Discovery Avenue

Amy - Part 4

It took half an hour for Peter to clean his blood from his face, to try and gain his sense of awareness and to clear the fuzziness and buzzing in his head. He had to sit on the bench beside the fountain. Whoever the brunette was, she had also done the same, albeit faster. She had lingered, as if she was going to come after him again. She had minor cuts to her lip. Bastards, drunken bastards, he thought. She was obviously scared, her dark dress wet, her hands shaking as she adjusted her hair.

She paced over to him, soft eyed this time and swaying slightly. The clip clop of her heels like two coconuts being clapped together. The sound echoed throughout the square, which was all but desolate except an odd couple who kept making out in various places as if they couldn't get comfortable or were looking for attention. 'Have you come to punch me again?' he asked. She just sat beside him, he leant back in case she would lunge out again. She had managed to catch his chest before being ravaged by the drunk group. He couldn't believe what had happened, that nobody had helped, or called the police. It had been a while since Anna and him had been to town for a night out, but if this was what it had become, he'd rather stay in and have table sex then go out.

It was beginning to get cold, and spat rain. His coat was damp from being knocked into the water which had sprayed over him. The woman just sat beside him, her face was bruised now. Peter decided glancing over was worse than looking directly. When he did look at her, she pulled a cigarette from her handbag along with a lighter, lit up and then started toking. She looked quite vulnerable, as if she was holding back more tears. He felt a slight emptiness in his gullet, which could have been from the punches, or his lack of empathy. The woman had tried to attack him afterall.

'No. Sorry, I will not attack you again,' she said, continuing to very slowly toke away. He leaned back, his spine sore as the wooden bench dug into his aching shoulder blades. 

'Why did you try and attack me?' he wasn't bothered as he just wanted to go to another bar now, perhaps have sex with a stranger. 

She shook her head, using her free hand to move the hair from her eyes. 'My girlfriend said you tried to fuck her.' Peter realised immediately what she meant. It was that loud unimaginative woman from the bar, the one who found a reference to a martini offensive. 

'No, no I didn't,' he says. Both sat silently, and the smoke was being blowed on him, stinging his nostrils. His hands throbbing on the bench. Each moment seemed to slow, and he noticed her legs. She had no tights, and her dark dress reached to her calves. Her skin looked smooth and soft, young. 

She laughed, then cried out and held her jaw. She had taken a few hard punches directly in the face and he was surprised how little bruising there was. It was there, and only a small ring around her left eye began to show. 'I don't care, she didn't even come to help me before. As far as I am concerned she can go fuck herself.' Peter held in the chuckle. She spoke slowly, as if she was drunk. Her gaze fixated on the water spouting out of the ground, lights that changed colours lit up the square floor. 

'You know you have a problem when you can't even laugh at a martini,' he said, bursting out laughing. The young woman did the same, nodding and pouting her lips.

'Yes, I heard what you said. I saw you both at the bar.' That cleared that up. She was the woman who was snogging the face off the loud whore as he'd shouted back. A lesbian, which meant no chance of anything happening. 

'So, are you a lesbian then?' She had smoked the cigarettes' to the butt and then cringed her face and tossed it to the floor.  

'I am a woman, is that enough for you?' The woman smiled, no longer an angry unfamiliar face. He felt relief. 

'More than enough. Fancy a drink?' Peter looked at her, but the whole time she had looked forward, avoiding eye contact. Then, she turned, and he could see her full beauty. The glisten in her blue eyes, the innocence in her gaze. He felt moved, a little sympathetic. 

She gave him a half smile. 'Yes, let's go get a drink.' She stood up and Peter checked he could, but wobbled as he did so. She grabbed his arm, and steadied him. 'Be careful, you will fall over again. I am Amy, nice to meet you.' She led him by the arm across the square, and the pair entered a narrower, darker alley with a few smaller bars. She led him straight inside a bar called squires. He was withholding his excitement. Finally, he thought, someone to drink with.