Emily sat at the table, practically placid, waiting for
Michael to return. She double-checked her face in a compact mirror she grabbed
out of her clutch. She had spent hours plucking away stray eyebrow hairs,
drawing in new ones, applying foundation and an assortment of other layers of
colors, around her eyes and on her cheeks. For all her work, she looked mostly
the same. For her this was a crowning achievement, the natural her, only
better.
She shifted a little and assessed her outfit. Had she perhaps
overdressed for the coffee date? Looking around, almost everyone else in the
establishment wore skillfully distressed blue jeans and t-shirts with
profoundly contemptuous messages printed on them. Her outfit was a traditional
little black dress (which every girl in America owns), with patterned black
tights in a knitted motif, and the random assortment of accessories: two
bracelets, short silver earrings, and a silver necklace with an ouroboros (a
snake eating it’s own tail) dangling just above her neckline. She would have put
her hair up in a bun, but she was told that it made her look too stern once by
a previous suitor. Instead she wore her shoulder-length chestnut brown hair in
a playful and inviting ponytail.
Michael pranced up to the table, two coffees in hand and did
a little spin before sitting down. Trying his best to look elegant, he came off
as just a bit queer and awkward. He was very angular with high cheekbones and a
strong jaw line. He was also relatively tall, just over six feet. His eyes were
a strong emerald green in the center and bled out to a grey-blue on the edges. He had short-cropped dark brown almost
black hair unkempt and a little longer in the front (It gave him an almost emo
look, but not so much that it would be the first thought in your mind). He wore
neat, dark blue jeans that were well fitted and a button-down grey shirt not
tucked in. He took a deep breath and set a mug in front of Emily.
“Here you go, Chai latte with a splash of skim milk and I
have a caramel macchiato, extra foam. Oh how I do love the foam.” He paused
with a far off look in his eyes and smiled a little, “So you were able to find
the shop easily enough?”
“Yeah, your directions were really easy to follow, even the
bit about turning right at the big donut man in the sky.” Michael chuckled at
this. Emily found it hard to maintain eye contact, his eyes felt like they were
piercing through her. It was as if he was trying to memorize every detail of
her in the shortest time possible. It felt both flattering and a touch creepy.
She continued, “So what do you do for a living?”
“Oh you know, a bit of this and a bit of that.” Michael
smirked a little at his response.
“Not really.” Her face switched from a smile to a slightly
pensive look. Emily was a little tired and weary of mysterious guys now, the
last one she had been with was so much of a conundrum that she never felt like
she was on any stable footing with him. As it turned out, she wasn’t; she found
him in bed with her best friend, ex-best friend now.
Michael quickly caught on, he knew his mystification act was
going to be a no go here. He hadn’t tried it in a while or if ever really, and
then he figured he could just try being real with her. His smile disappeared
for a moment and he looked her in the eyes, “I work in acquisitions for a large
clothing firm. Essentially, I buy fabrics from around the world for the design
teams to use and create interesting new lines.” He smiled again when he noticed
that Emily wanted an answer more like this.
“Oh really?” She chirped, “That sounds so interesting. Does
that mean you get to travel all over the world?” The excitement was well in her
voice now.
“Uh no I’m afraid, we are sent samples from textile firms all
over the world. I inspect them in an office under fluorescent lighting, day in
and day out.” Michael could see Emily deflate a little, so when in doubt, ask
the girl about herself. Michael learned early in life that everyone likes to
talk about their accomplishments, and hell why shouldn’t they, that’s why they
are called accomplishments. “So… tell me about yourself?”
Emily thought for a second then sputtered out in quick-fire succession,
“Well, I’m an interior design major. I live near campus with two roommates. My
parents are divorced now. Shrimp is my favorite food. I like to go out dancing.
I like to go on road trips. I enjoy small social gatherings with friends. I not
much of one for camping, but I do like strolls through forested areas.”
Michael was taken aback by all the information that was so
quickly shot at him. He decided it would be wise to just pick one topic from
her list and feign excitement for it. “So, interior design. That’s fascinating.
Why did you pick that?”
“Well, when I was much younger, my parents had an old
interior design book sitting on our coffee table. I was overwhelmed and
speechless looking at the designs by Frances Adler Elkins and Dorothy Draper. I
would spend hours just staring at the photos. The elegance and boldness, future
and past, merriment and misery all spoke to me in ways I still don’t
understand. From the moment I held that book I guess I knew, that’s what I
wanted to do, and it hasn’t changed one bit since.”
“Oh wow,” was all Michael could lamely muster at the
explosion of her passion for design. He continued asking her questions as best
he could, and tried to echo the energy that she was showing as they delved
deeper into her interests. With each new question, they leapt further down the
rabbit hole. Without realizing it, time had passed by swiftly for the both of
them.
“Excuse me,” a barista in a dirtied smock had meandered up to
them, “we would really like to close the shop soon, and well, we did lock the
doors an hour ago, and well, I’m tired and you know it would be nice if you
guys could wrap…” He became more and more voiceless as he continued.
“Oh my!” Michael blurted to cut him off, fearing that this
might go on indefinitely, “would you look at the time, I suppose we ought to
get going. Emily, would you like me to walk you to your car? It looks like it’s
become darker while we’ve been sitting here.” The barista stopped mumbling,
smiled, and walked back behind the counter.
“Yes, that would be wonderful,” Emily beamed. To her, this
finally felt like the beginning of something worthwhile. She actually hadn’t felt
this good about a new meeting with someone in a long time. They collected their
things and exited the shop.
-V-
