Sara Loves the Sky

From the collection, Mono no aware By Tylor Traxler

It was 6pm in Oklahoma. Specifically, a Saturday. I remember because the Sooners were set to play in an hour. Unlike most around here, I wasn’t interested. That’s not to say that I don’t care about football. I think that’s an Oklahoman’s obligation. Although, I always felt a little foreign.  

The splendor of the Summer faded quickly, and leaves danced around the empty crosswalks. The sunset melted away the day’s transgressions into an endless sea of color. There was no orange, no purple, pink, or blue but really just an Oklahoma hue. I loved that s**t. I observed this all from a balcony above the ambassador hotel. I was alone on the balcony with a glass of champagne. It cost me $14. It was their cheapest option and out of a desire to appear more together than I was, I paid for it.  Inside there was a table of four older women, probably all age fifty or above. They all had the same champagne as I did. Not sure what that says about my taste in alcohol to others, but to me it says I’m mature. 

I was thinking a lot about poetry and thinking about how I needed to write more. I thought that the whole moment was pretty enough to be in a poem, or at least  I could lie and make it seem that way. The door behind me swung open slowly. I heard the transient laughter of the ladies inside appear and dissipate. Behind me a girl walked through the door. We exchanged a quick glance. Well, she exchanged a quick one, I on the other hand could not look away from her.  

She dressed like she didn’t care about others’ opinions, and walked like it too. She was confident, and soft eyed like she may invite you up just to slam the door in your face. She went to the other corner of the balcony and took a seat with her drink. It was dark like a whiskey or rum with some coke. No lime, so likely whiskey.  I finally broke my gaze and went back to my thoughts, scrolling aimlessly through marriage proposals on Instagram. Shoot me. It was silent, minus the distant blares of horns in traffic, and the softest music I had ever heard from inside the bar. The girl flicked her lighter, and lit up a cigarette. Camel Crush. Good for her, I thought looking over for a quick second. 

 

 

“Want one?” she asked as if she were a psychic.   

“Sure.” I said hopping up from my chair and taking a seat by her. 

Her name was Sara and she loved the sky. She gets her fashion sense from Bella Hadid and drinks only rum and coke. She dropped out of college before her junior year at OU because she didn’t see the point anymore. She found ideas sexy and loved only one guy before. He cheated on her with her best friend.  She didn’t care at all about football, and her friends were annoying. She loved movies. Her favorite one was Garden State, you know, the one with Zach Braff. She didn’t think he was funny in scrubs. That was my favorite opinion of hers. 

She was very good at riding scooters in the dark and loved racing the street car. Her favorite part of downtown was the glass buildings and their reflections, and how the Devon tower took on the color of the sky and blended in with the sunsets. She thought it was funny that I loved champagne, and spent $14 on a glass to look cool. She also said she liked my shoes because they had character. I told her thank you, I think.  She was cool with smoking weed, but she only smoked in the fall. She told me she didn’t know why, it was just her thing. I liked that she had her own thing.  

Her father passed away last October. He was very kind and ordinary. She was far from it. She had two sisters, just like me. She was the youngest though, opposite of me. They were both married with children and had no sense of independence. She says they needed to be taken care of and she resented their hastiness in selling out to the basic expectations of middle America.  We said goodbye that night, much later than expected. We exchanged numbers and assured each other we would do this again, or something. She was as soft in her goodbye as she was in her hello and I was happy to have spent time with her.  

I see her time to time, in passing at a club, a hello and goodbye leaving Stella Nova. Nothing like before. She posts to Instagram every weekend with her annoying friends, and pictures with guys that vape and dress like they’re homeless. I wonder if they talk about ideas. I wonder if they know her favorite part of the city. Surely.

Reviews

[Karmee]

such a powerful read here, quite interesting. I enjoyed this write

[Coyote Poetry]

A wonderful poem for Sara. We do miss the good people who made us laugh and smile. Thank you Traxler for sharing the powerful and worthwhile story.
Coyote

[Anjeline]

Interesting piece of writing. I really enjoyed the repeated usage of "her" in the write-up