, and you blew it. I’m moving on and this is the last time I plan to talk to you.” Then the line went dead, and as Jason’s heart beat steadily returned to normal, he began to think what his next move would be.
Was there anyone he liked or felt close to that lived in Thallow Flats? Anyone he felt he could trust and tell them anything and everything he was feeling? There was one person. She always seemed to walk around by herself and whenever she was in the Tavern, she never drank. She sat alone with her notebook at one of the old, grimy tables for hours, writing and watching. That’s one of the things he noticed about her, she was always watching people. A few times he thought he saw her looking at him. There was something different about her, a detachment from life, yet seeing the secret present in it. From what he knew, she was around 23 and was from the Middle East. She was very attractive and had a mysterious beauty surrounding her and her beautiful, innocent eyes. Whenever she smiled, her entire face lit up, making her that more beautiful.
The only problem was he had no confidence. He had never asked a girl out before, not even the one with whom he had spent two years of his life. That was one of the reasons he drank. He hoped that one day it would help him become looser and less nervous around women, but it never did. He was utterly pathetic, but hoped that it would be different just this once.
By this time Sasha was jumping up and down on the couch barking to be taken out. As they walked through the lobby, a man raced passed them, stopping just outside the door with a bewildered look in his eye, as he began to look frantically for some item of interest. He remembered this strange man as having introduced himself as Jimmy at the Tavern the night before. Jason thought it would be polite to say hi, but before he could say anything, Jimmy ran off down Main Street. As Jason walked with Sasha, he began to wonder how he would approach her.
Must... Stay... Awake...
I MUST! There was too much on this! Again, the buzz of the street lamp infiltrated my mental core, and I found myself drawn by the hidden beats within that noise. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.................
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....
.................................
(Earlier that day)
I strode down the street, avoiding eye contact and moving against the foot traffic. People careless bumped into me a few times - I ignored it and soldiered on, head bent over. The fellow at the root shop hadn't been helpful in the slightest - it was all "Good day!" to him, and he suspected the man didn't know even know how to talk properly. His act certainly didn't gain him any favor with Saul.
Lately, the other occupants of the building had been looking at him oddly, and crossing to the other side of the street when they saw him approach. They walked the other direction, and hurried into their apartment if they saw him coming down the hall. Saul was sure that Aretha hadn't just forgotten a canvas, but she quickly announced it to the air when she spied him coming down the hall, want back into her apartment, and he even thought he had heard the deadbolt turn as he walked past the shut door.
These petty items did not really concern me - but the reasons for them did. I wanted to be viewed with disgust. That was the reason for my manufactured rotten scent, the uniform I wore, and the way I conducted himself. But now, these people seemed to fear me. I do enjoy the new sentiments on a strictly personal level. Fear is a great motivating factor - but if feelings toward me continue down this road, it might be threatening to my mission to -
(At this point, I found myself to be rather close to a certain car who driver I couldn't see. The breaks screeched and squealed, and it seemed that I had escaped harm from my carelessness.)
But not quite. My legs suffered contact, and the vehicle was still at a sufficient rate of speed that I found my face in rather close quarters with the front hood. I jumped off as soon as I could, and the car sped off without me getting a chance to see the driver. Pokey came out of his stooping booth and asked me if I was alright, but I was fine. He apologized for the other car and said he'd talk to the driver about safety around the deck, but I persuaded him against that course of action. People were already spooked and it was my fault, after all.
Ms. Verdioso was standing across the street, rubbernecking at my minor calamity. I crossed and she didn't move away, but rather stood her ground as if bracing herself. Fair enough. "What in all Hell do you think that makes you a party to that little event, Ma'am!" I shouted. Let them stare. But no, she was staring, and not backing down. This wasn't going to work, and I knew it, so I walked away, almost feeling shameful, but not quite. She still shouldn't have been watching like that.
I knocked the doors of the Flats aside I strode into the hall. Van Vraken was at the mailboxes. He turned, and I SAW him. What eyes could communicate so much? Vraken pulled at his threadbare coat; the stitches were tested but held, and I knew it was time for me to let him be. I did not desire pain in one already hurt.
And then here came that fool Eros, making a smart stride as if the winds of fortune were at his back. I turned toward him and wanted to anchor that ship. But not now, not after being physically hit by a car and mentally walloped by the pain in those tormented eyes. I was weak.
He also made eye contact, and I saw the hint of a sneer, but there was no fear there. Only a haughty condescension and an arrogant gleam in his eyes. Oh no. Those were my winds, and that was my stride. What foolishness had he put upon my name?
Or was it not foolishness at all? I still had the strength for a vigil.
Brie watched from the rooftops, and the sun died slowly. Her ciggarette dissappeared in the half-light that made everything blend--the lights were darker, the darkness dimly glowing. There was a woman walking, and she was a free person. She could tell.
The woman walked to the Tavern.
I was enthralled. The lights from the city were spread out, and I could almost have applied the "patient etherized on a table" to that sky. I watched; and waited.
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