backwards.
She didn’t know that the wall that flew up around him had
nothing to do with her. Adrian had dreams that he wouldn’t admit, even to
himself. His passion for music and his knowledge of it surpassed that of many
professionals in the music business, and he knew he had more to offer than they
did. Where to start was the question that stopped him, and as the years passed
the question grew insurmountably louder.
His schedule got in the way because of the hours he kept
for work. He tried in spurts to fight the exhaustion. The social circle he ran
with, also, didn’t promote growth. They, as a group, had become like crabs in a
bucket with partying being the bucket. If you put live crabs in a bucket, they
won’t escape. Not because they can’t, but because every time one crab makes it
to the top, another grabs its leg and pulls it back down.
He loved films, horror films in particular, and it had
occurred to him to become involved in making them, to put his two loves
together. He’d thought of exactly the job she’d just mentioned, a music
supervisor, the person who finds the music and chooses where it goes in
television and films. It would take
time and discipline to learn how to do it, to make the contacts, to prove his
worth. It would be hard. Hard work
he didn’t mind, it was taking the first step that was the problem.
Dani knew she’d hit a nerve. She watched him talk to customers, his
normal showmanship and personality missing. She searched her mind for ways to
make up for it or to help. Maybe she could do something for him, she thought.
Soon he came back.A smile
masked the raw nerve. She could easily see he was still mulling over her
questions but she didn’t tell him that.
He leaned
onto the bar. “Your eyes…” he said, looking into them.
“Yes?”
“They’re so… intelligent.”
“Intelligent?
Not what I was expecting you to say…” she laughted .
“Well, I could have said a great many things, but truth
be told, they are really, really intelligent. They’re different from other
women. You look at me like you know
me, and it’s not just me. You look at everything like you know it - like
you’ve lived a hundred years.”
Her smile faded in surprise. She wanted to say,
“Close. Two hundred.” It was so
awful to never be able to be honest about things like that. She instantly wanted, more than
anything, to tell him the whole truth. In two hundred years she’d only told one
person what she was and that hadn’t gone well.
She looked away, got up, forced a smile, “Now that’s
something every woman always loves to hear. You look a hundred years old.” He started to explain but she
interrupted him as she stood up and said, “Excuse me.” He was afraid she was
going to leave and was relieved to watch her turn toward the ladies room.
She coaxed herself to be calm as she walked into a stall;
what she now regarded as her sanctuary and torture chamber. She was alone this
time, not surprising, as it was early. The place didn’t usually fill up for
another hour or so and she was thankful for the privacy. Looking at herself in
the mirror, she saw what he saw. She’d lived so many places, led so many lives.
Of course she didn’t really look like she was twenty-eight anymore, not really.
Her skin did, younger even, but her eyes and her essence, did not. She saw
loneliness staring back at her. Who cares how much you see or how much you do
if you do it all alone?
She smoothed her hair and went to put on lipstick. Her
bag wasn’t there. Where was her bag? She’d left it on the bar. Oh well, no lipstick. She took a deep breath, and opened the
door to find Adrian there, alone, leaning against the wall.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
He walked to her, and in her surprise she backed up a
step. His right hand reached out to her and wrapped itself around her hip as he
guided her back up against the wall. His eyes held hers and he brought
She didn’t know that the wall that flew up around him had
nothing to do with her. Adrian had dreams that he wouldn’t admit, even to
himself. His passion for music and his knowledge of it surpassed that of many
professionals in the music business, and he knew he had more to offer than they
did. Where to start was the question that stopped him, and as the years passed
the question grew insurmountably louder.
His schedule got in the way because of the hours he kept
for work. He tried in spurts to fight the exhaustion. The social circle he ran
with, also, didn’t promote growth. They, as a group, had become like crabs in a
bucket with partying being the bucket. If you put live crabs in a bucket, they
won’t escape. Not because they can’t, but because every time one crab makes it
to the top, another grabs its leg and pulls it back down.
He loved films, horror films in particular, and it had
occurred to him to become involved in making them, to put his two loves
together. He’d thought of exactly the job she’d just mentioned, a music
supervisor, the person who finds the music and chooses where it goes in
television and films. It would take
time and discipline to learn how to do it, to make the contacts, to prove his
worth. It would be hard. Hard work
he didn’t mind, it was taking the first step that was the problem.
Dani knew she’d hit a nerve. She watched him talk to customers, his
normal showmanship and personality missing. She searched her mind for ways to
make up for it or to help. Maybe she could do something for him, she thought.
Soon he came back.A smile
masked the raw nerve. She could easily see he was still mulling over her
questions but she didn’t tell him that.
He leaned
onto the bar. “Your eyes…” he said, looking into them.
“Yes?”
“They’re so… intelligent.”
“Intelligent?
Not what I was expecting you to say…” she laughted .
“Well, I could have said a great many things, but truth
be told, they are really, really intelligent. They’re different from other
women. You look at me like you know
me, and it’s not just me. You look at everything like you know it - like
you’ve lived a hundred years.”
Her smile faded in surprise. She wanted to say,
“Close. Two hundred.” It was so
awful to never be able to be honest about things like that. She instantly wanted, more than
anything, to tell him the whole truth. In two hundred years she’d only told one
person what she was and that hadn’t gone well.
She looked away, got up, forced a smile, “Now that’s
something every woman always loves to hear. You look a hundred years old.” He started to explain but she
interrupted him as she stood up and said, “Excuse me.” He was afraid she was
going to leave and was relieved to watch her turn toward the ladies room.
She coaxed herself to be calm as she walked into a stall;
what she now regarded as her sanctuary and torture chamber. She was alone this
time, not surprising, as it was early. The place didn’t usually fill up for
another hour or so and she was thankful for the privacy. Looking at herself in
the mirror, she saw what he saw. She’d lived so many places, led so many lives.
Of course she didn’t really look like she was twenty-eight anymore, not really.
Her skin did, younger even, but her eyes and her essence, did not. She saw
loneliness staring back at her. Who cares how much you see or how much you do
if you do it all alone?
She smoothed her hair and went to put on lipstick. Her
bag wasn’t there. Where was her bag? She’d left it on the bar. Oh well, no lipstick. She took a deep breath, and opened the
door to find Adrian there, alone, leaning against the wall.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
He walked to her, and in her surprise she backed up a
step. His right hand reached out to her and wrapped itself around her hip as he
guided her back up against the wall. His eyes held hers and he brought
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