She stands out among the cheerful crowd that floods the park on this warm sunny afternoon. Her military dress blues are crisp and neat, her pale blond hair short and neatly combed. Her grim face contrasts sharply with the smiling ones around her.
She walks past a grand edifice whose pilasters gleamed in the afternoon sun. She glanced up briefly as she passed the door, catching a glimpse of the candles shimmering on the alter in the apse of the temple.
She makes her way to an empty pavilion on the very top of the hill behind the temple and turns to lean against the balustrade so the only part of her visible from my perspective is her back.
I sit in the tree for one more minute, my eyes tracing the arabesque patterns on the pavilions trim before jumping down to walk towards her. It was the tree Zak and I used to climb as children. In it's top most branches we would shout and be totally free.
Kara's pavilion overlooks the courts where the three of us would play pyramid whenever we got the chance. As I approach the steps she turns as though she knew I was coming.
"Hey Lee," she said softly making an effort to sound friendly if not cheerful. Her hands give her away. They rub incessantly at the silver ring she still wears on her left ring finger. She looks as if she is trying to burnish away some horrible stain on the spotless ring.
A kaleidoscope of new emotions assaults me at this sight. She is clinging to her engagement ring like it is a sluice that would carry her tears away or a jetty to protect her from the grief.
I grab her hand to stop the rubbing. She looks unnerved by the sudden lack of movement. Then she tugged my hand and pulled me down the other side of the hill to the pyramid courts.
We are well known here and one of the players, spotting that we didn't have our game stuff, yells for us to help ourselves to the extra pads and balls in the bag by their court. We strip off our jackets, pull on the pads and go to one of the empty courts to begin our own game.
We push, shove, and throw. I'm bigger than Kara but she's faster and has better aim. Not to mention she has a hell of a lot more practice than I do and is just plain meaner than I am.
We would usually play two on one, me and Zak against Kara. I keep looking for Zak so I can pass to him before Kara shoves me into the hard macadam ground. The fourth time this happens my head hits the ground and the mortar filling a crack in the ground cuts into my forehead and cheek.
I simply jump back up but Kara stops setting down the ball and pulls me over to the side of the court. She pulls a cloth out of the other players bag. As she presses it to my head I feel the cuts begin to sting. She doesn't say a word, but moves my hand to hold the cloth.
My hand trembles and the cloth falls to the ground. The white of the cloth doesn't seem to fit, it's too pure.
Then a breeze blows and lifts the cloth revealing the vermilion stain of my blood. Now it fits, it represents everything in my life. The red and white contrast painfully with the tawny and sable stones around them. Just as we do with the people around us, our hearts have been annealed against all feelings.