Encounters
He spots her from across the deck, and immediately he knows she is beautiful. The lights glow softly in their lanterns, complementing the silver stars twinkling in the deep satin sky above. He crosses the deck, each step taken in time with the music that swells and fills the air. It’s more of a waltz than a walk, really. Every motion exudes an aura of elegance.
He finally reaches her and smiles. It’s a charming smile, rather than the crafty kind that so many arrogant men have offered her. It’s a smile that reflects reverence. He asks for her name, and, flattered, she gives it to him. He repeats it. Whispers it. Savors it.
She asks his name, and he introduces himself to her with another smile. He says her name again and offers his hand, extending an invitation to dance. Charmed, she accepts, and he turns her slowly on the floor, paying more attention to her eyes than to the dance. He feels as though he’s gazing at the two most precious jewels in all the world. It’s a slow dance, relaxing and comforting. He holds her close, his hold less a grasp and more an embrace. All the other faces blur into obscurity as he speaks to her in a low voice, bowing his head to hear her responses. A light breeze fans her face, and he loops a strand of loose hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering by her face before dropping off the curve of her chin.
He asks if she would like a drink, and disappears to retrieve it the moment she assents. His walk is as graceful as ever, but this time his steps seem to be in sync with the beat of her heart rather than the music. She smiles down at her hands, feeling treasured. He comes back and slips a glass into her hand, his fingers brushing against hers.
They both sip at the drinks, chatting cordially over the rims of the glass, ignoring the connection hovering between them and focusing on the façade of formality. A server takes their glasses away, and he requests another dance with her. This time, he takes her hands in his. His hands are warm around hers. He whispers her name, and it hangs in the air between them. His eyes stare into hers, and her heart beats a little faster, nudging her towards him. But her head makes better sense of things, and before anything can happen, she quickly thanks him for the dance and excuses herself, hurrying away. He watches her leave, watches her hurry to her friends and busy herself with them, refusing to spare him a second glance. His hands, which had held hers so tenderly moments before, close around the cold night air.
He whispers her name again, and then turns, walking to the back of the yacht to stare out at the ocean. The moon has stained the relentless waves silver, and he leans against the cold railing, listening to the water lap at the sides of the boat, frothing against themselves. The stars shine brighter, winking in the sky, sending him hope. Her name replays in his mind. He sighs quietly, his exhale lost in a soft breath of wind that sweeps past him, caressing him softly.
Long after the moon as sunk below the horizon and the sun has colored the sky blue, he thinks of her. He knows that he won’t see her again, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t want to. Her name replays in his mind, an endless record. Not a broken one. He can’t get tired of her name. He rubs his forehead and tries to forget and finds it to be as difficult as trying to forget his own name. He sits in his office and stares at his laptop, trying to find it in himself to move past the syllables that consume him. But he cannot, and he gazes out the window, remembering the satin sky and the way her lips brushed against each other when she said his name. He thinks about the way her dress held her figure, how it clutched her as he so longs to. He wonders if she’s thinking about him and begins to pace around the room, his steps in time to the repetition of her name in his brain.
He can’t escape it.
As he traces his steps seventeen floors above the ground, she’s running down the sidewalk, late to work. She spent a moment too long remembering him and missed her subway. She’s flustered, her hair flying wildly as she hurries to hail a taxi. She manages to catch one. She greets the cabbie with a smile, and he returns the favor. His smile is familiar. It reminds her of the one she encountered yesterday, but it’s different. Not his. She pulls it out of her memory and smiles back at the recollection. She remembers the way he held her hands, and suddenly her gloves don’t seem sufficient against the cold. How can she miss someone she barely knows? She shakes her head to herself, but his name finds its way to her lips. She mouths it silently and smiles. His smile is her privilege. His name is her secret. She arrives at her destination, and despite nearly tripping on the stairs up to her office, she can’t help but smile.
Coffee break.
He takes the elevator down to the lobby, his feet tapping. He hopes to see her, but he knows he won’t. He can’t. It’s impossible.
Still, he straightens his jacket, whispers her name, and then walks down the street to the café a block away. The wind has picked up since the evening before, He secures his jacket. He thinks of her hair, wondering if it is flying around the way it had last night. He thinks of the curl he tucked behind her ear, remembers how soft it was. He recalls the floral aroma that had surrounded her, and he thinks of her name again.
He gets to the café and wonders if she feels what he does. He wonders if she still remembers him. He wonders if she cares.
He orders his usual and retires to a table in the corner of the shop to wait for his order. He sits alone, watching people zip in and out of the little café, picking up coffees and pastries. A waiter delivers his order just as she walks in.
He nearly knocks the coffee over. She’s standing in line, her soft hands fixing her hair. Her cheeks are deliciously red, and just as she’s finishing straightening herself up, her eyes meet his.
Her lips mold into his name, and he feels joy rise up in his chest. He calls her name, the name that has been begging to leave his mouth, and she smiles.
He smiles back.
She’s too busy looking at him to realize that it’s her turn to order. She turns pink and places her order, smiling before going to join him in his seat.
He smiles at her, too glad to see her to care that his coffee is growing cold, even though he hates cold coffee. She looks happy to see him. They sit in silence for a moment, studying each other until he says her name again.
She smiles.
They express their surprise at seeing one another. He never would have dreamed of such an occurrence. She was pleasantly shocked at their encounter.
Both neglect to mention they’d been hoping for it.
She overstays her coffee break, but she can’t bring herself to feel anything other than satisfaction. They exchange numbers, and he offers a hug to her. He’s not wearing the suit he donned last night, and she’s not wearing the silk dress, but for a moment, they’re sent back to the gently rocking yacht, embracing one another under the dark satin sky with the stars shining above them.
