Rendezvous

The air was reminiscent of summer nights, an undercurrent of buzzing that shook the creaky boards and a thin veil of heat, with the exception of their nuance. The buzzing was not a rhythm that subtly weaved into the chaos heat had invited, but instead an absolutely distasteful sound that had violated her ears. It fluctuated in volume and pitch so often, setting her heart into a nervous melody. On the other hand, the heat felt more like an itchy blanket, and coupled with the moisture that hung in the air, it felt more like a mockery of the favorable ambiance that restless evenings tended to occupy.  

Even though the restaurant was mostly void of a population, it came alive with the shutter of the floorboards and the ringing clang of pots and pans. The barely perceptible movements of morsels of gray fur also kept the two of them company. The two ladies barely assisted with their hushed conversation. 

Evangeline adopted a rigid stance, posture linear against the crooked chair. Her arms floated atop the wooden surface of the table, wary of any contact with the establishment. The lush ivory that was her skin laid taut over sharp bones, pinpricks of beige dotted over her cheekbones that jutted out slightly. Delicate tendrils of pale gold were brushed against her shoulder, the threads carelessly dancing in the draft, deviating from the coiffure that sat dutifully atop her head. She glowed a little against the muted, drab palette of reds, and shined a sort of chemical luminescence. Her skin had mustered a mineral luster despite the mere whispers of light.  

 Claudia wanted to reach out and touch her, to ensure she wouldn’t waver under her fingertips. She still wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t a figment of her imagination, something she pictured to cope with her frequent absence. 

Their knees pressed under the small table, and she felt a fervid numbness in the space that was supposed to be her legs. She felt acutely aware of every cell in her body, the awareness blending in chaotically with the constant buzzing. The pace of her heart was tipped askance the moment her foot hit the floorboards, making the awful wail echo off the cramped walls. 

Every time Evangeline laughed, her heart bled anew. A mellifluous ring, the kind that only came off of silver bells. 

They maintained their chatter until the Waitress came to take their order, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a frenzied manner. Her shoulders were bunched, and her hair was a frazzled mess of a bun. 

Evangeline politely declined while Claudia ordered a glass of orange soda. There wasn’t much you could mess up with a drink. The Waitress scurried away, her hand tightly held onto her tiny notebook and pen.

 She laughed again, and her heartstrings strained. The energy of everything shook her bones and pulled her teeth together. It was all too much, and she was all too aloof. 

The Waitress brought the glass, and Claudia noted how the glass shook a bit in her hands. The rim of the glass was chipped. She drank a bit of the soda and discovered that the flavor was diluted, making for a translucent orange zing that had a modicum of fuzziness. 

Evangeline told her stories of incompetent costars, while Claudia traded her stories of exhausting actors. 

When the Waitress came around, Evangeline asked for the check. Bashfulness traced over the contours of the Waitress’s face and colored her red. She explained that the soda would be on the house and continued her scurry onto the kitchen. A twinge of sorrow cleaved into her bones, cutting through the layers of nervousness that weighed on her, upon realizing that it foreshadowed her leaving.

“Let’s dance.” 

Evangeline lent her hand, thin and dainty. She ignored the fact that there was no music and put her hand into hers. Their steps joined the disjointed song of the restaurant; the whine of the loose floorboards sang with their disjointed steps, and the threads of pale gold had departed from their faithful position from the top of her head. They both laughed, and the cultivation of energy had become a pinnacle that weighed in her chest. They spun, and they jumped and skipped until every board of the floor sang. Their new song reached a crescendo, and the floors and the ceilings and the two other people  in the restaurant erupted into joy. The pans on the walls danced with them, and the Waitress and Chef tapped along the walls in tune. They languished themselves to cavalier joy, a luxury they were often rendered destitute to. The tension from Evangeline had seemed to dissolve while the pinnacle in her chest grew and grew. 

Suddenly the pinnacle in her chest invaded her throat, and it became inflamed with the verity of her eventual departure.

Their dance had gradually slowed until there was little to no movement, and their dance had evolved into the two of them being pressed into a slow, revolving embrace. She was flush against her, while Evangeline’s skin was cool to the touch. 

“Why does it have to be like this?” Claudia murmured against the cheek that pressed against hers.

“I don’t know.” 

Claudia sighed in response.

“It’s hard, Eva, to always keep meeting like this.”

”It really is, in places like these,”

Claudia would’ve laughed, but that pinnacle clogged her throat, making for a nervous sound intended to be a laugh to fall from her mouth. The stillness of the body against hers started to frustrate her, Evangeline’s arms feeling more like galvanized wires that caged her in place than a fond embrace. 

“I know it is Clauds.”

The flickering lights reflected in her amethyst eyes. Her white dress tickled her bare skin. She squeezed the tulle of her skirt, and it bunched in her hands. As if holding onto it would tether her to this escapade. As if it would confirm that any of this was real. 

They tenaciously continued to revolve in their circuitous dance.