“You know, I used to date a boy in high-school just like him.”
Cara had perfect green eyes. I suppose those eyes were the physical feature to which I was drawn. When we first met, and just now, with her comment regarding a high-school sweetheart, her eyes narrowed and when narrowed they glowed. The atmosphere around us didn’t matter. We could be sitting at our favorite sidewalk café on a quiet street or in the gloom of a club dancing our hearts out; when she narrowed her eyes, her eyes shimmered in a jeweled tone green.
“I thought you too old for high-school remembrances, ” I said not really focused on her comment but on her emerald features.
“What sort of remark is that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I shrugged and looked away. I was always nervous around Cara but not like most people. She chose me, you see, so when her narrowed eyes and lowered voice were directed at me I just looked away and focused on some other salient point of interest and confronted her with my voice or line of logic. “You seem timeless, too old for the nonsense of high school and all its silliness.”
“I endured like all the rest.”
I glanced back at her and she was looking toward the bar where most men leaned, gazing out at the dance floor; their faces dimly reflecting the flashing lights that glared from the ceiling, floor and walls of the club. Her pristine skin and darkly painted lips now seemed to be the only thing that existed, her eyes now in deep shadow.
“Of course, no one really survives,” I said.
She faced me again, a wicked smile on her face, “Oh I survived.” She seemed about to say something more but laughed instead, as if realizing she was about to say too much. Whenever she laughed I felt that I was only her sounding board, the sidekick that made her extraordinary beauty and perfect look a little more normal in a less than perfect world.
“So what was this boy in high school like?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. After we kissed for the first time and I found him wanting he went about with any girl who would have him. He didn’t want any of them except me but he was determined to show me how happy he was; how very much happier he was than say…me.”
It was my turn to laugh and I looked again at the man I had just danced with and who was now walking another girl out to the dance floor. “I suppose we don’t really grow up.”
“Did he hurt you?” she asked me, “that man, did he hurt you just now?”
I had known her long enough not to lie. I watched as he gyrated and swirled the new girl around and looked oh so handsome on the crowded floor and in the flashing lights. I examined myself and searched for that pang of regret. Was I sorry I had not been asked a second time?
“No, honestly no. Which makes me wonder if I’ve not grown too old for clubs, dancing and searching for…I don’t know what.”
“I was hoping you were not going to say ‘meaningful relationships,’” And we both laughed at her tone of voice.
I listened to the music for a time and felt my companion shift and fidget next to me. She got up without a word and began to dance without a partner. She often did – she was rarely asked to dance and I noticed she was only asked by men who seemed to be as beautiful as she. She danced close to the man that had asked me to dance earlier. I knew what was coming and sure enough, he did abandon his partner on the dance floor.
I felt suddenly tired. Suddenly weary of the noise and sway of humanity. I found myself suddenly hungry.
She was like that, my green eyed beauty. She knew when I was hungry and she knew the type of men who would follow her to her car. She knew too I’d be waiting. I suppose I had learned just a little more about her tonight, this slighted beauty with a low self-esteem.
“You won’t ever feed on me will you?” She asked after a rather tedious fight I had with one of her stronger, more determined dance partners.
“Not until you are ready,” I promised.