She Is Beautiful

Six

Six
You

"Loosen up. You're with me."

Alona tried to shake Charles' words off as the angry music blasted in Terra Cotta Park. Never before in her life had she heard a sound so loud and annoying. Never before in her life had she seen people, young and old, convulsing their bodies wild and hard. It was all strange to her eyes.

Amid the thundering guitars and blaring drums, Alona thought of what Charles had said.

"Loosen up. You're with me."

It was the first time he spoke the standard you. Even for 'you are' and 'yours,' he usually used ya.

Charles noticed Alona's discomfort. He leaned over to ask if she wanted to leave, his lips almost touching Alona's ear. He tried not to show that he was having the jitters.

Alona shook her head. She gave a half-smile.

For Charles, the performance was a relishing thrill. A spirit of indiscriminateness. One day, he will be a renowned punk rock artist. One day, he will be sweeping his bass guitar up and down and bouncing his whole body in front of a bigger, more crowded stage.

The aggressive gig was over thirty minutes ago, but Alona's ears were still hurting from the sharp music. Charles was walking her home. She imagined someone like Henry, neatly dressed, a student model, to be the very first boy to walk her home, but it was Charles instead.

"What ya got tomorrow?"

"Be watching a few movies." Alona watched as the wind whirled yellow leaves up from the pavement.

"What movies?"

"Full Moon, Missing, Snow White."

"Snow White? The fairy tale?"

"No." Alona wanted to tell Charles that he could go home now. She was fine walking by herself. Besides, the street lights were bright enough. But she couldn't bring herself to say so. "Its about women's obsession with. . ." Alona trailed off. In front of Charles, he could not go on to say the word beauty.

"Imma let you off here." Charles walked backwards to face Alona. "Cheers."

Alona watched as Charles walked back to the direction they came from and trotted over across the street. When he was gone and Alona continued walking, she realized they had slowed down their pace in front of the Ruby Amore Cafe. Pushing the glass door, she went inside, texted her Mom to meet her there after her work, bought one Marocchino and drank slowly while watching the empty streets from the corner nearest to the glass wall where she took her seat.

It was the only chair in the cafe that she thought was thicker and sturdier than the rest. She didn't have to sit warily, in fear that she will break it, in fear of the customers exchanging glances that she's not being considerate enough by sitting in a chair that her heavy behind will certainly crack.

She looked over to the counter. Her Mom liked the coffees that the cafe serves, particularly the Marocchino because it is served in a glass mug.

"Hey, Alona."

Alona quickly turned her head to the side. But before she could say that the seat was taken, Sander had already positioned himself on the empty chair at her ten o'clock.

"Got a date?"

"With Mom."

Sander ordered the same coffee that Alona was drinking. He was looking at her so intensely that Alona had to clear her throat.

"Sorry, did I make you feel uncomfortable?" Sander clasped his hands together. "I didn't attend our event yesterday. Didn't have a date."

Alona pressed her lips to the mug rim.

Sander laughed. "You and your flimsy conscience. Why did you say no if you'd only feel guilty?"

"I don't feel guilty."

"Alona. . ." Sander looked at her again. Still intensely. But more serious than he ever had been. "Is it too much to ask you out?"

Alona almost burst out laughing. She stifled a chuckle, her heart skipping beats as she tried to swallow the last of her coffee.

"Go out with me."

If she hadn't finished the coffee, she could have spit it upon Sander's statement, or command for it sounded more like a command. For a brief moment, Alona was ecstatic. So this is what it feels like to be asked out. To have someone like you. But she shook her head quickly. No. No. I'm fat. I'm ugly. I'm not likeable. This boy here wouldn't ask me out unless he's gone mad. He is joking. Only joking. Yes, he is joking.

Alona's phone vibrated. It was a great timing. But after opening the message and reading it with her eyes for what felt like a whole hour, it wasn't really a great timing.

Her Mom replied that she was doing an overtime. Alona was now feeling strained. Sander is a handsome boy, pale brown hair like her sister Sanda, narrow facial shape, brown eyes and brows, high cheekbones, thin lips, prominent jaw. His family is rich, he's a business student, his future already secure. He's also a good person, a congenial company. When Alona first visited their house to deliver the books, Sander was the one who opened the door for her. He offered her hot chocolate. He entertained her while she waited for Mr. Sanders who was on his way from the hospital.

"I will wait for you here next Sunday. Same spot. Same time. If you show up, I'll take it as we're dating." Sander zipped up his jacket and strode away before Alona could argue. He didn't even drink his cup of Marocchino. He just paid for it and asked the barista that Alona have it.

When Alona received the order of Marocchino, she cursed to herself. Even him thinks one drink is not enough for me.