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| Like A Little Black Dress |
I was a at a friends house for dinner not too long ago. In all honesty I really did not want to be there. I was at a stage in my life where I just wanted to be left alone. I’d grown tired of people, along with their company. I wasn’t young enough to think I knew it all, but with people there wasn’t much to know. I’ve looked past surfaces into the beyond. Scaled great walls and traversed countless barriers into the mind trying to fully understand and appreciate others. I was the mental Indiana Jones, toiling to the center of King Tuts labyrinth temple in search of a Golden Fleece or Crystal Skull. But each time I found nothing. The process soon felt like looking into a shallow puddle, hoping if I stared long enough it would turn into a well. Despite my lack of interest and compassion I kept a cool exterior. Before dinner I made rounds and struck casual conversations with all present. How have you been here. A bit of weather there. How's so-and-so been here. Did you catch last nights game there. Everyone enjoying the evening and none the wiser. It’s funny how someone can talk about the Yankees and still sincerely hate the world.
Something happened, though, that changed me. Changed everything. I had made acquaintances with a girl; Jean. I felt no attraction towards her but when she spoke she made my brain tickle. She was a simple woman with simple features. Short, smooth auburn hair with a pair of eyes to match. Thin, brittle, delicate fingers holding a glass of champagne to her tiny and curvy rosy colored lips. Her entire body was dotted with freckles. She reminded me of Winter; a small patch of snow under an oak tree, red fall leaves strewn across the glistening white surface.
At first she seemed cold, distant. For the first few hours of meeting each other I don’t recall seeing her smile at all. Her face always looked so serious as you spoke to her. It wasn’t until later that I realized it’s because she was one of the few people who were actually listening when others spoke. When I finally heard her talk I became instantly intrigued. I had taken it upon myself to sneak into the kitchen in order to examine what cereals our hosts kept around the house so that I may report it to my commanding officer, Tucan Sam. [We were on our third bottle of wine.] Within the kitchen I found a door and curiously opened it to find what appeared to be a step-in closet slash cave of wonders overly stocked with sweets, candies, chocolates, sugars and even bubble gum. I’d uncovered Willy Wonka’s panic room.
“My God.” I said. “How could you keep all this candy in here for yourself? You’re so greedy to not even leave a plate out for your guests.”
Our host, completely unaware I’d found his secret room of goodies, looked up from dicing carrots and looked around the kitchen, unsure of where I was.
“Who…said that?”
“Your conscience.” Jean replied from the other room, not skipping a beat. “Give your guests some chocolate you cheap bastard.” Then after a long pause, she added. “And buy Jean pretty shoes for her birthday.”
I could hardly believe those words came out of her. Winter, it seems, would occasionally show signs of Spring. She was ever vigilant for her chance to dive into any conversation with a silly, witty or quirky comment I couldn’t quite categorize. She was never raunchy, though you always got the sense she could be. She was never too witty either. Her horsing around was more of astute observations obvious to no one but her. Her voice was probably the biggest part of her delivery. Most people don’t make much of an impression when they talk but Jean was different. Her tone was low, but sweet. She spoke so clear and softly but never sounded too high pitched and whiny like most girls do. It was as if each and every one of her words were so carefully and delicately picked, just for you. She was a flower girl, calmly strolling a field of roses, tulips and daisies. With smooth grace she’d take only the most sparkling and dazzling flowers, tenderly placing them in a basket slung softly on her forearm. Humming gently as she worked, handling each with such tenderness and care as she gave each one of them to you. That was how she spoke.
After our initial encounter I saw her reach full bloom throughout the evening. Though at first sight quiet and distant, her quick wit and sharp tongue made all those present giddy with excitement. While never really carrying the entire night on her shoulders, she certainly added an undeniable quality to the evening that made it all the more enjoyable for everyone.
Dinner came and went, as well did time. At one point our host was showing me around the house, as it was my first time there. On our way back to the living room to join with the others I walked by his bedroom door, which was half closed. I paid it no mind as I stepped past it. But in a split second, for just one moment, I turned my head and saw inside. Jean was sitting on the bed, directly across someone else who had their back towards me. But Jean looked different. Another sea of red was over face, but not the same Autumn leaves I'd come to admire. This red was strictly around her eyes, but it somehow effected her entirety. The soft calm freckles about her face no longer laid calmly on her skin but seemed to flare, the way small animals turn bright colors to ward off others. In that one step it took to pass the door, in that split second I saw inside the bedroom, my eyes locked with Jeans, and I saw an unmistakable glimmer in her auburn hues; a thin layer of tears reflecting off the rooms dim light. Confused and unsure of what I had just seen, I went about my night as if oblivious to the moment. Jean rejoined us around ten minutes later with the exact same attitude, the fury red now gone from her freckles as she smoothed back into the conversation.
Soon enough yawns and stretches snuck their way into our conversation so we all agreed to call it a night. I offered to do the dishes before I left, our host more than thrilled at the idea. I went collecting empty plates and glasses about the house, taking them to the kitchen sink and turning on the faucet. As I rolled up my sleeves and prepared to dive in I felt a soft hand on my forearm. A delicate, thin, brittle hand holding an empty champagne glass came into my vision.
"Thank you, Jonathan..."
My brain began to tickle as those flowers were so gently laid on my ear, and I reveled in the lingering of the moment. Then she was gone.
After finishing the dishes I grabbed my coat and stepped out into the chilly night air. The soft clicks my shoes made against the concrete went perfectly in tune with the light chirps of birds just waking in their nests. The night sky was still engulfed in the dark cloak of the night. Gazing to the horizon, a light blue hue paved the way for a rising sun. As I walked I came across a small puddle at the edge of the sidewalk. With a smile I made sure to step around it.
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Posted by lXxEpicxXl on 2009-10-09 22:28:10 | Rating: | Views: 18
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