She's something sly; something else

She's something sly I'd wager; something else.

I made my way to the club, if you could call it that. The building had been, in the distant past, a railway stop on the B & O, which was converted to a textile factory and later abandoned after a fire. Much later, it was reclaimed by the city, then sold off to a private developer. Later still, it was sold at a profit to a local nobody, who altered the interior in a most haphazard way to create an industrial dance club and bar.

The lights hung low inside the glass block front, dancing in yellow, red and blue intermittently cut by gyrating silhouettes. From the outside, one had the impression that all manner of naughty, dirty, and downright fun things were happening in the dim interior, a very enticing notion. It had all the trappings of a gritty, no-good spot on the wrong side of the tracks, and sure enough, it was just that.

I entered through the blue-lit door and greeted the girl on security duty. She was a pleasantly filled out number with dyed black hair and a lopsided smile. I wondered if the smile were lopsided on account of the rings that pierced her lip, but rather suspected that she was the kind of shy girl who did not like smiling, but could not help herself; the contradiction in desires always seems to give a crooked smile with one cheek pinched up into almost a wink, the other cheek pushed down in feigned disinterest. It's cute when a pretty girl tries not to smile, endearing almost.

She took my money and stamped the inside of my wrist, running her finger across my palm coquettishly as the ink dried. I looked into her eyes and her smile broke wide, wide enough that her eyes almost closed. Were it not for the blue light, I would imagine she was blushing furiously. I smiled at her, giving a short wink, and walked through the reception area into the club proper.

My first stop was the bar, always a solid choice. I leaned between a large woman and a short man, ordering a Guinness. I paid in cash, and left the tip under a spent shot glass with some syrupy blue liquid pooling in the bottom. I drank the first half of my beer quickly, savoring the bottom as I surveyed my surroundings and fellow patrons.

Two drinks later I had not left the bar, and was beginning to think this night out had been a wasted idea. I excused myself upon polishing off the contents of my glass, and took my time in the restroom. I pulled a comb through my dark brown hair and patted some cool water on my face to fend off the heat of the dancing bodies just a few feet away. Feeling slightly refreshed, I rejoined the mass of Thursday night drinkers and wandered around the club.

There was not much to see on the second floor, though I was impressed by the gutted and converted machines that were once of use in the old factory, and now served as benches, chairs, and tables. The bar there was closed and the lights were slightly brighter, except in the corners where various couples of various genders played with each other in the shadows. I sighed heavily and wandered back downstairs to the wider floor and less engaged individuals.

I don't know what I had been expecting. I had the notion that there was something special in the air today, something unusual. I waited all through my working hours for some kind of sign, some signal that the world was indeed different, if only for an afternoon. When at last I had climbed aboard the light rail to make my way home, I had all but given up on the idea. Then on the train, some pretty girl with long hair the color of buckwheat honey and large, clever blue eyes motioned for me to come to her, and I did. Her blue eyes lit up like lightning across a summer sky, and she leaned in toward my ear, whispering.

“The station.” That is all that I could remember from our brief conversation; that and the feeling that my head was swimming. She was gone before I came to my stop, though where she went I could not be sure.

Now here, I feel like a fool. She must have been a promoter, or the owner's girlfriend, or just some girl who thought I looked the part to enjoy the scene. It was nothing after all; a trifle encounter with a pretty face I'd never see again. Crestfallen, I made my way toward the door.

That's when I saw her. Not the one from the train, with clever blue eyes; this one was something different altogether.

I caught her in the corner of my eye, dancing like falling water in an empty space; her movements so fluid one might think she were not encumbered by gravity. Her hips twisting like a serpent, her arms undulating like rising smoke. Pale hair, not gray but silvery white, spilling down her shoulders and back, gently sweeping the top of her bottom like fingertips tracing a quiet pool. I swallowed hard and closed my mouth, hoping that no one had noticed my gawking. She turned toward me, motioning with one sinuous finger. I followed her command without a second thought, walking awkwardly toward her, my feet feeling suddenly heavy.

She said nothing, only smiled and pulled me closer. Everything about her was light and ethereal; even her hand on my shoulder felt like a cool breeze. I labored to breathe as she moved over me, around me, turning and swaying so beautifully. I was at a loss; no words, no thoughts, only a racing heart belied my trance. Softly, she took my hand and placed my arm around her waist. Slowly, she looked into me with her eyes; enormous orbs with only a sparkle of a blue circle around each perfectly black center. Somehow, in all that strange and exquisite beauty, she looked terribly sad.

“I miss you.” The whole room was gone in an instant, and I was alone in a shapeless expanse of darkness. Almost alone. She was there. I don't know if I could see her, or simply sense her; I could not tell if my eyes were even open at all. I could see her though, through whatever veil there may have been, real or imagined. She leaned into me, washing me in cool air, her unimaginably pale pink lips slightly parted as she closed the distance between us, and kissed me.

~~~~~~~

This is what eternity must feel like.

~~~~~~~


And then, as quickly as I had fallen into the reverie, as quickly as I had fallen completely in love with her, as quickly as my heart was pounding the blood behind my ears, she was gone. The whole nothingness was gone, replaced by the familiar, yet now strange club. I was alone, utterly and completely isolated within the crowd on the dirty dance floor, surrounded by people who had not even the slightest hint of what had just happened. I struggled to find her with my eyes, though my swimming head was slow to turn. I reached out blindly to find her, only to touch the all-too solid forms of rather perturbed looking dancers. I stood still, praying that she was there, that she had not vanished; I prayed that she would reach out and take my hand, guiding me away from this solid and now alien world to wherever it was that she waited. I called out in my mind, but it was no use; she was gone, leaving only my shuddering spine and the taste of something sweet to testify that she had ever been.