The Jasper Arts Center opened it's
doors to local talent twice a year; the first week of June and the
week after Christmas. I only knew this because I had just read it on
the pamphlet they handed me at the door. I shivered as I looked out
the window; there was snow on the ground, and a tacky wreath still
hung on the door. I couldn't believe I'd agreed to come.
The lights were dim, and the room was
quiet. Too quiet considering the place was filled to capacity. Most
of them were women; housewives and single moms, and they were all here for the same reason. They were jammed in together around the
small tables that were decorated with cheap plastic bouquets and
scented candles. I assumed it was meant to capture a romantic
ambiance. It didn't.
I'd never been to a poetry reading. My
preconceived notions and cliched images had prevented it more than
once, and glancing around the room only served to reinforce my
prejudice.
They were a melancholy bunch, sitting
with hunched shoulders and dejected expressions; lonely middle aged
women with passionless existences living vicariously through romance
novels and maudlin prose. They were pathetic. It made me
introspective. Is this where I was going to be in just a few short
years?
I stood in the back, next to the fire
exit; waiting for my friend Sarah. I'd begrudgingly agreed to meet
here there; she was late. Her boyfriend Tom was being featured by
their club. I had no interest in poetry or Tom. I thought he was an
obnoxious jerk that had no business spouting off beautiful lines of
verse. But I had been best friends with Sarah since the second grade
and I'd remained friends with her through several obnoxious jerks, so
I told her I'd be there. She finally arrived with her paramour in tow
and we found seats off to the side.
I yawned my way through the first
couple of recitations, scanning the crowd for an interesting face. I
didn't find one. I was contemplating excusing myself, when the club
vice president introduced the next poet; Kieran Avery. He walked from
the back of the room, very slowly, with his head down, his straight
dark hair falling over his face. Suddenly I had no intentions of
going anywhere. I watched as he stepped behind the podium, shuffling
the papers he'd brought, and clearing his throat. I was mesmerized.
He touched me with the words he spoke.
His voice was soft and low, with just a touch of an accent. He kept
his eyes downcast during the entire reading. He was shy and I was
instantly smitten. His words seemed directed at me,
although they could have been meant for anyone there – or someone a
thousand miles away. But I will never forget them as long as I live.
Silence in September
Early September, you fell into my
life with just a word.
Lover.
I gave myself to you, body and soul,
waiting for just one more.
Two words perhaps,
My lover.
I waited for more to come, a
sentence, a line, a paragraph.
You were silent. Teasing me. Making
me want you.
Be my lover?
You asked the question.
I was afraid. I couldn't answer. I
didn't.
And then you were lost to me
forever.
No word spoken.
Silence in September.
I was vaguely conscious of Sarah tugging on my sleeve as she
chattered on and on about Tom who was up next. I tuned her out as I
became lost in a fantasy; Kieran and I dancing together underneath a
heavy blanket of stars, as the moonlight shimmered off the snow
covered landscape. I could feel his arms around me, pulling me
tighter against him as he whispered to me softly, "Be my
lover?"
Remembering the sadness of his silent September, I kissed him.
But Sarah was still tugging on my sleeve. It drew me from my fantasy
and back into my sad reality.
I immediately began to apologize, and as I turned my head to look at
her, my eyes fell upon the handsome young face. He was standing right
in front of me.
"Emma, I've been trying to get your attention, I'd like to
introduce you to Tom's friend Kieran."
I stuck out my hand and he took it, holding it for a moment longer
than was politely necessary.
I smiled and he smiled back.
"Nice to meet you Emma," he said as he let go of my hand.
I couldn't stop myself, the words fell from my lips before I could
stop them, "Kieran, do you... do you dance?"
He replied without hesitation, "only under the stars."
©2012
Garden Summerland
Romantic....yet not a comedy?
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure how to take that! :P
Awesome flash fiction Garden!!!