Love, Lose, And Repeat

It's Mutual

"I work Friday, but maybe--"
"I'm busy all weekend." He picked away pieces of wet wood on the park bench. "I have
to watch my brother's cats while he goes skiing in France."
"It's March."
    It was hitting six am, and they found themselves in a park, after she asked him to take a walk with her. She was wearing her dress from last night and her black hair was in a stiff, matted bun on the back of her head. She was feeling the headache in her eyes when she looked at the just risen sun. The park was empty except for jogger buzzing by them like flies, with ear buds and blaring music. Weather was cold and wet, it rained all night.

He put his hand on her bare thigh. It was cold on his warm palm.
    "It's one of this them indoor ski slopes. Where the snow is like, made out of--nitrogen--and you know--they ski on plastic--"
    "I've heard of them." She said rubbing fingers over thin creases in her forehead where her make-up rubbed off her skin and onto his headboard, his pillows, his chest hair. "Thank you for walking with me; I wanted to clear my head."
    "I hope you thought that this was fun, but" he tilted his head up, bristles from oncoming black beard draped across his tanned skin, "that is all it was, to me."
    She held back the heartburn, hurled in her throat, from the Whiskey Sour's last night, and smiled. He smelled herself on her, bar bathrooms and cigarette sweat. He tossed a cigarette into his mouth and asked her for a drag. "I don't smoke." She said.
    "You smoked last night."
    "I do a lot of things when--" She stopped herself. She had her purse, her wallet, her keys--nothing was left at his place. He was watching her, waiting for her to tell him she had somewhere to go, so he wouldn't have to.
    "I just don't want you to think this was something serious, I'm not looking for anything."
    "I don't do this. I don't know how to act after something like this. Do I go?" She threw her head towards him.
    "I dont know. Usually." His hard green eyes and sculpted cleft chin followed her wherever she looked. He was fidgeting though, his leg was tapping, his eyes going to his watch then back at her. His head was at work, then back at his place, then her again.
    "You do this a lot?" She asked like she was baiting a crocodile, afraid of his response.
    "When I can."
    "How can you do it?
    He smiled like he was showing off chemically whitened teeth. His hands glazed over a string of raindrops between two panels of wood, "Don't think about it too much. I don't."
    "I just got out of a long--" She shook her head. It didn't matter. She looked don't at her pointed red bar shes, sticky from spilled drinks. She looked younger with virgin streaks of sunshine on his face.
    He put his hand, equipped with half-burned cigarette, on her thigh. Her legs were trembling and her arms had cold bumps on the flesh.
    "I just don't want you to get the wrong idea."
    "I know what this was." She smacked his hand away and the cigarette launched itself into the small puddle of a pond in front of them.
    "Look, I got work in an hour," He reached into his pocket and handed her a ten dollar bill, it was folded and fit perfectly between two barely parted fingers: "cab fare." He stood up and threw hands in worn denim. "It was good meeting you."
    She stayed there and when he handed her the money, her eyes erected up to his standing gaze, "I can't take this."
    "Take what?"
"Money from strangers."
"I'm not a stranger." He let out a laugh with smoke following the breath.
    She stood; he put a hand on her shoulder--she slapped it away.
    "I don't tell them my name."
    "What?" She started walking backwards, tucking trembling hands across upper arms to rub off the cold.
    "That's how I do it. If I don't tell them my name, its like it didn't happen."
    "I couldn't do that. Don't you want people to know who you are?"
    The sun was at its peek in the sky and the traffic grew louder as the city woke. It was the alarm clock telling the apartment people to get out of bed.
    "You live far?" He asked rubbing the sides of her arms to help warm them. She pulled away and shifted her purse on her shoulder.
    "Up a few blocks and--yeah, it's a ways."
"I'd walk you but I--"
"You have to take a monkey to the moon at noon today?"
"No." He smiled.
"Oh, you have a sold out concert tonight then?"
"I uh, I have work. I work in--retail."
"Didn't you tell me you were a rockstar last night?" She shook her head a bit. They walked together to the road. The grass under their feet was worn and wet.
"I say a lot of things when," he stopped himself.
    They were walking with strangers rushing to work. Traffic honked and the taxi's screeched at red lights. She looked at him quickly and saw him wave a taxi down the street to her. He opened the door for her and she called the address to her driver. He stayed and waited for her to be off. She opened the tinted window down to its frame.
    "What's your name?"
    He laughed a little and scratched the back of his head. He watched a group of girls disappear into a subway tunnel and then a jogger pass wearing a blue track suit. He broke out of the laughter and sucked in his peach lips, "Chris."
    She reached her hand out of her taxi to meet his, "Nice to meet you, Chris."
    The red light turned to green and the taxi went from twenty to screeching tires as she opened her mouth to speak. His neck was erect and listening, tilted toward the taxi, but her name became silenced syllables on a barely moving mouth that he wish he had heard.