Kaleidoscope eyes

Chapter four

I loved her; not for the way she danced with angels, but for the way the sound of her name silenced my demons
-Christopher Pointdexter|

The next morning was chilly, perfect weather for coffee. I arrived at the café promptly at ten o'clock only to find you already there. You were sitting at a table next to the window, at the very corner of the café. You were jotting down something in a notebook. A cup of coffee sat beside your elbow and another was placed right opposite your seat. I couldn't help but smile realising you had ordered for me.
'Someone's here early.' I teased, 'Couldn't wait to see me?'
I pulled out the chair opposite you and took my seat. You were startled at first but when you registered it was me you rolled your eyes and stopped writing.
'Actually my super speed got me here faster than expected,' you countered back, your voice drawling with sarcasm.
I smiled at you as I took a sip from the coffee you had ordered for me.
'Honestly though, I live very near here and I like spending some mornings here.' You explained, 'By the way, I got you an espresso because I didn't know what type of coffee you liked.'
I took another sip from the strong bitter drink, savouring the taste. I wasn't much of a coffee person but I thought it was the best place to ask you to meet me since the shop was simple and cosy.
'The coffee is alright.' I responded, 'What were you writing?'
You took the notebook and hugged it to your chest.
'I'm a writer actually,' you replied, pride written all over your face. 'This is more or less an idea book. I was trying to describe the morning and the people here.'
I glanced around the café; just a bunch for people ordering and drinking coffee and snacks.
'Not much to describe in this little place,' I snorted.
You rolled your eyes at me again. It was becoming obvious that it was a habit of yours.
'That's because you are just "looking". You need to absorb it all in.'
I raised an eyebrow and you gave me an exasperated sigh, as if my reaction was something you got often.
'Okay, look at the table three places away from us,' you instructed. 'What do you see?'
I turned to notice a boy and a girl talking over coffee and cake.
'Uhm- a couple having coffee?' I replied unsurely.
'Do you know what I see?'
I gave you a goofy smile. 'A couple having coffee?'
This time I expected the eye roll. It amused me.
'I see a girl talking animatedly and enthusiastically to a boy who isn't paying that much attention,' you explained. 'He hasn't kept eye contact with her and keeps taking glances at his phone. He barely even gives her a nod to show he's listening.'
I turned around again and this time I noticed what you were talking about. Certainly, I now registered that while the girl babbled on and on the boy barely acknowledged her.
'And that man over there,' you pointed out a man who was standing in line, paying for his coffee. 'From his snazzy outfit to the fact that he didn't ask for his change back shows he's rich, sophisticated and probably late. He keeps checking that gold watch of his; must be a very busy man.'
You crossed your arms with finality; probably impressed with your own analytical skills.
'You know what I see?' I remarked and you looked at me eagerly. 'I see that you're a nerd that loves to read, write and describe people in coffee shops.'
Your lip tugged down slightly and you averted your eyes and took a sip of your coffee. You were so adorable.
'Oh shut up!' You declared, 'I mean, what do you even do?'
I thought for a second as I looked down at my coffee before staring directly at your face.
'Nicotine.'
It wasn't necessarily a secret that I smoked. I just couldn't tell my mother or Brian, and I didn't want the twins copying after me. Otherwise I didn't hide it from the rest of the world.
You stared at me in awe as if you hadn't expected the response but your gaze didn't seem judgemental.
'Wow, someone's honest,' you commented.
'All part of the package babe.' I smirked.
'Why nicotine though?'
I leaned back in my chair. 'I did it the first couple of times to make the world more interesting,' I explained. 'Now the cravings are what make me do it, at most once a week- the cravings and the desperate need for relief.'
You nodded, listening intently. 'Relief from what?'
Your question caught me off guard. It shouldn't have since I'm the one that mentioned relief- but it did.
I thought of Samantha and Kelvin who were wasting their lives away. I thought of Andrew and Joan and how I missed them. Lastly, I thought of myself and how my body needed more and more cigarettes- ironically enough- to keep the guilt away. I had ruined them. I had ruined myself.
'Sore subject?' You observed. Damn your attention to detail.
I gave you a weak smile. 'Yeah.'
You let a silence fall and I was thankful for that. It wasn't awkward or thick though. You went back to writing in your book and sipping your coffee while I used a spoon to play around with mine until it got cold. After a while you closed your book and looked back at me seriously.
'Everybody has their demons, Ezekiel,' you stated before getting up. 'Come on, you can escort me home.'
You made it sound like a privilege of some sort to be granted permission to escort you home and I couldn't help but chuckle lightly as I stood up and followed you out of the café.
You didn't want me to drive you home. When I offered we go in my car you seemed almost panic stricken. It was only for a second before you went on a rant about how near your house was and it was so much better to walk because we would be able to see the world in better detail until I was convinced. You said I could get my car on my way back.
The street leading to your house was what you referred to as a boulevard; a wide street with trees on one side. You said you liked it that way, the quietness of your neighbourhood made it easier for you to think when you wrote as well as easier to concentrate when you read. You did most of the talking. You told me about you were going to the same college as me- much to my delight- to do some professional writing course. You told me you were happy because you could improve on your writing skills and you wanted to become an author stroke explorer and you spend your days after college writing from Ireland through Vermont. I told you I was going to do psychology although I wasn't sure if it was what I wanted. You told me I'd figure it out. You had it figured out.
True to your word, your home wasn't far off. In fact it was ten minutes away. It was surrounded by a white fence and you had to get in through a small gate that was detached from the bigger one. You told me to let myself in anytime I wanted to pay you a visit. The house itself was white as well and was two storeys high.
You fished out your keys and opened the door.
'My parents are rarely home. My dad is a lawyer and my mom just started taking photography classes,' you elaborated. 'So I'm always home alone, well minus the help, but they are in the servants' quarters behind the house. They do the morning chores and I call upon them when they are needed.'
'Well that's a lonely life.' I said, 'My parents are both in the medical field but I have three other siblings to drive me crazy.'
You nodded, your expression almost wistful. 'Do you want to come inside?'
I placed my hand dramatically on my chest.
'You're inviting me into your house?' I mocked, 'This is all too fast for me.'
You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile on your mouth.
'Don't let me take my offer back. You're a total stranger; you could be a serial killer and I'm being nice to you.'
'Maybe you're the serial killer and you're trying to lure me into your lair,' I countered back.
'Touché,' you giggled. 'I guess we just have to trust each other.'
You walked into the house and I followed right behind. The kitchen and the rest of the house, at least the parts I saw,looked like it was pulled out of a Home Owner magazine- modern and sophisticated with marble counters, white tiled floors and mahogany furniture covered in what seemed to be very expensive fabrics.
'Lovely home you've got here,' I said.
'My mom used to do interior designing before she decided she didn't want to limit herself to one field. She still does it here and there.'
I expected you take me to your room or the living room like most people, but instead you took me to the study. You said it was your favourite place in the whole house and that your room was all the way on the second floor so it would be better to crash there. The study was quite spacious. Despite the walls being a serious brown, the atmosphere in the room was quite homely. The wall opposite the door was taken up completely by a shelf which was filled end to end- row upon row- with books. On the other side, where the window was, was a small table with one of those revolving office chairs. On one side of the table was piled high with spiral-bound files while on the other side was; a case filled with pens, markers, pencils; a stapler; paper clips; rubber bands and a puncher. Next to the table was a stand with one of those all in one printer-scanner-photocopier things. The other side of the room had a CD player and a rack stacked with CDs. In the centre of the room was a coffee table with a laptop on it and a stack of note books. On other side of the table were plush looking beanbag chairs. The floor was covered with a fluffy grey carpet which didn't suit the room. Scatter cushions were thrown randomly around the room.
'Welcome to my lair!' You announced theatrically.
'Okay, so when do you kill me?' I murmured though loud enough for you to hear me.
You shot me a glare, teasingly of course.
'Don't worry, as soon as I sharpen my knives, I'll slit your throat.' Sarcasm dripped from each word.
You threw the notebook you had carried on top of the coffee table.
'Make yourself at home,' you said casually as you made your way to the shelf of books and started searching the rows for something.
Not sure what to do I went towards the CD rack and started going through them. I noticed they weren't the official CDs; in fact most of them had been blank disks that you had personally burnt music on to. You probably took a lot of time compiling them.
'Imagine Dragons; Blue October; One republic; Linkin Park; The Script,' I listed. 'A lot of rock going on here.'
'Most of it is alternative, not the heavy stuff,' you replied as you walked over to me and handed me a book. 'I wanted you to read that, it's a book I wrote; it's quite short. I'm always looking for someone to read my book.'
It was hand written, in a purple note book. You turned your head slightly away, as if you were a bit nervous about me reading your work.
'How to fill blank pages,' I read out the title you had scribbled on the cover.
'I wrote it when I was pretty young, okay,' you stated, still shy to meet my gaze.
'And how young is "pretty young"?' I wondered.
'Seventeen,' a goofy smile played on your lips.
'Yeah, a year ago is pretty long,' I chuckled.
'Shut up!' You replied, shoving my shoulder. 'Will you read it or not?'
I was about to tell you about my hatred for books, but I decided against it.
'I'm a slow reader, I must warn you.' I told you instead.
'That's alright; take as much time as you want.' You looked away again and turned to the CDs. 'So what type of music do you like?'
'That's a random question,' I responded.
'No it's not. You were going about music and going through my CDs and asking about my taste.'
My eyebrows creased as I tried to think of a song- an artist even, that I liked but none came to mind. All I could think about were random jumbled up lyrics and noisy beats.
'I guess I'm not really into music.' I answered, 'I guess maybe just the popular ones I hear at parties.'
'Obviously not the parties I attend.' Your eyes lit up. 'Hey, maybe you could come with me to a party my friend from my book club is throwing this Saturday. She booked an exclusive club for her birthday and we are allowed to bring a plus one. There's going to be this band called Supernova and they are really good. None of the songs are actually theirs, but they play songs I like.'
You seemed excited at the prospect of it. You reminded me of a fizzy drink that had been shaken up to much.
'Are you asking me on a date? Eva, I just met you,' I teased.
'No fair, that's my line.' You fake pouted. 'But fine, I'll ask someone else.'
'Come on,' I said, 'I know you want me to go with you.'
I was merely teasing on the last part but you looked at me sincerely.
'Yeah, I actually would.'
#
The party wasn't like any party I had never been to. There was a bar but nobody had gotten ridiculously drunk nor was anybody smoking or pumping themselves ridiculously with drugs. There weren't speakers blasting loud obscene music from someone's iPod and the club wasn't even that crowded. The lights were dim and streams of neon light flashed everywhere.
You had insisted we walk to the party, dismissing my car ride yet again. I wonder what it was about you and cars: You said they caused pollution and that speeding through the streets inhibited you from seeing details in the world. I didn't mind since we talked all the way.
'Dance with me,' you stated when the party was at full swing.
I declined. You frowned a bit before shrugging and saying I was at a loss. You left me there, seated at the cocktail bar but my eyes trailed you as brushed through the crowd to get closer to where the band was playing. It was hard to keep track of you since you were wearing a vivid red sweater. You threw your arms in the air and kind of just swayed to the music. I smiled as I watched you and took it all in; the people, the music and you, the girl in the red sweater who made me forget everything: Eva.