Through The
Eyes
I saw them together very briefly that
night, but it was enough for me to recall the image for a long time. Of
course, I had seen the blonde at the club often, usually by herself,
always dressed to kill. I don't know why, but it had always seemed like
she was waiting for someone, and now I understood.
The blonde was almost untouchable.
She was small, but had an aura of power. Her eyes almost seemed to burn in
your memory. She never spoke to any guys at the bar—never danced, never
accepted offers of drinks. But she was beautiful and mostly alone, so the
men kept approaching her, and kept getting rejected. I used to wonder if
it bothered her.
Tonight, she was dressed entirely in
black, with a gem sparkling on her right hand. She had arrived with a
couple of friends that night. Her friends were at the bar, animatedly
talking, occasionally moving to the dance floor. She sat quietly, glancing
out the door every few minutes, waiting for that particular someone.
"Hey, baby, what's your
sign?"
The woman stared at the drunken
college guy drooling all over her in disgust. "Believe me, it's not
compatible with yours," she said.
"Huh?" The guy looked at her in
confusion, laughing like an idiot. Eventually, he wandered off in search
of other girls, beer in hand. Slightly uncomfortable, the blonde moved
seats, and suddenly she was sitting only a few places away from me. She
had a delicate cross necklace around her neck, I noticed. Up closer, she
was even prettier than I thought she was.
One of the blonde's friends, a
redhead, came over, with a tall, dark-haired guy in tow.
"We're taking off," said the guy.
"Okay. I'll catch up later," said the
blonde. "Call me later?" she asked.
"You bet," said the redhead, and she
briefly touched cheeks with the blonde before heading out the door with
the guy. The blonde was left by herself.
A slow, sexy song started up, and it
seemed that everyone in the room was moving slowly, luxuriously, to the
beat. Amongst the talking and dancing and laughing, the blonde was
absolutely still. It made her the center of attention, in her own private
world and thoughts. The world was alive around her, and she just sat.
Waiting.
Suddenly, it seemed like all the
energy in the room shifted. The blonde glanced over her shoulder at the
door, and her eyes stayed focused there, the smallest smile playing over
her lips.
Through the front entrance walked a
tall, dark man, dressed in black like she was. He was very good-looking,
and quite a few of the females there that night made eyes at him, flirting
with their body language, looking him over like a piece of meat. He was
unaware of them, or just maybe he just ignored them, because he didn't
give them a second glance. His eyes were very dark, and haunted, I
observed, and they were focused entirely on one person. The
blonde.
She gazed up at him when he
approached her. He sat beside her, and they spoke to each other, very
quietly, for what seemed like hours, but later I realized that it had only
been a few minutes. His face was urgent, like he was telling her something
important. I watched carefully
Briefly, her eyes filled with tears.
His hand gently stroked her cheek; she relaxed into his touch. Whatever he
had told her, it had either been good news, or she had already forgiven
him for it. She graced him with a lovely smile, he smiled back. Whispered
words of love were exchanged; her bill was paid; he helped with her coat.
She stood and together they walked towards the door. As they passed by me,
he said something to her in her ear.
"Always," she replied, just loudly
enough for me to hear. With a soft smile, gazing into his eyes, she took
his arm. They left together, like a normal couple, going home together. I
watched them go, with an odd sensation in my stomach, feeling like I had
witnessed something I didn't quite have the words for, but something that
I recognized as very, very special.
I saw them together for only a
minute, but now I knew that the blonde was done waiting.
