I pick up my check from the front desk, zip up my jacket and head out of the building. Past the red maple trees that tower before the entrance, past the rows of aster, sage, and the sedum flowers that surround them, I see a girl in an ivory white gown with long luxuriant umber hair. She definitely stands out amongst the sea of purple, red, and orange, but her presence does not disrupt it. She wore no shoes from what I could see, and the gown she wore stopped at the back of her knees.
“Excuse me,” I call to her. “Are you waiting for someone?”
She pointes, then turns to face me. The whips of her shoulders intrigued me. There was the elegance of a dancer, yet she did it with such ease. She sent the wind my way with her turn, smashing warm air and leaves against my face. With shining orchid eyes, and fair skin, she walked toe-heel towards me.
“Are you?” That voice. I never knew someone could sing a two-syllable song, but she did. Her words glided into my ear and into my mind, breathing life into me. What is this feeling?
“I—I am—um—on my way home.” I hoped not to stammer.
“Oh,” Please, more syllables, please. “May I join you?” Thank you.
“Huh?” I could feel my eyebrows rise above my head, and my chin hover above the travertine ground. “I’m sorry, but I must refuse.”
“Oh, really? That’s too bad. I always wanted to see what the Bleach-Spotted Boy’s house looks like.” I glance down at my jacket; it’s covered with bleach blots. “I would say that it looks better that way.”
“What, the shirt?” I ask. I muster up some buried courage. “Would you, or did you?”
“I did.” She smiles. What smile was this?
“Well, now I can say I did it on purpose.” I reply.
“I lied.”
“So did I.” We both share a mischievous grin. “My name is Pent,” I raise my hand to shake hers. “What’s your name?” She looked at me with eyes that resembled a galaxy.
“Saria,” There was that “s” again. I never paid attention to people’s names like how I am today, but today’s been different. From the time Miss Portier left to now. So far, it’s been the best hour all day. “It feels great out, doesn’t it?” I wouldn’t know. I left the building prepared for some brisk winds blowing my way. The sky didn’t tell me otherwise; taupe grey skies with petals and leaves flying in the air. Alas, fall is only one step away from summer, and one step away from winter. I inhale through my nose, sucking the warm gust into my lungs and out of my mouth. Yes, it does feel great.
“Days like these are hard to come by.” She turns back around.
“In a way, if you live one lifetime, it is hard; to personally experience days like these, where you are intoxicated by the aroma of the flowers mixed with the smell of rain yet to come. Days where you are able to walk outside and enjoy them,” she turns her head to me. “Cherish these days, Pent. These days are one of the few constants we have.” She has to be a poet. The nonchalant allocution, the way her whispers screamed to me. I could tell that she was more than well informed, she is older than she resembles Just like the handmaid, but Saria was a riddle I couldn’t decipher.
“I guess you could say that change itself is a constant, knowing that seasons will change every year, knowing what flowers will bloom every season, or, just knowing that they will bloom is a constant.” I felt a change in the way I spoke, the way I carried myself, and just the way I felt. I haven’t actually had a conversation like this before, throwing thoughts back and forth with a stranger. I like it. “There are more constants than you think,” I say as I walk past her. “If you keep focusing on the variables, you dim the light of the constants.” I smile down to her. I think of things like these a lot, whenever I have time.
“You’re right, Bleach Boy.” She throws her gaze up to the sky. “It’s going to get dark soon, better hurry on home.”
“What about you? Where are you off to?”
“I don’t know yet,” she leaps to the edge of the side walk. “I would hang around, but I can smell rain.” She pulls a phone out of the pouch on her gown. “I’ll call Plátno to pick me up.”
“Want me to wait with you? The street lamps are starting to glow.” I have work in ten minutes. The shop is a mile and a half away. I always place my needs before my wants, but it has become difficult to differentiate between the two. I need to work, but I want to stay here with her.
I know what this is. This is something I have lived with for years, but this…yes this is different. The temptation that I know has murmured into my ear for nights and nights with no intent on retirement. These murmurs would be a sinister compilation of voices that drove me to do things I will regret for years, and though I will try to forget, they will burrow themselves into the farthest reaches of my mind. The temptation I am facing now is not the one I see at home; this temptation is like the color of her dress; pure. With each blink she draws me ever closer, beckoning me to stay.
“I’m sorry, I actually can’t stay.” My eyes fall, and it feels as though her hand presses itself against my chest. Why would I suggest something I cannot uphold? “Please, excuse me.” I turn my back to her, and gaze down the sidewalk.
“Pent,” My name has transformed into a hymn. The SKODA that I saw before slows and parks beside us, the still engine continues to hum. “It’s fine.” The hand lifts.
“You know,” I snicker. “We have a test after the break.”
“Glad you told me,” she grasps the door’s handle. “Though, it won’t be held ‘til the month after.”
“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” I glance behind my shoulder. “How about meeting me here, at seven tomorrow morning?”
“You’re the tutor,” The door shuts. “I am just the student.” I could feel a playful tone.
“I’ll be learning right beside you,” I take my first step. “See you tomorrow, Saria!”
“See you tomorrow!” The car drives in the opposite direction.
YOU ARE READING
Epicaricacy
Short StoryI can't give you the summary of something that is still a thought, and to summarize a thought would be insane. So just read it, and hopefully, you will feel like your question will be answered. And hopefully, you will feel my hard work. But most o...
