💾 Archived View for clemat.is › saccophore › library › ezines › textfiles › ezines › ANADA › anada08… captured on 2021-12-03 at 14:04:38.
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*****###****###***********************************************###**#**##****
## ## ### I S S U E # 0 8 5 0 6 - 2 3 - 0 0 ### ####
### # ### #######
#### ### "Touch" ###
####### by Phairgirl
####
She was always sitting there. Fuck reality, she wasn't your average
anything. But she was always sitting there, every day when Kevin went to
get his morning coffee and read the same daily bullshit they published in
the local paper. She was a regular, and there were plenty of them.
Kevin never frequented any places until he saw her the first time.
His friend Alex had invited him out for a brunch one morning and dragged him
into the lowly diner in a part of town that he had never even realized was
there. He spent a lot of time watching everyone.
"Yo, Alex," Kevin half-whispered.
"Yeah?"
"What's with that guy over there, he keeps yelling at the table next
to him, but nobody's there."
"That's Raymond. Everyone knows Ray. He's always talking about
society is bad this and the world hates him that, blah blah blah. Nobody
pays attention to him, that's just the way he is," Alex summed.
Kevin was slightly baffled. "Don't they kick people out for stuff
like that?"
"Nah, not Raymond. He's here every day for coffee. Sometimes he's
laid back, some days are worse than others. Everyone stops and talks to
him. He's a regular."
"Ahhh, regular? Why would a dump like this have regulars?" Kevin
couldn't help asking.
"You know. Some small place isn't about to lose business by kicking
out the dedicated customers. And look at everyone else here. Do they look
disturbed? Fuck no. Why do you think they come here all the time? Raymond
is one in a million," Alek quipped, and settled back with his omelet.
Kevin glanced around himself some more. He saw an older lady
knitting something, with a cup of coffee, a glass of soda, and a pitcher of
water in front of her. She would stitch a few, rearrange the glasses, and
stitch a few more. There was a haggard old man who looked like he slept in
a dumpster, carefully cradling his coffee mug, staring at it as though it
were a kaleidoscope, occasionally falling forward in half-sleep and jerking
himself awake. And then there was this tall, lanky girl, dressed in black
with obscenely long brown hair, meditating over a notebook, occasionally
scribbling and pounding her fists on the table.
And after that day, Kevin knew this was the place he had to be. He
was completely fascinated by the characters within the small cafe, and all
of his thoughts seemed to be pervaded by his preoccupation with their quirks
and oddities. He wanted to KNOW them. He couldn't watch them continually
spend their time alone with their essence lost in a middle-of-nowhere
nothingsville rattrap. So he went back.
And soon, Kevin was almost a regular. Nobody thought of him as one,
as he always quietly sat, sipping and reading. He could almost predict the
other regulars' comings and goings, their idiosyncracies, their good days
and bad. And although Raymond was always spectacular for the occasional
conversation, and the knitting lady always had bright, cheerful, 1950s-esque
things to say, he always dodged the girl in black. He was intrigued, but
her presence made him feel like a travelling nothing.
Finally he mustered the courage. He was intimidated to the point
where he almost broke out in hives. He was strangely attracted to her, but
she was by far the most spastic regular he'd watched. Some days she'd stare
blissfully out the windows, watching the clouds move across the sky. Other
days she'd be fighting back tears, every move violent. Totally
unpredictable. Completely frightening.
Kevin stood above her as she sat scribbling away in her notebook. He
bent down slightly and asked, "Care for some company?"
The stared at him with a completely stony expression. "Feel free,"
she said in a very friendly voice, but still with that face. She slowed her
scribbling and eventually lounged about in the booth and began sipping her
coffee.
She began to speak. "You're an artist, I can tell," she spoke quite
demurely, but still with the fierce, empty stare. "And you've been watching
me, you want to be a regular here, you blend in with all the other faces.
But you get me. Now you've come to confirm you're not crazy."
Kevin was at a complete and utter loss for words. Finally, he
managed to choke out, "Well, yeah, I write music now and again, just for
something to do." He paused. She seemed to be waiting for him to say more,
although her expression hadn't changed at all. He continued, "Um, yeah, my
friend Alex showed me this place, it's pretty quaint." Once again, she sat
in silence, lighting a cigarette and staring at him intently. He stammered
forward. "I, uh, you know, just thought I'd come over, and, uh, talk to you
a bit, since, since you seem to come here a lot and stuff." His attempt at
courage was completely lost now, and any casual smoothness he had hoped to
exude was absolutely laughable.
Her glare was completely breaking him down now, and he averted his
gaze. She began speaking again. "I'm Asilyn." She took a cool, relaxed
drag from her smoke and slowly let it out.
Kevin looked up again. "I'm Kevin," he answered. He tried to regain
his cool. "So, Asilyn, what do you do, besides come here and write?"
Her position shifted as she sat upright in the booth once more. Her
face became a little softer, more casual, and much more expressive. "You
know," she started, "not much at all. I go to work, I sleep, I eat, I
write. I spend a lot of time relaxing," she added, "and just keeping things
together. You know."
Kevin instantly felt much more at ease with the girl, now that she
had magically turned into a human being. "Yeah, I hear ya," he began. "I
mean, I write music, but that's mostly a hobby. I have to work a regular
job too, pay bills, yadda yadda. Normal life, normal everything," he
summed, and took a long sip of his coffee.
And suddenly, Asilyn violently put out her cigarette, folded her arms
on the table in front of her, and leaned forward. "I like to touch people,"
she said. "People are so uptight about touch." Her eyes became bright and
intense. "When a new waiter or waitress brings me my coffee, I like to
reach over and touch their shoulder, run my hand down their arm. And they
always recoil in horror, as if I had somehow infected them with leprosy and
their limb was no longer human. And I just look at them, you know, LOOK at
them," she said passionately, squinting her eyes a bit and becoming much
more animated. "They think you're crazy. But you're not. It's them,
they're the problem, they're not human, they can't deal with someone
touching them." Asilyn was all spark as she lifted her mug to her lips
again. "Touch is so horrifying. I like to touch. And I wish someone would
touch me."
Kevin was almost taken aback by her radically sudden interest in
conversation, but instead became fuel himself and absorbed her fire. He too
leaned forward. Without even thinking about it, he asked, "Listen, Asilyn,
how about we get out of here, go take a drive, walk around or something?" he
asked, suddenly feeling empowered.
And instantly, Asilyn changed again. She once again sat straight up
in her booth and regained the look of stone. She laughed quietly,
sarcastically. She looked him dead in the eye and sneered, "I don't even
KNOW you."
Kevin was instantly back where he began, feeling like a lost puppy in
rush hour traffic. Cut my losses, he thought. He began sliding out of the
booth and muttering, "Well, Asilyn, nice to meet you..."
Asilyn cut him off. She continued, almost spitting at him now: "You
coward. You're no different than anyone else. Go, go write your music and
read your newspaper and yadda yadda your way through life, go on." She
rearranged herself in her seat again, banged a fist on the table, picked up
her pen and began scribbling insanely.
Kevin was completely aghast. His first instinct was to turn tail and
run, but after she called him out, he knew that wasn't the way he wanted to
leave. No. He stood outside of the booth and leaned down less than a foot
from her engrossed, psychotic writing, and let it out. "Yeah, that's right,
get all personal, because you're the one that comes here and flamboyantly
vies for attention, then shuns anyone who attempts to get to know you.
Don't think that nobody sees through that shit, that's why I'm the only one
who has given you a chance. And if you want to keep playing your games, you
go right ahead, because I'm through with them."
Suddenly, the ever-changing Asilyn suddenly looked up at him, stamped
out her cigarette, and said, "Let's go."
She grabbed her notebook and slid quickly from the booth. She then
grabbed Kevin's arm and nearly yanked him towards the door. She half-
dragged him to the front counter and threw down a five for their coffee.
Kevin then caught up with her and led her to his car.
Once inside and with the car running, Kevin asked, "Okay, so, where
do you--"
"A park. Any park. The closest park, open space, anything," Asilyn
interrupted, and Kevin pulled away.
The car ride was one of the most uncomfortable moments that Kevin had
ever experienced. Asilyn didn't speak; she didn't question, dictate, or
react. And when they pulled into a small park overlooking another part of
the city and parked, she quickly got out of the car and resumed dragging
Kevin by the arm.
By this time, Kevin just had to laugh; this was all so crazy. He
started resisting her pull and laughing out loud. "What in the fuck are we
doing here?" he asked her.
With that, Asilyn stopped, and suddenly took on the appearance of a
playful kitten. She giggled a bit, spun around walking backwards and tugged
on Kevin's arm. "I have to show you something," she smiled. "I know you'll
understand."
She found a bit of shrubbery and foliage on one side of the park and
quickly navigated through it, finding an oasis of sorts with a clearing and
a bit of privacy. "Here," she glanced again at Kevin. "Sit down, here in
the grass."
Kevin was amazed at the sudden turn of events, and was starting to
get a bit suspicious. Yet he sat just the same, and asked, "Okay, what on
earth is this all abou--"
"Shhhh," hissed Asilyn. She kneeled in front of him. "Close your
eyes. I need to show you what I do. You'll understand, you're an artist."
At this point, Kevin really had no other choice but to leave himself
in her hands. He closed his eyes, and soon he felt her hands on his head,
her thumbs just above his eyebrows.
Asilyn began running her fingers down across his face, back up across
his cheeks, alternately babytouching and scratching lightly with her
fingernails. She pressed, she massaged, she tickled, she gouged. And her
hands ran their way across his face, down his neck, across his shoulders,
arms, and chest, down to his stomach and around his sides to his kidneys.
He could feel her breath on his face as she began reciting:
"As the lock broke..." (the backs of her fingertips up his chest)
"Entered warm sea foam..." (circles of tickling touch on his neck)
"Until black night..." (grasping his jawline, thumbs to his lips)
"Struggling to roam..." (clawing to his hair, clearing his face)
"Desperate for the lock..." (moving closer, breath inches from his)
"And some kind of home."
She had nearly wrapped herself around him, and Kevin still hadn't
opened his eyes. The intensity was beyond astounding as she ran her hands
once more to his face and breathed heavily into him. "Open your eyes,
Kevin," she purred, and their eyes locked.
Neither of them moved. Kevin fought every urge to lean forward the
ridiculously short distance to kiss her, to touch her, to give her
everything her body pleaded with him to do. Yet he couldn't, no matter how
much the desire overwhelmed him.
And after what seemed like forever, Asilyn spoke. "Someday, someone
will touch me," she whispered, and her eyes grew sad.
She then sank back away from Kevin and stood up. Neither said a word
as she turned and walked away.
****************************************************************************
# (c)2000 aNAda e'zine aNAda085 .*. by Phairgirl #
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