to survive."
"Thank you. It's not even mine. My... Well, my colleague left it behind earlier and begged me to return it to him tonight," the girl said, not hiding the irritation in her voice.
The wind swept the awning and pushed a mist of rain on the girl forcing her under its protection and closer to Michael. The girl stole another furtive glance of Michael through her parted and damp locks before wiping the wetness from her brow and saying, "Oh, this is such a mess, really. This isn't 82nd street, is it?"
"No, not even close," Michael said with a chuckle. "Don't worry, the trolley should be back soon. You never really know with those guys though. Could be 10 minutes, could be an hour.”
Michael sensed unease in the girl's posture. He knew she was probably tensed over her unfamiliar setting, so he said, “You’re not far off if you had to walk it. Though, I wouldn't recommend it in this weather. Convention district, I take it?"
"Yes. Afraid so it’s, as I said, all a mess."
"Coffee?” Michael asked, pointing over his shoulder to the semi-lit cafe.
"No, no. I'm having trouble sleeping as it is. Thanks though."
"I asked," Michael said, placing her dried tote on the dividing wall.
"You could at least come in and dry off. The rain might be back."
With his words, the girl grew noticeably withdrawn, like a well-practiced defense. His invite made the man if front of her suddenly authentic, definitely different, and most tangible. This led her to new thoughts which she quickly tried to put away.
The girl stood in another pause with her eyes lowered to the uncomfortable heels that were now piercing rings into the small puddle on her side of the wall. Just as Michael was about to ask if the girl was all right, she skipped over his offer, not impolitely, by saying, "The rain, it seems abnormal in some way; out of place even."
Michael, happy that the girl had returned, said, “Nothing’s really normal in this city, if you ask me. You know how it is; rain comes when you don't want it... and goes when you do."
"Sometimes it's just like that," the girl said, stepping delicately into new words, searching for conversation that would stay easy.
"Like what?" Michael asked, noticing hints of the girl's perfume on the night's intermittent breeze. It was jasmine, he thought, or not. Whatever it was, it was faintly rousing and worked, not hard, to fill him with her and all the possibilities of her. Still, Michael feigned diffidence.
"I don't know? A season, a song, a time," The girl said, relaxing some.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Michael said with a puzzled squint of the eyes.
The girl managed a laugh at Michael's expression and it was joined with laughter from Michael as well. The girl then leaned her head to her shoulder in amusement and took the man in over the wall in his entirety. And when she did, she tensed imperceptibly and warmed inwardly while a strange familiarity crept within her. And though she knew it was false, part of her started not to care.
"I don't really follow. But, I'll pretend to," Michael said, relaxing the girl further.
"I don't know either," the girl said, allowing a grin but not giving over to laughter again.
"Do you think we ever really quit?” she asked abruptly.
Michael followed the girl's eyes and could see that she had spotted his open pack of cigarettes that were resting on the table behind him. "Would you like one?" he asked.
"No, thank you. I quit three years ago."
"But you just said..."
The girl gave Michael another reserved smile and said, "I know. I just don't think I really quit. I mean, I think about it so often because in my head it's as if I just finished my last one. Needing... needing another to fill the hole that's growing. It's always growing, it seems. So, I haven't really quit now, have I? I've just paused for an extended period. That's how it feels anyway."
Michael grinned at the girl and took a relaxed seat on the wall separating the two as he said, "I get it. It's very philosophical. I like it. I guess that's how I'll feel one day too. But now..." Michael leaned back some to retrieve his cigarettes and while turned; he collected a furtive impression of the girl in the reflection of the shop's plate glass window. She looked more vested in the moment when his eyes weren't directly on her. Almost wistful, he thought. The glass had betrayed the girl and this amused Michael in a way he wasn't sure how to display, so he didn't.
"Maybe we'll get over our urges completely one day? You know, clear the blockage of the mind and all that. Rid ourselves of the things that keep us from being who we were supposed to be," the girl said as Michael turned back to her, placing a cigarette in his mouth without lighting it.
"What if our urges make us who we are? What happens to us when we never give in? Then who would we be, really?" he asked.
The girl shrugged her shoulders and thought briefly on Michael's question.
“Maybe you're right. Maybe we should?"
"Of course we should," Michael said. "Denial of all things good is so overrated."
The girl, with new light in her eyes, took a step toward the wall and into the growing comfort of Michael. Then, as if she had reached a wall before the patio wall, the girl was interrupted when her eyes fell upon the tote. At the site of the bag, the girl shuddered internally and shrunk noticeably before Michael. In her defeated pose, the girl said, and this behind a quiet breath, "But, we should never give in to the things that hurt us, or others. Never."
Michael sensed the unease in the girl and resisted the desire to reach out and touch her in some way.
"We should try to be happy though. At all cost," he managed.
The girl's gaze stayed locked on the tote for a moment until Michael leaned in some toward her, breaking the bag's hold upon her.
"What? Oh, yes. We should," the girl said. "And we should do more than try."
"Well, since we're being philosophical, I don't think happy is the same for everyone. It's a relative term. Don't you think?" Michael said, trying to bring her back fully.
The girl clasped her hands in front of her chest and pursed her lips in genuine thought."Yes, I think so. Happiness is different for different people. All we can do is hope we surround ourselves with people who share our own brand of happiness. That's hard to do, sometimes."
"Like minded isn't always good. I think an argument can be made that people should sample others. It's like trying a new dish. How would I ever know if I like something If I've never tasted it? It's the same for people. Well, not the tasting part. But, you get the idea."
The girl let a slight laugh escape. "Yes, I know what you're saying. I like experiencing other things, other people. It's just nice to come home to familiar. Familiar is always... well, familiar," the girl said.
"I guess it's all about balance then. Open mindedness and all that," Michael said.
"Open minded is nice. Open minded should be like going home, familiar... present in everyone's life," the girl said with a noticeable swell in her spirit.
"Absolutely," Michael responded.
"I love that word, absolutely. It makes things sound so official and final. We should use it more," the girl said, allowing a level of joy to dress her words.
"Absolutely!" Michael said, catching the new and welcome wave of levity.
"And exciting," she continued, wondering aloud.
"Always exciting! Are you kidding me? Absolutely exciting!" Michael said tossing his unlit cigarette to the side.
"Exciting should never be missing from life," the girl said, her eyes beginning to dance and collect new light that looked to Michael as if it belonged in her, always.
"And remember, we'll not be afraid to try new things, because this will be what leads to the exciting stuff," the girl said, as a matter of fact.
; "To new things," Michael said, raising an absent glass to toast the air.
"And we will travel to places that aren't so popular, and we will always stay longer than we should," the girl said.
"Always," Michael followed up.
"And we'll go entire days without our phone and never checking our watch."
"Never."
"And, when we take pictures, we will sometimes use real film because nobody does that anymore. Real film is probably so much better."
"Much better," Michael said, leaning a little toward the now vibrant girl.
"And I'll be in charge of parties that will consist of guests chosen at random. Because random always equals good conversation," the girl said clasping her hands again, lost deep in her vision, no longer caring where it led.
"Random is just fine,” Michael said smartly.
"And what friends we do make, some will be odd and interesting. And they'll be the best kind of friends."
"Odd?" Michael asked with artificial surprise.
"Yes, odd," the girl said, with a broad smile and a subtle lighthearted lift from the toes. "And we'll be minimalist in our choice of living arrangements. Ostentatious will not describe us and will be a dirty word around us; one with which we will never be associated."
"The dirtiest word," Michael agreed with an emphatic shake of his head.
"And we won't have to travel to the country to vacation. We can build a quaint home in the country and possibly a barn of some kind. Yes, I think a barn would be interesting. Of course, I don't know what goes into a barn.