Clockwork Romance (4 page)

“Well…” she says with a light smile, “…what do you th
ink some of those things are?” It doesn’t take me long to think of a response.

“Off the top of my head, I can tell that we’re both relatively lonely, searching for something that can fill that gap that… only seems to get larger as time goes by. And I can assure you right now, that doing something as simple as eating breakfast with someone else can fill that gap just enough to where my sanity doesn’t cave in. I don’t know what it is that you might be looking for, but me, I’m getting tired of never seeing anyone for a second time.”

“And why’s that?” she inquires.

“I haven’t quite figure that out yet. You know, I could ramble all day long about that, but, to be honest, I’m sick of the past. I don’t spend enough time paying attention to the moment I’m living in… like right now. Frankly, I’d like to get to know someone else for a change.” I wasn’t sure if I had blown it yet, but I wish I could just stop talking.

We order our food, and I spend the rest of the morning listening to her story. I guess I haven’t screwed up enough to scare her off. That’s good. That’s a plus. We actually hit it off pretty well. She is the same age as I am, in school, and has trouble with relationships. I can’t understand why that’s so, but I’m not going to judge her. Hannah might as well be the female version of me. However, she has a legitimate job, instead of selling dope like me. She’s not the pathetic one at the table. I continue to listen to her, wondering if I truly want to impose myself in her life. Do I want to break this sweet girl’s heart? Do I really have what it takes to start a new relationship right now?  I thought I did, but it was just because I wanted one so badly. Now that I realize that I have a potential opportunity, it’s not what I need right now. I need to change who I am, to become the kind of man who deserves a woman like Hannah. I need to have something to offer her, not just a promise that I’ll be there for her. A million guys can do that. I need to have something about myself that can improve her life… forever. Not just a couple of weeks or months.

“You know what the strangest thing is?” Hannah mentions. She has my full attention.

“What’s that?” I respond.

“We feel so
comfortable talking about ourselves, despite only being total strangers. I guess you were right about us being so alike.” I have to agree, but also have to interrupt.

“Listen, Hannah…” I feel like she knew what I was going to say, like she could read my mind. “…right now… isn’t the best time for me to… get involved with anyone.” I attempt to put my hand over hers, but she pulls away, then the look in her eyes told me that she was ready to leave.

“I should’ve known,” she mutters, completely turned off. A reaction like that indicates that she has been through this before. It also indicates that she too was looking for a relationship, or maybe she was just thinking I wasn’t interested in her. I know I have to fix this.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I quickly utter, “don’t go anywhere. Hear me out please. She stayed to let me give her one final plea. “My life is a wreck right now. It would be useless starting a new relationship on those terms.  I need time. But I promise you…” I attempt to put my hand over hers one more time. This time she doesn’t pull away. “When things are better, I will talk to you again. You are right. We are strangers. But I like you. That’s why I want to wait. You deserve so much better and I want to give you that. But I need time.” I give her one of the most sincere look
s I’ve ever given anyone. “I give you my word.”

“Okay,” Hannah accepts.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Alright,” she says, with a forgiving look. She brushes the stray locks of hair in front of her face behind her ear. I take out some money and throw it on the table. I want to walk Hannah to her car, to let her know that I care about her.

Just as she reaches her car door, I tell her, “Before you go…” Her bod turns to face me. I look into her piercing eyes as she waits for me to say or do something else. I hug her. Her arms reach over my shoulders as I rest my chin on her shoulder.

“Goodbye.” I say it first, then her.

“Call me when you get things straightened out,” she tells me.

“Will do,” I tell her. Hannah gets in her car and drives
off. Afterwards, I go to my own. I really hope I see her again.

Chapter 4

The remainder of the day consisted of making a bit of money from something I don’t want to be a part of anymore. The day ends with me back in Jade’s Pub contemplating how I plan to retire from my day job and make myself into the man I want to be. I still give myself the credit of still being in college. Maybe I should just sell it all and put the money in the bank. I could start life over, and it wouldn’t be too hard. But I need to use the time wisely. After all, people don’t just change overnight. No one does. Even though I feel like I’m doing the right thing, I also feel like shit at the same time. When I was a kid, I never expected that this would be the life I’d be living now. It just doesn’t make sense. I feel like the only people who are successful are the ones born that way. You know, the ones with rich parents who put them through school and give them virtually anything. Me, I wasn’t brought up in a broken home, but I was a rebellious teenager nonetheless. I guess that phase stuck around so long, it got the better of me. But look at me now. I am successful, in a sort of way. But I make dirty money. I have no one to share my life, my apartment, or my time with. That last thought makes me take another drink. When you get older, you begin to feel like you have to belong somewhere, especially if you’re alone, then the feeling is only worse. As teenagers, we don’t think so far into the future to know how our lives will turn out. Instead, we live in the moment. Unfortunately, I’ve found myself dwelling in the past for so long, the future is starting to escape me. It’s time for me to start thinking ahead again. I feel like I’m contradicting thoughts that I’ve made in the past. Maybe that a sign of me beginning to change… hopefully.

I keep
Hannah in my mind to keep me sort of motivated. Her name is kind of like my mantra. I’ve only known her since this morning, but… I don’t know. At the same time, I feel as if she was ready to move on. How embarrassing would it be for me to change so that I would finally be ready to begin a normal life and have a beautiful woman with me only to find out that she has either lost interest or found somebody else? But I shouldn’t think like that. Only positives from now on, right? Right.

I take another drink, keeping Hannah’s image in my head. What comes to mind first are her mysterious eyes, so innocent, yet so seductive. They’re not plain and absent of liveliness like I’ve seen in the eyes of others. You can’t look at them once and soon forget about them. The real mystery is how she is single. She doesn’t have an hourglass bod
y, nor are the contours of her body completely parallel, as though she’s a rectangle. She is fit. Perfect skin, smile, eyes, legs… Sorry. I might be getting carried away. The point is, if I want a gorgeous woman like Hannah, I need to deserve her.

It was already past ten o’ clock, but I’ve only had two beers.
I turn around in my barstool to get up and leave, but before I do, I notice something. Someone… familiar. Over on the other side of the bar where there wasn’t much light, except for a few neon signs, were a few booths against the wall. In one booth, there was a woman sitting down facing away. She had her hair down. Her hair was dark. I froze for a few seconds. It was the same girl I’ve seen walking around my apartment building. She had that look, the look I’ve seen before. For most people, they wouldn’t be able to tell, but I knew it was her. Somehow, I just knew. Honestly, there aren’t very many things I’m sure of, but this… this was one of them. I get out of my seat and begin to walk towards the shadowy woman. She was by herself, with a clear drink, probably vodka. I walk slowly, trying to be cool. But I wasn’t. I’m too nervous for some inexplicable reason. I gotta go back. Before the night is over, or before she leaves, I will find out who she is.

I go back to my stool, staring into space, trying to decide what to say. Periodically, I turn my head, making sure she hasn’t left yet. It feels almost as if she’s waiting for me. Weird, right? I think so. She probably thinks so too. Right in the middle of my thought, I hear a voice.

“So…” the voice says. I turn my head, surprised by who I see. I didn’t expect to see who I was staring at. It was her. The woman. She’s even more beautiful face-to-face. She was wearing the same black hoodie that I’ve seen her wear before. I looked into her green eyes as she finished speaking. “… Do you want to tell me something or is staring at me from a distance good enough?” She didn’t seem bothered. Actually, by the way her eyes looked, she appeared flattered. I lightly smile back to her.

“I’m sorry. But I… feel like I’ve seen you before. I guess I just wanted to know who you were. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” she responded, smiling back. She put her elbows on the bar, but didn’t sit down. She now spoke with the left side of her face facing me. “So, do you still want to know who I am?” I thought about that carefully. Is this a trick? Who cares? I decided to go along with it.

“Yeah,” I answered, unsure of whether or not I would regret my decision.

“Well…” she said, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “… too bad.” She stood straight up again, facing me, and continued, “To be honest, I don’t even know who
you
are, but…” She looked like she was gaining interest. “… if you want to come back to my table, maybe we can answer each other’s questions.” She nodded towards her booth, where her drink waited.

“Let’s go,” I say. She grinned. I got up, and we walked over to her booth. Since I wouldn’t like her to be drinking alone, I ordered another beer before sitting down. I gave the bartender
his payment and told him not to worry about the change.

As I sat down, I felt some sort of uneasiness, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I’m not used to the woman coming up to me to start the conversation, since I’m usually the one who initiates small talk. The woman sat on the other side of the booth, so I sat where she was previously sitting before she came over to me. I drink a drink while admiring her, while
she looked off to the side, almost as if she had forgotten I was there. I spoke first after swallowing my drink. “You know, I’m curious, but how’d you know that I was looking at you?” Her face then turned, then her eyes stared into mine. I must say, it was difficult maintaining eye contact with her. Her green eyes were so beautiful, I felt like if I were to stare into them for too long, she would steal my soul. Silly I know, but it’s the only way I can describe them.

“I have eyes in the back of my head,” she joked. Truly, I don’t know if that was a joke. She didn’t correct herself. I chuckled anyway. “So tell me something about yourself,” She said
.

I’ve always thought that was such an ambiguous question, so I answered, “What do you want to know the most?”

“Um… what do you do?” That question too is such a cliché, a bore.

“That’s what you want to know? What I do?” I said, unable to keep myself from grinning.

“It’s an overly asked question, I know, but still a reasonable one, especially if the person being asked seems so defensive, which only makes me more interested.” Her smile was just as beautiful as her eyes.

“What I do…” I muttered. I had flashes of my everyday life, dealing drugs and making dirty money. “… isn’t important,” I say. “But was is important is who I am.”

“Well, just so you know, it’s what you do that defines who you are. For instance, if you were to die, let’s say tonight, how will you be addressed in the newspaper, for example? I mean unless you’re some kind of high profile celebrity or an otherwise well-known person, your name means nothing. So…” She took out a pack of cigarettes, put one in her lips, and lit it. “… what would the headline read?” As she exhaled, she offered me a cigarette by holding the pack with its open end towards me and raising her eyebrows.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” I say.

“Ok
ay,” she said, as if I was missing out, “I’m trying to quit myself.”

“No you’re not,” I interrupted.

“What?” she questioned, so I answered, “If you were really trying to quit, you wouldn’t be smoking right now. You’re contradicting yourself as we speak. You see, I used to smoke for about seven years, until one day, I just… stopped. There’s a difference between trying and doing.”

“Then I guess that makes me a liar,” she returned. She took another drag, then exhaled. “Which brings us back to you. What are you?” I thought about it again, but didn’t want to tell the
truth about what I am. Besides, I’m trying to change what I am. Shit. Maybe I should start practicing what I preach.

“Nothing,” I finally answered.

“Nothing?” she said, which made her giggle.

“Yeah,” I respond

“Nothing dies in a horrible car crash,” she joked, acting like she was reading from an invisible newspaper. “I’d hate to shatter your cynicism, but everyone is something. Whether you’re a bum living in an alley or a millionaire living in a mansion, it doesn’t matter. Look around, everyone in here is something, somebody.” My eyes shifted from people playing pool, to people sitting in other booths, to the bartender himself. She finished her thought, “It’s impossible to be nothing. You could be sitting down, standing up, or lying down. You could be breathing or holding your breath. But whatever you’re doing, it’s always something.”

Her thought was interesting, so I said, “Makes sense I guess.”

“Do you have to guess?”

“I suppose not.”

She exhaled another cloud of smoke, then said, “Let me ask you something. Let’s say you wanted to date me.”

“Okay,” I said, like I was just being offered.

She continued, “What’s so special about you that sets you apart from every other guy in here, or anywhere else for that matter? What is it that you have to offer?” Before she lets me answer, she continues a little more. “And don’t say that you’re a nice guy, because that doesn’t mean shit to any woman. Think about it this way. If I could look into your life, do you think I’d want to be a part of it? Would I want to share my life with yours?”

“Uh…” I muttered, “… considering how little I know about you, I don’t know if I can answer that. But if I had to, I would say no. At least not at this moment anyway.”
She looked fascinated.

“Why’s that?” she questioned.

“Because right now, I’m kind of going through a transitional state, and, now’s not a good time for me to be in a relationship.”

“Well that’s too bad,” she responds, sympathizing with me.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “You’re the type of girl who can have any man she wants.”

“But I don’t want just any man. I want the right man, the one who I would really want to share my life with.”

“Let me guess,” I said, “he’s got to be as gorgeous as you are with so much money, you could retire in Beverly Hills.”

“No,” she said, “not at all.” She put out her cigarette in a small ashtray sitting on the side of the table nearest the wall. “Actually money and looks aren’t as important to me as the chemistry and the qualities of someone’s personality.”

“Bullshit,” I told her. “Women say that all the time, but it’s never true. Looks, money, and social status are everything.”

“Well of course it’s bullshit,” she agreed. “I’m simply stating that money and looks aren’t what make a relationship work
. Now I’m aware that there has to be an attraction of some kind, but you’ll find that most women would rather have true love with a poor man than be fucked by some rich guy who treats her like shit. In case you haven’t noticed, I didn’t ask you how much money you made, and… I wouldn’t say you’re the hottest guy in the bar.” We both chuckled at that second part.

I said, “But you did ask what I do.”

“Yes,” she answered, “but that was because I was interested in you, and who you are.” A few seconds of silence passed, but they weren’t uncomfortable. She speaks again, “To be honest with you, I was a late bloomer.” I didn’t believe it. Someone as beautiful as her must have been that way her entire life. “I didn’t have a lot of friends when I was younger, and not much self-esteem. But when I… improved, people began to notice. But I never let it go to my head. I knew who really loved me and who didn’t, even if they were pretending. And of course, with people who like you, also come people who don’t. Jealousy is such a stupid thing. Believe it or not, I was called a whore, even when I was still a virgin. I mean, take a look at celebrities. Some people hate celebrities just because they didn’t really do anything of importance to become famous, or because they’re stupid, annoying, or aren’t good role models. Let me tell you, people hate them
because
the celebrities are famous, and the people doing all the hating aren’t. The celebrities are living their lives the way they want to. They’re not trying to live up to anybody else’s stupid expectations. Has a certain someone done anything bad personally to someone to create such an animosity?”

“You’re absolutely right.
It’s just easier to hate people when they’re easier targets.”

“Exactly,” she said. “People look at me and they think I’m a bitch. Maybe it’s because they don’t find themselves as attractive as the
y find me, but it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve never done anything to anyone. I mean, do I come off as a rude person to you?”

I had just finished swallowing another sip when she asked me. “Not at all. In fact,
I think you’re a very insightful and intelligent person.”