THE COLOR RED | DALLAS WINSTON

iv. LITTLE VISITS

AS SHE IDLY LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW of the cafe, Charlotte felt rather at peace as she quietly sipped a peppermint tea. It was a cold early spring in Tulsa, and it always shocked her when it was cold due to the fact that the area surrounding the town was largely desert. Cold to her was numbing and it quenched any life that delicately existed in peace. It's why she longed to go somewhere warm and rural where she could lay under a tree and feel the sunshine warm her face. Something to forget her cares with a nice tire swing gently swaying in the breeze. A perfect painting that a master like Michelangelo should have been allowed to paint. 

"Ugh, sorry about being late," Charlotte's friend named Brooklynn huffed as she plopped books down on the wooden cafe table, "traffic in this town can be a bitch sometimes." Brooklynn had luscious dark hair that was always curled to perfection. Not only was she friends with Charlotte, but also Cherry Valance, one of the most popular girls in school. Brooklynn had greenish-gray eyes, a button nose, rosy lips and cheeks, with freckles that dotted her face with close precision. It was almost funny to Charlotte that she and Brooklynn had been friends since kindergarten considering Brooklynn was the epitome of an upper class Soc that had stories about visits in foreign countries. Charlotte had never even left the state before. 

Charlotte hummed a reply to Brooklynn, the rim of her mug gently burning her lower lip. She let Brooklynn ramble on about the latest gossip that swirled around school that only a girl like good old Brooklynn could hear about. She knew almost everything about every girl, because she knew a lot about everyone. Brooklynn was always sharing the dirt with Charlotte, even if Charlotte wasn't the most popular girl in school. 

"You're awfully quiet." Brooklynn's preppy voice snapped Charlotte out of her thoughts

"My apologies, just a lot's going on," Charlotte rubbed her temples and took a moment to think. Well, it wasn't really that true, Charlotte's schedule was the same, it was just one person that wrongfully intruded her conscience. He was draining to think about, his poisonous voice had infected her, but Charlotte didn't expect it to last very long. They would fall out of contact eventually and that would be that. All said and done and life would be lovely once again. 

"Is it a boy?" A wide smile grew like a weed on Brooklynn's perfect face and Charlotte looked at her as dry as Tulsa's soil was. "Oh.my.god! It is!" Brooklynn squealed happily and would have tackled Charlotte in a hug had there not been a table separating them.

"He isn't as noteworthy as you think, so don't get so excited." Charlotte bit her lip and put her folded arms on the orange coated wood

"But he's important enough to be on your mind." Brooklynn raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her cappuccino, raising her dark and perfectly waxed eyebrows

"Well, I think he's on everyone's at one point or another." Charlotte replied, placing her palms on her cup of peppermint tea, 

"Is he cute?" Brooklynn asked, biting her lip

"I'd say more good-looking than cute." Cute, as if that described him. Charlotte knew the risky greaser wasn't cute. Cute was a disgusting term used to describe boys and girls. It never properly described anyone that was attractive

"What's his name, I might know him." She smiled eagerly

"No!" Charlotte burst out, "I mean, I don't want you to know who he is just yet. Nothing will come of this, I'm not his type, besides he wants to meet me in roughly ten minutes and I'd prefer you to not steal his attention for too long from me. It's important that I keep him away."

"Rawr, okay." She laughed, standing up and sliding Charlotte a few bucks to help pay for the check. "I'll see you soon, give me a call and tell me more." 

Charlotte waved Brooklynn off with a weak and polite smile. A few more people bustled in and out of the cafe and she soon found herself doodling on a napkin. Swirl after swirl, delicately inking the thin paper in hopes it wouldn't rip. Unfortunately, there were a few small tears by the time the devilishly attractive greaser boy plopped down in the seat once occupied by Brooklynn.

"Afternoon." Dallas greeted and kept his eyes low for some reason unknown. Perhaps the  police were after him and he needed to keep his head ducked down to avoid capture. Now that seemed like an interesting concept to sketch.  The reds, the blacks, the colors that almost seemed too terrible to paint out, but Charlotte supposed there were worse things that had been depicted. "You look a little depressed  today, what happened? Daddy didn't remember to bring you a gift? Mommy forget you needed, uh attention?"

Her eyes squinted in his direction. That was a jab no one should have made with Charlotte. Sure, it had been years since she had last seen her father, but the pain was still unbelievably real. Charlotte couldn't imagine Dallas had the capacity to understand what feelings she harbored. He seemed too complex, like genetic code. It would go on forever and forever and seemingly knew no end. Almost like the number of stars in the sky, the number could only grow more and more. 

"Relax, doll, I mean no harm, just tryna' get under your thin skin."

She hummed again, looking out the window. The thrill and rush of butterflies had died. It was a holy hallelujah for Charlotte. No rush, no problem. 

"I see..."

"What'd you do over the weekend? Paint?" He was teasing her now. All about her interests, but at what cost? To be another notch in his bedpost, well, that would make him another angry painting filled with blacks, browns, reds and more destructive colors that would picture her true bitter feelings. He was terrible and that was almost exciting. 

"Something like that." She mumbled into her cup of tea

"Why the long face, Lottie? You're always a sparky little thing, you're a lil' dull today."

"Maybe I don't feel like being sparky." Charlotte told him, raising an eyebrow, "And don't call me Lottie."

It all went quiet after that. It was awkward and dreadful, so much so that Charlotte stood and left quietly and Dallas gave a few words as she left. They were something blurred together about doing this again. As she walked out, the wind blew in her hair and she immediately  felt a shiver rush down her spine, almost like electricity running along a power line. In her perfect world, her awkwardness would kill any interest the Dally boy had for her. Unfortunately, the world never has been and never will be perfect.