The Book of Limbo

Chapter 4

She stood in the doorway of the tavern surveying the bleak scene before her while I returned the favor. Her hair was a raven's nest of razor cut black, crowning a pale face dotted with subtle freckles and no makeup. She was dressed for battle; clad in a bomber jacket, ripped jeans and leather boots; the standard issue of a soldier in the endless war between a misguided youth and an unforgiving world. But what really caught my attention were her eyes; the left was an earthy hazel, it's twin as deep as a sea of sapphire.

I'd seen people with different eye colours before, but never like this; this was like looking at two opposing souls occupying the same body. The only thing they seemed to have in common was the intensity they radiated, practically gleaming against the delicate curves of her young face; eyes that have seen too much, and rested too little. The uncertainty of the tavern was plain on her face, but judging from the ruddy knapsack she had tossed over her shoulder, she was here to stay whether she liked it or not. Now where have I seen this before?

Both coloured eyes glazed over me without a second thought as she took her first hesitant steps towards the bar, finding an open space beside me and dropping the bag haphazardly to the floor. She didn't look at me once as she promptly ordered a drink off Rex; a shot of rye, which she took before the glass even touched the table. She didn't wait to order another.

She leaned over the bar, no more than a foot from me, but it may as well have been miles judging from her distance of her gaze. The hint of a sleeve tattoo poked out from under her jacket, and across her knuckles was the word Lost in Gothic calligraphy. She looked about my age, but with that hard edge honed and sharpened by living though a lot more than any seventeen year old had business too. I should know, I saw that look every time I looked in the mirror. When she got her second drink, she again finished it in a single swallow, coughing slightly as she lowered her glass, clearly not as used to the fiery drink as she was putting on.

Normally, I wouldn't even consider talking to her (when you're a near homeless teen who's been wearing the same clothes for a week, you learned to pick your battles), but there was something different about this one, something familiar. She looked as though she were carrying the weight of a world that didn't want her on her slender shoulders; a weight she carried with a reluctant dignity and grace that wouldn't compromise for anyone or anything.

A quick lesson in talking to women

...To be honest, I've never been any good at this.

Women have always been an enigma to me; their beautiful minds like an eternally unsolvable puzzle, as complex as they were captivating. Like any impossible challenge, the figured goal wasn't to solve the puzzle, but rather to let the puzzle solve you.

Wish me luck.

"Rough night?" I delicately inquired, taking a line from Rex's playbook. It had worked for him hadn't it?

She glanced at me for less than a second, before turning her head away.

"Had rougher." She muttered under her breath.

"I can drink to that." I agreed.

"I'm sure you can." She replied listlessly. Her voice was distant, and from the far off look in her blue eye, it was plain to see her mind was a million miles away. Her hands shook with a nervous energy as they turned the empty glass.

"Rex," I called out, "bring us another round if you would. Unless I'm mistaken, the lady may need it even more than I do.

She cast a quick glance in my direction. I gave her a smile, but she looked away before she saw it, focusing instead on the bar top, her glass, anything but me. Nothing new about that. Rex poured us the drinks, casting a mischievous glance between her and I, as if to say, 'Be good you two.' Good old Rex, he'll serve us underage kids till were black out, but only so long as we behave while doing so.

I raised my glass, "To rougher nights than this one."

Not without some reluctance, she raised her own to mine. We downed the shots in single, all be it uncomfortable, swallows. My head swam on my shoulders.

"May I ask your name?" I asked her, desperate to keep the momentum of my bravado going. Her mismatched eyes shifted over me in apprehensively, as if deciding if I was worth her time or not. Or was it something else?

"Sable." She eventually said, not bothering with my outstretched hand.

"Sable," I echoed, "you have very beautiful eyes."

"Never heard that one before." She quipped, still finding her glass more interesting than me.

"All the more reason it's true." I said, mustering all the false charm I could. She wasn't impressed and I can't say that I blamed her. She retained her long downward glance at her empty glass, twirling it in her black nail polished fingers. Come on! Do better than this!

"Look..." she said as I was frantically thinking of something to say, "I'm really not in the mood for small talk or pick ups or what ever you're trying to do okay? I just...want to be alone."

"What? That's not-" but before I could finish, "In fact," She interrupted, "I should just go to my room. Thanks for the drink."

Real smooth asshole, I cursed to myself as she stood, pulled her bag back over her shoulder and reached a pale hand into her jacket pocket. She struggled with something for a moment before she finally fished out a crumpled twenty and slapped it to the bar. I don't think she noticed that I saw what she had in her pocket; a roll of bills, wider than my fist, held together with a thick elastic. I'd never seen such a wad of cash outside of movies before. Who was this girl?

"Wait!" I stood as she began to leave, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off like that."

She stopped, and even more surprisingly, turned to face me. I realized for the first time how much shorter she was than me, a full head at least. She glared up at me with those big ambiguous eyes of hers.

"Look, I just... I just thought you might want someone to talk to, is all." I mustered earnestly.

"I don't need anyone." Sable said, turning away, "For anything. Not anymore..."

"Heh." I knew it was awful of me, but I couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm glad you find that funny." She said condescendingly.

"It's not what you think, it's just...I said the exact same thing when I first walked through that door," I said, "and deep down, even then, I knew I didn't mean it." Her pace slowed, not a complete stop, but enough I could tell she's listening.

"It's not an easy thing, having no where else to go but this place. It's even worse to go it alone. Trust me." I said.

She cast a glance over her shoulder, "What makes you think I have no where else to go?"

"No one comes here if they have somewhere else to go. Welcome to the end of the road my dear." I gave a sweeping gesture to the sorry room around us. She turned and walked away. "If you change your mind, I'll be here." I called desperately before she turned the corner and disappeared. I knew it was pathetic, but it was better than nothing.

I'm not sure how much time had passed when I heard the bar stool beside me scrap backwards against the rough sawdust floor. I didn't even have to look to know the girl with the mismatched eyes had come back to join me. We sat there silence for a long time without ever looking at one another before she finally muttered, "I didn't want to be alone anymore."

"Me neither." I replied.

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