RainA Chapter by RashmiI sit at my window
on this dark rainy night, watching the lightning turn the blackness into a
two-second landscape of pink and white, and my thoughts turn naturally to
Roger. For I had met him on a night quite like this and to this day I associate
him with rainy nights, and rainy nights now evoke in me a kaleidoscope of fear,
excitement and resentment.
My friends and I
had snuck out of school and the rain had picked up just as we reached The Stag,
a bar in the darker part of town. Giddy with laughter and our own budding
sexuality, we had made a boisterous entrance, giggling and falling all over
each other, and between the ages of fifteen and sixteen, we were all well below
the legal drinking age.
It was a dark and
dingy place and the clientele looked shady. The place scared me, and being the
least adventurous of the lot, I was sitting quietly at our table while my
girlfriends were having ten tequilas per hour and dancing in various degrees of
vulgarity at the bar. My eyes kept returning to the man sitting in the corner
right across me. In the gloom I couldn’t tell, but he was very still as he
smoked and I had the feeling that he was watching me. I was scared and
exhilarated at the same time, and my skin tingled, from scalp to toe.
I kept looking at
him every few seconds and at last he rose and began walking in my direction and
I saw that it was the infamous Roger, the one who had supposedly stabbed the
last bartender in the heart because he had brought him the wrong whisky.
Something about him was wrong, disturbing. His untidy hair and scraggly beard
didn’t quite go with his obviously expensive silk shirt or his exquisitely
tailored suit. He walked like those wild-west cowboys on television, almost in
slow-motion. He had dark hair, hard grey eyes and a full maroon mouth that
seemed to wear a mocking half-smile permanently.
He sat next to me
and he smelled like rain and leather and cologne and cigarettes. I was
breathless and flushing an idiotic red. He offered me a cigarette and I took it
even though I didn’t mean to. He said, “Look at me.” His voice was gruff and
steely. I looked at his eyes and I felt like I was intruding so instead I
looked at his chin where a scar was emerging from his shoulder, under his shirt
and my eyes followed it all the way across his throat and on to his chin. I
guess I wasn’t breathing and he seemed to have been trying to light my
cigarette and he said, “Breath in, sweetheart. Is this your first cigarette?”
It wasn’t but I said yes even though I didn’t mean to.
He looked taciturn
or maybe he understood that I wasn’t up to talking so he entertained himself by
letting his eyes take a long lazy stroll all over my body as he swigged his
drink. He didn’t look too happy with what he saw as I sat completely frozen,
immobilized by his rather menacing look. I could not bring myself to move even
when he started tracing the shoulder strap on my dress with his finger, not
even when he pulled it down and kissed my collar-bone. I still remember his hot
breath and the prickle of his beard on my neck.
My friends
returned to the table as he pulled back and he smiled his hard smile at them.
He put his right hand into his trouser pocket as we all watched him with our
mouths open. He pulled out an exquisite dagger and I still remember the pattern
of stars and skulls on it. My gaze was fixed on the knife as he gently slid it
up my arm, hooked the strap on the tip and pulled it up. He turned to my
friends and said, “So I was just asking your friend, what is her red lipstick
compensating for?”
The mortification
made a home in my head along with daydreams of Roger, and I spent the next
couple of hours in a daze, very quiet and lost. The rain looked like it would
never stop as it beat in rhythms on the windows, the same rhythm to which I was
picturing Roger making love to me. Sometimes I would also picture him
apologizing to me, throwing himself at my feet, but that image kind of turned
me off.
It was late and we couldn’t wait for the rain
to slow down so we left anyway, and stepping out the door, trying to cover my
hair as best as possible, I saw Roger leaning on the boundary wall, cool and
cruel, smirking and relaxed, like it was the most natural thing in the world to
be lounging about in the rain. Our eyes met and he blew me a kiss.
© 2012 RashmiReviews
|
Stats
366 Views
2 Reviews Added on May 2, 2012 Last Updated on May 2, 2012 |