| Subject: Faded Blue Jeans And Raspberry (1-2) |
Author:
Ben Grimm
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Date Posted: 13:15:01 02/12/01 Mon
Author Host/IP: cleveland-216-196-35-30.raex.com/216.196.35.30
*note: there are seven "parts" to this, here I give the first two. If the readers at this site are interested, the other five parts will be posted over time. Any comments are more than welcome. Thank you.
I
{Faded Blue Jeans and Raspberry Iced Tea}
There is a small gas station across the busy street, one of the millions of its kind that are nestled into the many corners of the United States. It is a dull cream color with exhaust tainted green awning. The relentless sun is beating down on my black sneakers, cooking my feet inside like Thanksgiving turkeys and igniting my throat with thirst.
About two dollars in change, mostly quarters, teases my lonely finger tips in my front pockets. My legs ache from my forty-five minutes of aimless wandering on unknown sidewalks and past uninteresting new buildings. I was brought here as a "road companion" to keep my long time friend company on the long ride. The only reason he suckered me into this is because he had said he needed me. Yeah, well he had only needed me until we got here; he was the one who had strongly suggested this walk while he took care of his "business" which I wanted no part of. Technically, I have never told him to his face, but he knows all the same. Now, that gas station seems my only redemption.
The glass doors swing smoothly open when I push them, with a quiet "swoosh" from the separation of the rubber strips and a blast of cold air brings on a slight head rush, but it is refreshing all the same. My tired eyes lazily scan the small store from one end to the other...oh my...I am seeing things! Forget any dictionary definition or popular conception of beauty, this is the real thing. Beautiful is not even an apt word...the English language does not have one. Maybe I can make one up...no, that is not even possible! Delicate elbows rest atop the smooth check out counter, her palm under her chin looking wonderfully bored. Blue eyes stare out at nothing on the dingy floor, thoughts crawling like three-legged turtles across her mind. Lips of silken rose petals neither frown nor smile, they are just there...almost as if they are waiting to be put to use. Naturally wavy, frosted, light brown hair falls about her shoulders like King Arthur on his throne. Legs hidden behind that counter are forming themselves in my mind: long, muscular...perfect. They say it is impolite to stare, but I cannot help it. It is not staring so much as my eyes refuse to leave such a sight, as if they will whither to prunes the second they are forced to look at anything else in this haggard world deprived of such elegance as she possesses. I know if her eyes catch mine I will be frozen. Despite the foolish fears of my eyes shriveling up, I forcefully disengage my orbs and turn in the direction of the cooler; she looks up barely a half second later. I can feel her gaze upon my back taking me in.
A stolen glance toward her through the foggy glass door of the cooler reveals that she is still watching me. My damp fingers wrap themselves around a dwarfish sixteen ounce bottle of raspberry iced tea, feeling the little indents of the leaves imprinted on the neck of it. I absently lift it from the rack, ignoring the clink-clank of the next bottles sliding down the rack to take the place of the one I have removed. The perspiration on the glass causes my inattentive fingers to slip down the bottle, forcing me to turn my attention back to it. Switching hands on the bottle so I do not drop it, my free hand gathers the change hiding in my pocket, digging and digging.
I look up, our eyes meet...
I am swept away. A whirlwind of ecstasy rips the world around me away as if it does not matter, like it was never even there. Her soft blue eyes, the color of faded blue jeans, draw me into them like a black hole leading to heaven. In those eyes I can see the countless burdens left upon her by thankless lovers and the millions of disappointments they had brought to her. But just below the void of her pupils hides a kind heart and an open mind waiting to be found. The want to be the one to find those hidden treasures is immense; I could make the discovery of America look like finding a quarter in an empty storm drain.
All this passes through my mind in less than a second. I cannot help but wonder what she is seeing in my tired eyes...is it anywhere near as grand as the things I can see in her now? My mind has abandoned my body, but somehow I start to walk again. Our eyes never leave each other. The seemingly foreign iced tea is bought, but neither of us care, we are too enraptured in each other.
The cash drawer loudly pops open; the coins inside slosh forward with the jolt. Her fingers numbly collect a shiny dime and an old grimy penny from the slots. Trembling, her hand makes the journey through the space over the counter to my outstretched, open hand. As those fingers slide into my palm, a spark flies between us. My hand closes over her fingers. They are so warm...
II
{Rubber Strips and Rightful Honors}
A wintery cold chill lurches slowly up my spine as the "swoosh" of the old rubber strips caused by the gas station’s glass doors closing behind me bleeds into the warm summer air on its way to my ears. My daunted mind has already filed away that foul sound as a reminder of today, and, though I shall store that sound in the farthest reaches of the closet in my head, I know it will never be far away. I will not be surprised if I wake up in a cold sweat a few nights from now with that sound still slithering in my mind's ear. That synthetic noise represents something. I have once again compromised my heart in light of the needs of someone else. Nothing new there, I have grown terribly used to that feeling...it is cold, pointed, and burning. A paradox in itself, a pain in my heart. Despite the shield I know exists around my small heart, it still hurts. The shield surrounding my heart is an air-tight, steel-riveted contraption of grief, a hideous object to have living inside of me. Sometimes I have been glad to have that shield, but most times it is nothing but a cumbersome hunk of junk; as for right now, I am not so sure how I feel about it.
Small rocks, no larger than the size of peas, crunch beneath my canvas low top sneakers and catch in a few of the grooves on my soles. Many of the rocks scamper across the boiling blacktop in a desperate attempt to escape my unintended onslaught impending upon their world. The unfortunate ones who get caught under my soles emit a depressing crunch, crunch, crunch sound like dying Rice Crispies. Snap, crackle, pop, my heart just got stepped on. Darkness falls over the scampering rocks. It is a shadow, an extension of someone. This lone shadow projects itself under my feet, striking a rather ironic thought. I am stepping on someone else's shadow, but yet I am the one who is feeling like I have been stepped on. An insane, screaming idea streaks through my head: turn around and apologize to the owner of the shadow for intruding upon its borders. Before I can stop myself, air rushes into my lungs to fuel the words of my sarcastically honest apology. My heels dig into the loose blacktop and gravel surface and begin to spin to face the creator of the shadow in question.
Thump, thump, thump, then my heart skips a beat. It is almost like looking into the sun! Like being blinded by something so divine that my eyes have no right to look upon! Her face. She has followed me. Here I am, leaving her behind like some old childhood memory to hopefully fade from my recollection just as quickly. There she is, pursuing me out into the parking lot of this one stop gas station, possibly in the hopes of making me remember her. All of the breath I had so hastily gathered for my apology rushes out in a strangled "swoosh" so unlike that of the rubber strips. A simple cream-colored shirt with the gas station's logo embroidered on the upper left of her chest and the deep green uniform pants that hug her slender hips scream not simplicity or dullness, but beauty. Raw beauty. No make-up or fancy hair style could enhance the natural beauty she has, it is beyond that. In fact, I think such artificial veneer might hinder it a bit.
White tennis shoes bring her to a halt when she catches my eyes again. Not a jerking stop, but rather an elegant ceasing of motion. Wind ruffles her hair only the slightest bit, there is not much blowing around today, but there is enough to tease it, giving it an added flare. Her faded blue jean eyes hold my heart in a tight, warm embrace that threatens to buckle my knees in ecstasy. A smile slides onto her lips now, lighting her face up like a bright red rose in a snowy field. The curious eyes of every other by-stander in the parking lot crawls over my flesh, my mind swats them away as if they were harmless ants trying to invade a picnic. I care not about them, it is her I want. It is me she wants. That feeling of being sucked into her eyes comes to me again and I welcome it...but I have obligations! Of course nothing is ever so easy! As this blasphemous thought finds its way into the forefront, the corners of her mouth start to turn down into the beginnings of a frown. Are my thoughts leaking into her? Can she tell that I am fighting with myself inside of this? Logic says no, but I say yes.
She understands, I think. Her eyes say that she knows I am having a war within my mind and she will stand back to wait for the outcome, whatever it may be. Why am I doing this to her? Why even toy with her like this? I want her, dear God do I, but can I have her? I have a kind of "curfew"; I have to be back at the apartment by five o'clock and according to the digital clock spinning by the bank that I saw before I even entered the store, I have less than ten minutes. Matt would leave without me. Rather, Sue will "talk" Matt into leaving me, and I will be stuck here to find my own way home...but would that really be so bad? If she is here with me, nothing is so bad. I do not care, Matt can wait; I have a heart to attend to. The world will just have to spin without me for a while.
Our feet find the ability to walk again, and we come together there, in the middle of the blacktop and loose rock parking lot. With a few short steps we stand toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, and heart-to-heart. I can feel her sweet breath as it slides across my chin and rolls down my throat; the wonderful aroma of her perfume and the enticing smell of her hair brings her beauty alive like a forgotten goddess reclaiming her rightful honors. Our eyes remain locked as our faces drift closer and closer. My arms find their way around her and hers around me, we twine together like ivy. Her eyes slip closed as our lips connect and engulf each other...
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