Short Stories

Elaine

I knew a girl named Elaine. She had long, curly hair the colour of a raven's feathers and eyes as cold yet as refreshing as the water she drank. They were so light, in fact, that some though you could see right through them into paradise. Elaine was a singer at the bar we all went to on Saturdays. She called us her Gang. Each time that woman saw us, her cold eyes would light up and a smile would separate her ruby lips and pearly teeth and she waved at us. "My Gang!" she'd exclaim, hurrying towards us and holding up her light purple dress so that she wouldn't trip. Every single boy in the Gang was helplessly in love with Elaine.

It never helped that she would make the most subtle moves on them. Touching their arms or flashing a quick glance in their directions. She would lean over one to light another's cigarette. The Gang was only held back by the fact that our wonderful Elaine was married to a man who shot his golf balls from the field to the mountains. Whenever he would slink into the bar everyone would go quiet. Glasses were set down and mouths clamped shut immediately. Even the piano that Elaine sat on was sure to stay silent as James made powerful steps towards her. But she would keep singing. Her voice, like that of the angels, would continue to fill the air even when nobody could enjoy it. James would grab her by the waist and swing her around and pull her out of our presence, marching out the door. He wouldn't even take her coat off its rack on the way out. He let the cold sink into her bones. But song would follow them to wherever they went.

None of us really knew where they went, but we all had our suspicions. Joe always said that James took her to the bookstore on days when he got his pay raise, but Dave swore that he brought her home to be beaten on days when work treated him unfairly. Will stood by his beliefs that James only ever picked up Elaine on their date nights.

Will was the optimist and the romantic of the group. At times he seemed so feminine that we all felt the urge to call him Mother. He cared about who was marrying who and what on Earth she was wearing. None of us dared call him queer, but we all thought of it. It we did accuse him of it he would just bring up the fact that he had a wife and children. Dave would tease, saying that he'd never met any of them. Will always told him that I had met them, and just to get on his nerves, I'd pretend that I hadn't. Will was also the closest to Elaine. She would always have a quick chat with him before even recognizing the rest of us. They would laugh whenever they were around each other. Joe once even confided in me that he thought they were having an affaire. He even confronted Will about it, who then felt the need to once again explain that he had a wife and children. Joe laughed and said: "So that means that you can't have any fun?".

It made Elaine laugh, which would make Joe's day. Making her laugh was like hearing the sound of rain after years without a drop of water. You wondered how you'd even survived without it. So yes, I might have had the hots for Elaine myself. However, I knew better than to pursue her. She was forbidden fruit. But I knew that there was something going on between us, I just wasn't sure what. Our feelings for each other already lay far in the past by the time she had begun to fake her interest in the rest of the Gang. Whenever Dave or Will or Joe would look up at her or beg for her attention silently, she would give me a quick look. We had our own type of communication. Once my boys realized this they became jealous and thought that I had something above friendship going on with her. No matter how much I denied, they continued to believe that I loved her, if only in their minds.

Elaine sang for years upon years, always keeping her act fresh and eloquent. She dazzled each man and woman that came near. For each person that stopped listening to her, three more would appear the next Saturday. The owner of the pub, Thomas, even considered expanding the show area and installing permanent seating instead of having to drag chairs into formation every Saturday. The other artist that came every other day of the week didn't have such a dedicated following but might be worthy of more seating if they pushed on advertising.