Post by The Observer on Feb 10, 2008 15:49:35 GMT -5
A short story about looking deeper into things.
Karen sighed and closed her book as she leaned back against the soft cushions she had set out on the hammock. It was a warm summer day, a quiet breeze blew by, bringing with it the sweet scent of fresh lemonade and friendly chatter of excited sparrows. Karen smiled to herself and held her book to her chest. It was a book of stories and poetry, more of a collection than a book really. It had all of her favorites; Yeats, Frost, Steinbeck, Hemmingway, as well as some more modern or obscure writers like Sappho, Lawson, Faulkner and Seldas. The stories were about everything. About love and life, beauty and ugliness. Karen liked them all. They were good stories, light, refreshing stories to be sipped at on a summer’s day. Nothing too deep or brooding, but enough to make her think a little, enough to surprise her, to make her laugh, or to make her cry.
She had just finished it. And now she lay in her hammock, her thick hair fell back through the netting and almost dragged along the ground. She shut her eyes and let the gentle rocking of the hammock lull her to sleep as the simple comforts of summer willed her away to simpler times and safer places.
She was in a car. In a car driving through the city. Buildings towered about her, casting their shadows of self-importance over the populace that scampered below. She was driving slowly by the shops that littered the first floor of every building. The groceries, the coffee shops, the restaurants, the flower stores. Suddenly, she pulled over and parallel parked out in front of a shop. She couldn’t see the name of it. A tree blocked her view of the entrance. She got out the car and tried to make her way toward the shop, but the sidewalk was strangely crowded. People pushed and jostled her rudely about. One man gave her a violent shove and she was thrown onto the ground.
Karen looked about her, she was on the ground, and the hammock swung lazily above her. She had been dreaming and had fallen out of the hammock. Realizing this, she laughed as she picked herself up and, brushing the dirt from her clothes and book, went inside.
She had been asleep for longer than she expected. It was late afternoon now, and she had work to do before her presentation tomorrow. Lazily she turned on the T.V as she sat on the couch and pulled her laptop onto her lap. She flipped through the channels, browsing, while it booted. There was nothing on, and as she accessed her work she found herself daydreaming about that shop. She found herself thinking, trying to figure out what shop it was or why she was so interested in going. Oh well, strange things happen in dreams. No use agonizing over them. She got back to work and worked late into the night.
The crowd had thinned and she could see her way to the entrance of the shop. She made her way towards it, this was her chance! It was a little café with tables set up on the sidewalk. It was midday, and customers were comfortably snacking on their various lunches, enjoying the sun and chatting good-naturedly. Some where conducting business, other meeting with friends. One couple was obviously in love, they were leaning over the table, whispering and laughing quietly. Starting into each other’s eyes as their food grew cold. She reached towards the door, when something, or rather, someone, caught her eye.
As a young girl she had had many crushes, many daydreams and fantasies of princes in shinning armor or of celebrities and teen idols, but if all these long-forgotten dreams could be rolled into one man, he was it. He was strong, but not overly large or muscular. He had a large, warm face and bright eyes. His hair was short and well styled, and his dress was casual but suited him well. He sat across from another man, who must have just said something funny, for the two started laughing. Karen watched him laugh, watched his face light up with that warm smile and his eyes flash with amusement. Watched that strong chest heave and haw. Just looking at him she knew he was perfect. Hands that were strong, but gentle. A face that was soft and kind. A voice that was tender and inviting. If only he would speak her name. To hear her name spoken by that voice! And those eyes. Eyes alive with thought. Eyes bright with a thousand witty ideas. Eyes as deep as a sea and as powerful and everlasting as the mountain. Eyes calm, eyes kind, eyes loving…She could get lost in his eyes. And now, with his eyes bright with laughter, she thought she would melt. And when his friend noticed her staring, her hand still on the doorknob, and when he turned to look at her, she thought she would die. She just stood there, she was certain her heart had stopped, she wanted to say something, to do something. But she just stood, staring, speechless. Every second feeling more stupid, more awkward, more angry with herself, and more totally in love with this man. This man who smiled at her (she was convinced her heart had left her body now), this man who stood up from his chair and was clearly going to come over and talk to her.
“I’ll be back in a minute Mike,”
he called to his friend as he pushed his chair in and made his way between tables toward Karen. Karen was now back to earth, and her heart, recently returned, was making up for lost time by hammering out what seemed to be a thousand beats a minute. Hurriedly she closed the door to the shop. She couldn’t think, she didn’t know what to do, what to say, and the man was coming closer. There was only one table between them now. A business man was sitting there. And at the exact moment her prince in shining armor opened his mouth to speak, the business man’s cell phone went off. And kept going off. Louder, and louder, and louder, and
Karen awoke to her cell phone ringing. The TV droned lifelessly, her project staring blankly back at her from her laptop screen. She had pulled an all-nighter and had fallen asleep. Her cell phone was ringing. She checked it, it was a text message. She was supposed to give Meg a ride. She was supposed to have picked her up ten minutes ago.
For the next five minutes, Karen’s room was a mad dash of activity as she hurried to get everything she needed for the day, but in cutting a few corners when it came to makeup and hygiene, and by violating several laws of physics when it comes to the speed one can get dressed and do one’s hair, she was ready and out the door and able to pick up Meg. The whole time she was giving Meg a ride, the dream kept playing over and over in her head. She made the usual conversation, small talk and such. But her mind was not on the talking or the driving, it was on the dream. And as Karen drove, a growing resolution took form in her mind. By the end of the ride, she was determined, and after she let Meg off, she knew what she was going to do. She would find that café, she would find where her dream took place, she would find this man, and this time, she wouldn’t just stare stupidly.
It was with this in mind that Karen pulled back into the city traffic, and then realized that in her dream she had neglected one thing: to check the name of the restaurant.
“ARRRGH!”
With a frustrated cry she threw herself against the steering wheel. There must be a million restaurants like the one in her dream. And somehow she felt certain that Mr. Right was going to be there today. And if she didn’t find him today, then she never would. She racked her brains, trying to think of what the restaurant looked like. Of any sign, any clue that might help her. In the dream it had felt so familiar, she had been so sure of herself, why not now? Was it some place she knew? Some place she had been before? She drove around aimlessly, searching for cafes.
By midday, she was exhausted and had lost any hope of finding it. No one café looked any more familiar than the next. They all looked like her dream and none of them looked like her dream. It was hopeless. She sunk into a new despair. It was worse than if her had never dreamt at all. To have it like this was like losing Mr. Right without ever getting to meet him. To be condemned to forever wonder what true love really could have been like. Not like that couple there, they seemed to be in love. In fact, their food was probably getting cold.
Karen slammed on her brakes and the car behind her honked angrily. She cringed in apology and pulled over to parallel park. That was the café, those were the lovers in her dream! She practically through the car into park and leapt out and toward the shop. There was the business man she remembered. Then that would men that Mr. Right…
Was not there. Everyone was exactly were they should be. Everyone. Everyone except Mr. Right. Instead, there sat at his table a short, slightly pale man with dirty brown hair and a dog lying contentedly at his feet. His shoulders where slightly stooped and his face was lean, a wide pallor ending in a weak chin. His hands did not look strong and gentle, they were thin and lined, with long, quick fingers that dashed across the papers in front of him, writing furiously like spiders possessed by some vengeful god. This was not Mr. Right. Karen, took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Everything was just like her dream. Why would this one thing, the most important thing, be different?
A pleasant thought held her together. Perhaps it was simply the wrong time. Perhaps this silly pale man would leave and her love would appear. She stood by the door, waiting. Waiting anxiously, fervently. She found herself going over how she must look, she regretted getting ready so quickly today. She thought of her compact, but she had left it in the car, and she couldn’t leave to get it now. She didn’t want to miss him.
The business man’s cell phone rang. Karen heard it a grew very pale. He answered it, picked up his things, and still talking, left. He had left. She had not been at the wrong time. Mr. Right was supposed to meet her right before the cell phone rang. And now the business man had left, so Mr. Right could never get here now. The business man was supposed to be there.
Karen felt like a child who awoke of Christmas to find all their presents, and the tree and the decorations, gone. It had been so real! Just like her dream, everything exactly like her dream. What had she done wrong? She walked back to her car and got in. For a long time she just sat behind the wheel. She didn’t cry, it wasn’t that kind of sadness. But it was a sadness that, given time, can run far deeper and grow far sadder than any other. Karen gave a rueful laugh and chided herself for being so silly. For letting a silly dream upset her. For getting so worked up that she fooled herself into believing that she had dreamed about people and places. She started her car and pulled away. She felt a little better, it was all quite silly after all, it’s what happens when one lets one’s emotions run unchecked. It all had a perfectly rational explanation. Karen knew it was all perfectly rational, but some things run far deeper than reason.
A pale man sat in front of a café, papers and notebooks strewn about him, filled with the writings of an unsteady hand, but a firm mind. He was putting the finishing touches on one of his latest works. He had gotten an idea, and when he had an idea, the story practically wrote itself, the words coming to his mind faster than he could put them down. Long, spidery fingers scribbled furiously, then suddenly stopped. He looked toward the door to the café. Someone had been there a moment ago. Someone who, to his writer’s eye, looked very familiar. Perhaps she resembled a character from one of his stories, or even…No, he shook his head. He had finished the section he came here to finish. The girl was gone, and he had other places to go, other things to do. He stood up and pulled on the leash of his dog, who was reluctant to leave his sunbathing. He gave the leash another jerk and the dog grudgingly stood up.
“Come one Mike, it’s time to go.”
Karen sighed and closed her book as she leaned back against the soft cushions she had set out on the hammock. It was a warm summer day, a quiet breeze blew by, bringing with it the sweet scent of fresh lemonade and friendly chatter of excited sparrows. Karen smiled to herself and held her book to her chest. It was a book of stories and poetry, more of a collection than a book really. It had all of her favorites; Yeats, Frost, Steinbeck, Hemmingway, as well as some more modern or obscure writers like Sappho, Lawson, Faulkner and Seldas. The stories were about everything. About love and life, beauty and ugliness. Karen liked them all. They were good stories, light, refreshing stories to be sipped at on a summer’s day. Nothing too deep or brooding, but enough to make her think a little, enough to surprise her, to make her laugh, or to make her cry.
She had just finished it. And now she lay in her hammock, her thick hair fell back through the netting and almost dragged along the ground. She shut her eyes and let the gentle rocking of the hammock lull her to sleep as the simple comforts of summer willed her away to simpler times and safer places.
She was in a car. In a car driving through the city. Buildings towered about her, casting their shadows of self-importance over the populace that scampered below. She was driving slowly by the shops that littered the first floor of every building. The groceries, the coffee shops, the restaurants, the flower stores. Suddenly, she pulled over and parallel parked out in front of a shop. She couldn’t see the name of it. A tree blocked her view of the entrance. She got out the car and tried to make her way toward the shop, but the sidewalk was strangely crowded. People pushed and jostled her rudely about. One man gave her a violent shove and she was thrown onto the ground.
Karen looked about her, she was on the ground, and the hammock swung lazily above her. She had been dreaming and had fallen out of the hammock. Realizing this, she laughed as she picked herself up and, brushing the dirt from her clothes and book, went inside.
She had been asleep for longer than she expected. It was late afternoon now, and she had work to do before her presentation tomorrow. Lazily she turned on the T.V as she sat on the couch and pulled her laptop onto her lap. She flipped through the channels, browsing, while it booted. There was nothing on, and as she accessed her work she found herself daydreaming about that shop. She found herself thinking, trying to figure out what shop it was or why she was so interested in going. Oh well, strange things happen in dreams. No use agonizing over them. She got back to work and worked late into the night.
The crowd had thinned and she could see her way to the entrance of the shop. She made her way towards it, this was her chance! It was a little café with tables set up on the sidewalk. It was midday, and customers were comfortably snacking on their various lunches, enjoying the sun and chatting good-naturedly. Some where conducting business, other meeting with friends. One couple was obviously in love, they were leaning over the table, whispering and laughing quietly. Starting into each other’s eyes as their food grew cold. She reached towards the door, when something, or rather, someone, caught her eye.
As a young girl she had had many crushes, many daydreams and fantasies of princes in shinning armor or of celebrities and teen idols, but if all these long-forgotten dreams could be rolled into one man, he was it. He was strong, but not overly large or muscular. He had a large, warm face and bright eyes. His hair was short and well styled, and his dress was casual but suited him well. He sat across from another man, who must have just said something funny, for the two started laughing. Karen watched him laugh, watched his face light up with that warm smile and his eyes flash with amusement. Watched that strong chest heave and haw. Just looking at him she knew he was perfect. Hands that were strong, but gentle. A face that was soft and kind. A voice that was tender and inviting. If only he would speak her name. To hear her name spoken by that voice! And those eyes. Eyes alive with thought. Eyes bright with a thousand witty ideas. Eyes as deep as a sea and as powerful and everlasting as the mountain. Eyes calm, eyes kind, eyes loving…She could get lost in his eyes. And now, with his eyes bright with laughter, she thought she would melt. And when his friend noticed her staring, her hand still on the doorknob, and when he turned to look at her, she thought she would die. She just stood there, she was certain her heart had stopped, she wanted to say something, to do something. But she just stood, staring, speechless. Every second feeling more stupid, more awkward, more angry with herself, and more totally in love with this man. This man who smiled at her (she was convinced her heart had left her body now), this man who stood up from his chair and was clearly going to come over and talk to her.
“I’ll be back in a minute Mike,”
he called to his friend as he pushed his chair in and made his way between tables toward Karen. Karen was now back to earth, and her heart, recently returned, was making up for lost time by hammering out what seemed to be a thousand beats a minute. Hurriedly she closed the door to the shop. She couldn’t think, she didn’t know what to do, what to say, and the man was coming closer. There was only one table between them now. A business man was sitting there. And at the exact moment her prince in shining armor opened his mouth to speak, the business man’s cell phone went off. And kept going off. Louder, and louder, and louder, and
Karen awoke to her cell phone ringing. The TV droned lifelessly, her project staring blankly back at her from her laptop screen. She had pulled an all-nighter and had fallen asleep. Her cell phone was ringing. She checked it, it was a text message. She was supposed to give Meg a ride. She was supposed to have picked her up ten minutes ago.
For the next five minutes, Karen’s room was a mad dash of activity as she hurried to get everything she needed for the day, but in cutting a few corners when it came to makeup and hygiene, and by violating several laws of physics when it comes to the speed one can get dressed and do one’s hair, she was ready and out the door and able to pick up Meg. The whole time she was giving Meg a ride, the dream kept playing over and over in her head. She made the usual conversation, small talk and such. But her mind was not on the talking or the driving, it was on the dream. And as Karen drove, a growing resolution took form in her mind. By the end of the ride, she was determined, and after she let Meg off, she knew what she was going to do. She would find that café, she would find where her dream took place, she would find this man, and this time, she wouldn’t just stare stupidly.
It was with this in mind that Karen pulled back into the city traffic, and then realized that in her dream she had neglected one thing: to check the name of the restaurant.
“ARRRGH!”
With a frustrated cry she threw herself against the steering wheel. There must be a million restaurants like the one in her dream. And somehow she felt certain that Mr. Right was going to be there today. And if she didn’t find him today, then she never would. She racked her brains, trying to think of what the restaurant looked like. Of any sign, any clue that might help her. In the dream it had felt so familiar, she had been so sure of herself, why not now? Was it some place she knew? Some place she had been before? She drove around aimlessly, searching for cafes.
By midday, she was exhausted and had lost any hope of finding it. No one café looked any more familiar than the next. They all looked like her dream and none of them looked like her dream. It was hopeless. She sunk into a new despair. It was worse than if her had never dreamt at all. To have it like this was like losing Mr. Right without ever getting to meet him. To be condemned to forever wonder what true love really could have been like. Not like that couple there, they seemed to be in love. In fact, their food was probably getting cold.
Karen slammed on her brakes and the car behind her honked angrily. She cringed in apology and pulled over to parallel park. That was the café, those were the lovers in her dream! She practically through the car into park and leapt out and toward the shop. There was the business man she remembered. Then that would men that Mr. Right…
Was not there. Everyone was exactly were they should be. Everyone. Everyone except Mr. Right. Instead, there sat at his table a short, slightly pale man with dirty brown hair and a dog lying contentedly at his feet. His shoulders where slightly stooped and his face was lean, a wide pallor ending in a weak chin. His hands did not look strong and gentle, they were thin and lined, with long, quick fingers that dashed across the papers in front of him, writing furiously like spiders possessed by some vengeful god. This was not Mr. Right. Karen, took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Everything was just like her dream. Why would this one thing, the most important thing, be different?
A pleasant thought held her together. Perhaps it was simply the wrong time. Perhaps this silly pale man would leave and her love would appear. She stood by the door, waiting. Waiting anxiously, fervently. She found herself going over how she must look, she regretted getting ready so quickly today. She thought of her compact, but she had left it in the car, and she couldn’t leave to get it now. She didn’t want to miss him.
The business man’s cell phone rang. Karen heard it a grew very pale. He answered it, picked up his things, and still talking, left. He had left. She had not been at the wrong time. Mr. Right was supposed to meet her right before the cell phone rang. And now the business man had left, so Mr. Right could never get here now. The business man was supposed to be there.
Karen felt like a child who awoke of Christmas to find all their presents, and the tree and the decorations, gone. It had been so real! Just like her dream, everything exactly like her dream. What had she done wrong? She walked back to her car and got in. For a long time she just sat behind the wheel. She didn’t cry, it wasn’t that kind of sadness. But it was a sadness that, given time, can run far deeper and grow far sadder than any other. Karen gave a rueful laugh and chided herself for being so silly. For letting a silly dream upset her. For getting so worked up that she fooled herself into believing that she had dreamed about people and places. She started her car and pulled away. She felt a little better, it was all quite silly after all, it’s what happens when one lets one’s emotions run unchecked. It all had a perfectly rational explanation. Karen knew it was all perfectly rational, but some things run far deeper than reason.
A pale man sat in front of a café, papers and notebooks strewn about him, filled with the writings of an unsteady hand, but a firm mind. He was putting the finishing touches on one of his latest works. He had gotten an idea, and when he had an idea, the story practically wrote itself, the words coming to his mind faster than he could put them down. Long, spidery fingers scribbled furiously, then suddenly stopped. He looked toward the door to the café. Someone had been there a moment ago. Someone who, to his writer’s eye, looked very familiar. Perhaps she resembled a character from one of his stories, or even…No, he shook his head. He had finished the section he came here to finish. The girl was gone, and he had other places to go, other things to do. He stood up and pulled on the leash of his dog, who was reluctant to leave his sunbathing. He gave the leash another jerk and the dog grudgingly stood up.
“Come one Mike, it’s time to go.”