Later that night there was a knock on my door.
“Go away!” I yelled.
“But I brought you your favorite!” Jophie yelled back through the door, “Peaches! Atticus said they were your favorite.”
I heard Atticus’s laugh in the hall. My eye was twitching.
“ATTICUS!”
Atticus’s laugh fainted down the hall as he ran away drunk. Jophie stayed at the door waiting for me to invite him in-- that didn’t happen.
Chapter Eight: Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
When we got back from the tanker job the only thing I wanted to do was sleep. Imagine the worse jetlag in the world mixed with the worst company-- Jophie. The job went smooth of course except for our little speed bump. If those Gypsies knew what’s good for them, they’d never talk about it again.
When we arrived to Kial’s place he wasn’t home. A note left on his door read, ‘Welcome back, I’m gone till the end of the week. Enjoy some free time- Kial.’ That’s cute, like we needed his permission to have free time.
Atticus couldn’t even ask where I was going before I was already gone. He knew me well enough by now to know that I’d be back in time for dinner and so he decided to go visit his favorite bar.
I’ll never understand why he liked that dump. It wasn’t like there was anything special about what they served-- they didn’t even have food. That didn’t stop him from going three times or more a week.
The bar was called Mnemosyne named after the goddess of Memory-- ironic because most of the customers who go to bars wanted to get rid of exactly that.
Ayla was the owner of the place and hadn’t hired any additional help since the place was dead most of the week. Atticus, like most of the guys who walked in the bar, had a thing for her and she knew-- to each their own I guess. I’ve met Ayla before and she didn’t tickle my fancy but what did I know, I wasn’t a horny pig. Wasn’t like I could just go up to Atticus and ask why he liked her either because, well, I’ve done that before and all he ever replied with was silence.
“Mr. Quiet.” she said as she walked out holding a tray of freshly washed glasses.
Ayla had a system for dealing with her customers. She couldn’t remember names very well so she called people by their characteristic. When Atticus first started going to the bar he had barely said more than a few words to her so he was dubbed Mr. Quiet. There was also Mr. Mouth, Blue eyes, Grumpy and so on. This was her way of interacting with the customers—- if you ask me, a women should make a little more effort to remember a returning customers name.
Being the only women inside the bar, Ayla was use to men hitting on her and could handle their drunken pleads of passion with ease but to her Atticus was different. She knew when a guy was interested the way he was and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same. She was hopeful he would ask her out and always disappointed when he didn’t. It was like a sick game the two played with each other night after night. I didn’t know who I felt more sorry for.
“What will it be?” she asked.
“Same.”
She lined five shot glasses and filled them to the brim.
“Ready?” Ayla asked.
Atticus nodded. Both froze with their hand hovering the outside glasses. Then, as if someone shot a starter pistol, they drank their shots and raced to the middle glass. By the time Ayla finished her first two and went for the middle, Atticus had turned over the empty middle glass.
“Guess I lose again.” Ayla said wiping the extra liquid from her lips. Atticus said nothing.
Ayla smiled, poured him a beer and leaned over the bar.
“Any new stories to tell soldier?”
War stories were one of the few things she could get from Atticus and when he described his adventures he kept the more violent parts out and stuck to the meat of it all. Ayla would just sit and listen, sometimes for hours if the bar stayed empty enough. What Atticus didn’t know was that Ayla could care less for the heroic adventures that she would never get to be apart of, she just liked to hear his soothing voice that allowed her mind drift off from all her money problems. To her Atticus led an exciting life like the kind she had read in her books as a young girl. I was surprised she could stay awake because having Atticus tell you a story was about as fun as watching paint dry.
Once he was done all Ayla said was, “That was great soldier. Want another? It’s on the house.”
Atticus looked at his watch. It was about dinnertime and he hadn’t even started to cook my dinner—- the jerk.
“Best get home.”
He picked up his gear and headed to the door. This part Ayla hated most. Hello’s were great but goodbye’s always made her feel sad because there’s a chance she may never see that person again. Atticus pressed his hand on the door and paused with a slow exhale.
“Hey Ayla.” Atticus said.
Ayla, clearing his spot, looked up at him.
“Yeah?”
“You wouldn’t happen to want to…uh.”
“Hmm?”
“Uh…put the drinks on my tab?”
Ayla paused a bit surprised. He didn’t ask again. Oh well, there was always next time.
“Sure Hun.” she replied with a forced smile.
And with that, Atticus left out to the chilled night air. He stood outside for a moment and thought about what just happened.
“Good job idiot.” he mumbled to himself.
He walked back to our place and began to prep dinner replaying the event over in his head adjusting the parts that needed fixing. That’s when I came home as red as the spaghetti sauce he was cooking up.
When I had left Atticus that afternoon I went straight to my favorite ice cream spot to pick up an instant sugar rush. A few months back the owner had switched employees to this young kid named Rayko. Rayko was kind of a creepy little guy a few years younger than me and every time I’d ask him anything he would just stand there with a stupid look on his face. It was the type of thing you get use to after a few months so I let it slide and didn’t strain my brain too much about it. Besides, I had better things to waste my time on then this kid-- until he ruined my day.
I bought my ice cream from Rayko like I did every other day but this time when I asked for a napkin the kid handed me a note with a heart drawn on. I didn’t have to open it to know it was bad news.
“Yeah, sorry kid. You’re not my type.”
I walked away but apparently Rayko didn’t take no for an answer because later I had stopped to eat a late lunch at a mom and pop shop that sold pancakes twenty-four seven. I used the little girls room and when I got back there were flowers on my table with a note-- HIS note.
Roses-- boring. Glad to know he didn’t have an imagination either. After eating and without touching the gift, I paid for my meal and got the hell out of there.
I figured I could lose him in the streets on my way home but just when I thought I’d out run him, I’d feel his eyes watching me from the shadows.
“You better knock it off before I get really mad!” I yelled to anything else in a ten-mile radius.
No reply except a few dogs barking. Never any reply from that kid. I noticed the sun was setting and it was getting dark-- like hell if I’d be stuck out here at night with this wacko. I walked, well ran actually, back to town just in time to see the streetlights turn on. I turned a corner for my place and ran into Rayko. It startled me so bad I already had my fist back ready to strike when the jerk kissed me. So I’m stuck there, frozen while this mute guy’s molesting my face. After he’s done I looked at him and blushed a little.
“Happy Birthday.” he said and walked away.
I’d forgotten it was my birthday but that was the least of my worries. My first kiss was from a guy who’s crazier than Jophie-- lucky me. At this point I didn’t know if I felt nauseous or flattered but I’ll be damned if I… uh… let him get away with it?
Confused, I opened the front door and walked inside. M
y face must have said it all because when Atticus saw me he started laughing. I shut him up quick with a good headlock and asked my MAID when dinner was ready to which he replied as soon as I was done abusing the help-- yeah, like that’d make me stop.
***
That night I had another one of my dreams. It had been awhile so it caught me a bit off guard-- which seemed to be a new reoccurring theme in my life lately. This dream was by far my favorite because it was short, sweet and to the point.
I was fully loaded with my gas mask and canisters totally owning the guys in what felt like a game of hide and go fuck yourself. That’s until Jophie showed up ready to rumble. He wore that douche bag smile he liked to carry around with him so I gave him a good tap on the chest with my knife and watched as he faded from my blurry sight.
The ground below me gave away and crumbled but it was cool because I could fly and I used this as some metaphor for how freeing I thought offing Jophie would be. Turned out it was just a bad side effect of sleeping for more than twelve hours because when I woke up I had missed half the day.
This would’ve been the perfect time for an ice cream breakfast but I decided to take a temporary leave from the flirty ice cream boy. The last thing I needed was to be groped before my morning coffee.
Atticus was gone and didn’t have the decency to leave a note-- as if I didn’t know whom he was with; so I figured tonight would be another ‘me’ night. I checked the calendar I kept in my room and saw that the music festival in Aurora, a city near Lumina, was tonight-- perfect. I could use a little free food.
Aurora specialized in the arts. Their museums were the best around but like I’d ever step foot in a place with overpriced coloring books framed on the wall. However, their music festivals were a whole other something else. Free admittance, free contests and best of all free food-- this was my kind of party.
Aurora music festivals were Italian themed so usually everyone showed up in fancy Victoria dresses and Venetian masks. I had the dress, just not the mask. So guess what I decided to use in its place-- yep, the gas mask. I attached a few canisters around my garter belt just incase the shit hit the fan and I needed to switch to contract killer mode.
By the time I had finished getting ready my stomach growled and I knew that meant time to go. I walked outside to a street filled with people all on their way. Everyone held candles and lanterns and there were so many you could trace them all the way to Aurora. Everyone walked down the street while live bands set up and played music along the road to entertain you as you walked. Food vendors kept you full and street artist kept you entertained along the journey. Since the festival lasted all night there was no hurry in getting there. People would stop on the side of the road and dance if they liked a particular song or wanted to see all the lovely costumes and dresses. It felt like being in a vintage parade.
***
I got to the party a little later than planned but it didn’t matter cause I didn’t have a date. I stuffed my face and then explored around. Everything looked straight out of the early 1900’s. Even though everyone was dressed in costumes I got the most looks. Who cared, let them stare. With all eyes on me, I felt my garter belt stretching and sliding down my thigh-- cheap piece of crap can’t even hold up a canister or two.
I stood next to the food table and turned away from everyone to readjust my garter belt. When I turned back I spotted the most attractive man. He was talking to a young lady but his eyes stared at me—- ok, everyone stared at me but he had that look in his eyes. He was tall, dark and from what I could tell, handsome-- as long as his voice didn’t sound like he was in the middle of puberty, we might have a winner.
Violins started playing a melody I’ve heard before but couldn’t quite remember and the whole room paired up. The masked man walked over to me leaving behind his very upset female friend. He stopped in front of me and put out his hand. Inside I was beaming. Happy birthday to me.
“Me?” I asked muffled through the mask.
He nodded and I took his hand. I realized I’ve been working too hard because before I knew it I had sized him up on whether I could beat him in a fight. His hands were strangely soft and his cologne was faint and familiar. He danced better than me and led me on a tour around the dance floor.
After the song ended the band went straight into another. I tried to walk away for a drink but found myself pulled back into his arms for another round. Ok hotshot, I thought to myself, I can last as long as you.
The night flashed by and before I knew it we were already fifteen songs deep. Soaked in sweat, the only thing I felt was my aching feet. We tore up the dance floor and inadvertently ended up becoming the entertainment for the band. The last song of the night ended and we caught our breath. My mysterious masked man bowed to me and retreated outside for some fresh air. I followed and ripped off my steam filled mask. The cool fresh air poured over my face like ice cubes. The masked man tried to make a get away but it was me this time who pulled him back.
“You’re not going anywhere till you show me who you are.” I told him.
He paused a moment and I thought for sure after saying that he’d leave without saying a word. But then his hand reached up and took off his mask. I admit my heart skipped a beat, that was, before Jophie appeared from under the mask.
“Hello Essa.” Jophie said with that disgusting smile.
My face turned from hopeful to hopeless and my body felt the need to throw up. Of course he had known it was me the whole time—- what a disaster.
“Excuse me.” I said to him as I tried to hold down vomit, “I have to go burn my clothes and take four-hundred showers.”
I walked away and heard words come out his mouth I never wanted to hear, “Goodbye, my love.”
Love? Love!?!
“In your dreams buddy!”
“Didn’t we dance the night away under the perfect starlit sky?”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I said turning around and lifting my dress with one free hand as I advanced him, “I’m no one’s girl. ESPECIALLY not yours!”
I watched as the cogs in his tiny brain worked their way around.
“So,” he asked, “is this some sort of playing hard to get? Because I assure you my queen, I’m quite the catch.”
“NO,” I screamed. “You’re what’s hard to get. Read my lips.”
“Your beautiful lips.”
“THIS,” I went on, “is NEVER going to happen and SHOULDN’T have to begin with! I didn’t even know it was you!”
“Which is why you’re so confused right now, don’t you see? Love does that to people. Didn’t it feel right?”
“It feels like I need to be disinfected.”
I ended the conversation by pulling the gas mask back over my disgruntled face, grabbing my dress with my other free hand and stomping away. Even though the whole city was here I prayed that no one recongized us-- how embarrassing.
The rest of the night Jophie followed me around like a lap dog. So much for having a good time—- until I found the booze. I don’t drink often but tonight was an exception. For such a tiny girl, I can hold my liquor quite well-- until I drop it.
Two drinks in and I had already passed out. But apparently not until I told everyone in earshot that I loved them more than Jophie and tried to kiss random strangers—- some were even other women, that I’d mistaken for men.
***
I woke up the next morning in a bedroom I didn’t know with a woman I didn’t know sitting in a chair next to me. My legs felt like they were asleep but when I pulled the covers off to take a look, I was shocked to find out THEY WERE MISSING! Naw, just kidding. They were just covered in bandages.
“Good morning dear, how are you feeling?” the woman asked.
“Wa-Water.” I managed.
My mouth felt like sand all the way down the back of my throat. She handed me a glass and waited till I gasped for air before telling me her name was Keme and that
she found me near her house when she went out to get the paper in the morning-- I should’ve stuck to ice cream.
I felt embarrassed sitting in her house, on her bed, wearing her pajamas.
“I’m sorry for the trouble.” I said.
“No trouble at all my dear.” Keme replied.
When she smiled, she had those eyes that make it so that you couldn’t help but smile back—- I kept my guard up. People like that were usually two faced and I didn’t trust that.
She cooked, so I ate breakfast with her then she insisted I stay for lunch.
“What do you do for a living?” She asked which allowed me to brag a little and show her some of my war scars. After being a little boastful about myself, I asked Keme the same and she went into her own autobiography.
Keme lived by herself in a beautiful Victorian house; a house located just across the street from last nights festival. Her husband had died a few years back from a stroke and this was their dream home. When they first moved in, the couple stayed up late at night discussing how many children they should have but it didn’t take long before they realized that dream would only stay a dream.
Because of the incident, Keme and her husband Karl grew apart from each other not because they blamed each other but because they each felt as though they had let the other one down. Even through the ups and downs though, they stuck together and their marriage became stronger. When Karl had died, people asked Keme why she wasn’t more devastated then she seemed to which she replied, “Don’t let my appearance fool you. I miss Karl terribly. But I’m happy because I know I got to spend my life married to my soul mate. And that ray of light outshines the sadness in my heart.”
When Keme met Karl she worked as a nurse at Aurora’s medical hospital-- that solved the mystery of why I was bandaged up so well. She told me about her golden years working in the E.R. and how the men use to think she was quite the catch. She giggled as she explained she could have had any boy she wanted. It was like she was reading from a fairytale book, with such compassion in her voice it made me wish I’d met her years ago because I knew we were going to be long lasting friends.
The next day Keme told me about the day she first met Karl. She said when she met him she didn’t find him that attractive. She thought he was an overconfident man who’d say anything to get a girl and it took her awhile to let down her guard and accept a date from him.