Tuesday, July 28, 2009

A Short Story

Complacent Denial: A Missed Connection
Ten blocks of downhill action marred by only one near collision with the careless driver of a rusted El Camino, I come to the end of Garnet Street, the business strip of the crunchy community of Pacific Beach, the boardwalk and beach a half-block ahead. Grinding wood upon pavement I clap the tail and catch the board as it rabbit-hops into the air, eyes rising ahead, that which aligns in my sights captivating me.
On the horizon the full orb of the sun has turned a charred orange, hovering seemingly a few inches above the gaping aquatic skyline. Her gait is that of a confident feminist, her body not unlike a lanky yet curvaceously blessed model who realized the benefits of pilates and proper nutrition. Bleached blonde hair with auburn roots, in a pink cherry-blossomed bikini-top and tan Hollister capris, the breeze lending motion to her stillness as she comes to a halt directly ahead of me as if coming against some invisible wall.
I continue walking forward, as silhouetted within the waning sun her head turns, blue eyes luminescent, sparkling akin to the sea while contrasting violently with the deep solar hue. Our eyes connect as I mutually come to a halt. A moment is shared, an unspoken introduction breaking the ice, silently tangible vibes flowing, drawing us together into the promise of what is to come. Curiosity breaks, a mood of blustering anticipation dawning as she turns her body to face me. Her right hand resting naturally upon her waist atop the curve of the hourglass, the left gently lifting and holding up her hair, rays of light twinkling through, sparking off a diamond earring as she shifts her weight to her lead leg, body flowing likewise at the movement.
As moonlight hitting a gargoyle I break the stone of my immobility and take a step forward, her eyes drawing me in. Thoughts interrupted I halt, a vibration followed by the echoing of Beethoven’s Ninth pulls my concentration away from the moment. Fuck. I mouth “sorry” and know she can’t see it. Turning to the side, answering the phone, it is a customer who I can’t afford to lose, Maddie, who similarly represents an opportunity at experience, her recent semester in Italy having refined her allure considerably. Out of the corner of my eye I see her gaze drift to the ground as she glares towards me then forward. Walking off to the left and out of my sight she waves a reluctant goodbye with dainty fingertips over her shoulder, manicured nails flashing in the light as I admire her gait, appreciating the half-heel on her sandals and how her calves and above are perked, noticing the lack of a tan-line anywhere upon her gently toned back.
Rushing through the requisite pleasantries the phone call finally ceases. I drop and hop onto my skateboard, propelling towards the boardwalk, busting a fakie ollie over the curb, sticking it and continuing on. Rolling south searching in vain, I halt at the ferris-wheel on Mission Beach, my eyes following the red, white, and blue bulbs of light as they circulate round, chasing one another so fast trails are left dancing amidst the air.
She’s disappeared and the wonder of the moment collapses around me, fleeting wonder rising up amidst the dust of fallen opportunity. I ignore an incoming call, feeling the last wireless lassoing to have prevented my running wild into a real-life experience, as I skate off in search of another down the boardwalk.
Handing off my skateboard with a grin and a glare alongside a twenty to the valet, I adjust the collar to my polo shirt, tuck my chain, and enter Level III, a trendy lounge with a glassed wall facing the beach. The bartender recognizes me from the gym with an inviting smile. She looks like Jennifer McCarthy only younger and without the silicone. I smile back and take a seat. Ordering a scotch on the rocks, I feel her warm gaze upon my back as I turn to take in the sunset. The first sip flows down my throat, warming my stomach as I absorb the blushing sky, the red sun sliding beneath the distant waves of the horizon as I turn and segue into conversation.