romance

Alazia

The chatter echoed across the ballroom as people conversed over their drinks of choice, tunes from a
forgotten era of the early millennium overpoweringly being played through speakers too small for such a hall. Rounded tables loaded with glasses, flower arrangements and an extravagant center piece that housed those who decided to sit, drink and chat.

The dance floor crowded with women and a few selected men showing off moves that at one time was the pinnacle of dance but now is considered embarrassing by the younger generation. A dimly lit room full of energy, laughs dancing and smiles. A beautiful night for those who can appreciate the beauty of one’s company of others.

Standing at the bar counter, he sees himself in the mirror, taking his hand and wiping off the crumbs off his sportscoat and checking his blue jeans for any remanence of dinner. The bartender handed him his drinks and he begin walking into the ballroom with a whiskey & seven and a glass of wine in the other hand. He scans around the room, in search of her and as if time had frozen for a moment, he spots her from a distance and stares in awe before being interrupted by a soft-spoken voice.

“Do you think she knows he’s married?” She asked as she approaches him from behind sipping her glass of wine.
“I sure hope so” he chuckled as he watches her grip the man’s arm, laughing at his jokes from a
distance.
“Interested?” the woman asks while she continues to take small sips from her glass.
“I should be” he replied quickly as she continued to inquire. “jealous type?” “Ha, not at all” he replied, still watching her from a distance. “Then why can’t you turn and look at me?” the woman asked as she takes her final sip of white wine.
“Because, she’s absolutely beautiful.” He laughs to himself before turning towards the softspoken voice that has so many questions.

Putting on a fake smile and jokingly introducing himself “Hank, the master of answers, the husband of said beauty” he extended his hand awkwardly before remembering the drinks in his hand. She smiled cutely as she introduced herself “Alice, the queen of questions, wife of the man laughing” she smiled wittingly.
“Oh!” hank acknowledged with raised eyebrows and a scheming expression. “Well Alice, my lady” he extends his arm “shall we go and see what our better halves find so funny” he expressed in an exaggerated tone.
“Two seconds” she replied, pointing at her empty glass before quickly turning around and hurried out the door towards the bar. Hank standing there, arm awkwardly still hooked, holding two drinks and looking onto his wife in the distance, sharing laughter, an expression he had missed seeing in her for so long.

Alice scurried back towards hank with a fresh drink in her hand and chuckled at the sight of hank waiting for her. He looks back Alice and smiles in a goofy expression as she hooks her arm into his and they begin skipping humorously towards their partners.

As Hank and Alice approached their partners, Hank’s wife immediately let go of her friends arm and reaches towards hank “Hey baby! This is my co-worker; he helps me out a lot around the office!” She exclaimed excitingly. “Nice to meet you, Hank!” he reaches out his hand towards hank before continuing to say “I heard so much about you! All great things so don’t worry!” the man laughed to himself while hank handed his wife her glass of wine.
“Oh I am so, so flattered” Hank said jokingly as he extended his hand back towards the man.
“Your name? “Hank adds moments before their hands touch.
“Russell” he replied
“Oh yes! Russell!” Hank paused jokingly, raising his eyebrow humorously before sarcastically adding “I have never heard of you at all” Hank chuckled to himself while reassuring Russell that he was only kidding.
“I see you already met my wife” Russell pointing towards Alice.
“Alice, have you met Becca?” Russell asked before taking a sip of his beer.
“My pleasure Becca” Alice acknowledging Becca before asking “We couldn’t help but notice all the laughter from across the hall.”

Russell begins to tell the story, but all sounds fell silent as Hank looked at his wife, staring intently in awe at her co-worker, lingering on every word that he said, watching her in slow motion slapping his shoulder flirtishly while laughing, again, as if time stood still and pieces of his heart begin breaking off.

“Hank, what do you do for a living.” Hank snaps out of his hypnotic trance and sarcastically answers with great humor “I’m a servant of words, a story teller of such a profession as old as the bible, one would call me ..” Hank says in a lavishing tone and taking a swig of his drink before being interrupted by Becca
“A writer!, hanks a writer” taking back by her response, he tones down his theatrics, coughs and quietly replies “a writer”

Becca quickly shifts her body away from Hank and continues her conversation with Russell. Hank stood there, alienated and confused but stunned by her beauty. Reliving old thoughts of how he uses to
make her smile, make her laugh and remembering the feeling of her touch on his shoulder. Hank stood in
silence, living in the past until Alice stood in his view and inquired
“A writer, what have you written?” Hank taking a sip of his whiskey before humorously replying “words, mostly, sometimes I use numbers if the story really calls for it” he smiles as she rolled her eyes from his answer.

The two strike up a conversation about literature, art and dreams from a youthful time. Until Alice noticed that Hank couldn’t help but be distracted by Becca and she finally confronted him
“Hank” she said softly as she places one hand on his “It bothers you how happy he makes her doesn’t it?” Hank pauses for a moment before jokingly replying “Who? The old lady over in the corner? “Pointing to an elderly woman doing the twist by herself.

“Hank” she continues softly “You must have a real answer somewhere” she looks at him intently as she
continues to add “The work you shown me tonight, your words, are so hauntingly beautiful, romantic, aspiring even. Can’t you express that vocally?” Hank shifts his eyes from his third drink up towards Alice “I’m scared to” he said hesitantly. His eyes begin to tear up as he continued “What if, what if it’s too late, I made one too many jokes or one too many accusations” Hank takes a sip of his drink, predicting her answer.

She stared deeply in his eyes, feeling the pain that he expressed “It’s okay, its okay to be vulnerable, that’s who you are, a hopeless romantic” she smiled kindly still holding onto his hand. Alice had a mischievous look on her face before asking “What if..” She pauses before continuing, gliding her finger tips against her lips. “what if I be the bad guy here?”
confused, Hank asks her “What do you mean? you wanna rob a bank or something?” Alice grins as she adds “Want to know if she still cares about you?” she quickly glances at her husband and Becca still chatting, trying to gain their attention.

Hank raises his eyebrow as she leans in close only for hank to turn away before their lips touched. she gave out a quiet sigh and softly whispers in his ear “I was hoping you’d do that” she gives him a kiss on his cheek and softly adds “Be the hopeless romantic, not the comedian”

“What the fuck!“ Becca expressed furiously as she grabbed onto Alice arm and yanking her away from hank. “Alice! I know about the divorce but that gives you no right!” Becca snapped in pure anger. Alice calmingly responds “calm down Becca, it was the wine, not me” adding apologetically
“I seen you with my husband and I thought you two were the same” Alice shrugged while rolling her eyes. Becca quipped back. Becca gave a stern gaze, a swirling expression of anger and sadness as she announced that they were leaving. Becca grabs hanks hand and begins to storm out of the ballroom. Hank looks back at Alice, standing there next to her husband with his head hanging low and avoiding any eye contact. she smiles, bites her lower lip and gives him a wink as Hank whispers “Thank you”.


As Becca holds Hank’s hand, crossing the ballroom, an old familiar song plays in the background that makes him stop in his tracks. “Hank! We’re leaving, come on” Becca tugs on his hand but he pulls her in close onto the dance floor, wrapping his arm around the small of her back, taking his hand through her hair and leaning his forehead onto hers. He slowly waltzes around in circles, holding her close as she confusingly whispers, “What are you doing?” he softly hushed her question and holds her tightly for a few minutes before pulling away from her face, looking into her beautiful brown eyes, he whispers, “I love you,” and seals it with a kiss.
He takes her head and rest it on his shoulder as they dance in circles to the familiar tune of Charles Bradley. Her heart and his, beating in union and as if time had frozen once more that night, the moment was seized and the love rekindled.

The End
Lucas Durelle

Him: A short story By Lucas Durelle

The wind blows in the late autumn air as stoops are filled with decorations of pumpkins, scarecrows and
items of harvesting. As the scattered leaves sweep over the concrete of the ground by the shady oak trees
that are perfectly spaced-out on the busy street, a pathway guides along a wide variety of clothing shop,
grocery store, artisan crafts and one locally known coffee shop that had the best americano one’s tongue will ever taste.

As the door opens to the Coffee shop and the autumn foliage blows into the dimly lit store front, the sound of soft blues music is played over the aroma of fresh ground coffee beans. Dark stained chairs occupy the hardwood floor, the walls filled with coffee memorabilia and fine aged books that sat in mahogany bookcases. The coffee shop was vibrant but with hints of aged wood, the soft chatter of its patrons was all he could hear as he turned his coat up on his neck as he felt the cool breeze of the door being opened behind him.

He sat in front of a blank page, on a laptop that was older than he was and could barely load his writing
software. A steaming fresh americano sat to the right of him, waiting patiently to be devoured with enjoyment. His earphones plugged in, listening to a playlist that labelled “inspiration” he stared into the void that was an empty notepad, vibing to the soft swing of the guitar being played in his ears.
He looked around the coffee shop for inspiration, checking out couples talking, friends arguing and laughing and loners being lonesome. He made eye contact with a woman who sat in the corner, her eyes vibrant blue as she looks up over her coffee mug. He pauses, smiles and raises his eyebrows in curiosity, anticipating her response to the acknowledging eye contact, the moment felt like an eternity. She caught his glimpse, rolled her vibrant blue eyes in an exhausting expression and turned her body away from his. Smiling to himself, he shook his head in defeat and return to the empty white void of his screen that shined brighter than the sun in the month of march along the beaches of Costa Rica.

Flipping his phone over, he double touches the screen to check his notifications. Nothing new but one unopened message sent weeks prior. Twitching his mouth back and forth in contemplation, he unlocks his
phone and hovers his thumb over the unopened message. Placing his phone back down and taking one more glance around the crowded café, taking his cup in his hand, sipping slowly on that delicious americano. He watches a couple on the other side of the room, holding hands, smiling brightly and sharing in a laugh, the glitter in their eyes lit up the small space between them as they flirt back and forth. He watched, reminiscing on the love he once felt, the warmth that would blanket him from the cold of society, the soft touch of her fingertips dancing on the back of his hand when they once sat across from each other and the floating feeling of getting lost in her eyes as she stared back at him intently. His gaze was broken when a patron bumped into his shoulder, spilling his coffee onto his lap, looking down at the mess of his pants, he quickly looked back at the flirting couple only to discover they had left in that mere moment. Turning back to the void of his screen, he finishes what’s left of his coffee that didn’t spill onto his lap and places the cup back onto the table in front of him. Looking at his phone, he turns his gaze back to the screen of his laptop and feels defeated. He closes his computer, packs up his gear and walks away from the table.


On his way out the door, making his way through the crowd of people sipping their coffee, playing board
games and sharing life, he glances down and notices the wet stain on his pants from the spilled coffee, he
quickly exits the building, embarrassed.
Outside, standing on the busy corner of the coffee shop, the sunset starts to settle into the distance,
contemplating on where to go next. He chooses to go two blocks around the corner of the busy street to a well-known whiskey bar, a speak easy where creative people like himself like to gather. Entering the building, he approaches the bar and orders a double bourbon with a splash of cola on ice. Looking around for a corner to sit, he makes his way to an empty table that sits close to the furthest wall of the bar. Waiting for the ice to water down his drink, he dug out his laptop and opened it to the white void that follows him like a shadow in the midst of the day. Unsheathing his phone from his pocket he places it next to him and scans the room for inspiration. He watched as artists sketched, poets rhymed, and conversationalists talked about the potency of different whiskey brands and their makers. The sounds of modern folk music played softly in the air as words floated between the groups.

Finally taking a sip of his chilled bourbon and cola, a warm tingle ran down his spine, a sense of relief from the first sip of his drink, he turned towards his laptop, his drink placed next to him, he rest his arms on the edge of the table and danced the tips of his fingers along the keys of his laptop without firmly pressing, almost in a playful way, a mockery of how he typed previously. Taking the half-filled glass in his hand, he takes a couple more sips and glances over the brim. His eyes shift towards his phone, he takes his other hand and unlocks the screen, hovering his thumb over the unread message, taking his final gulp of his drink, he slowly lowers his thumb and opens the message and hesitantly reads in silence.

Hey,
This is never easy and to be truthful, I never thought it would be. The life we share, the life we were going to make was one pure and beautiful, the thought of you and I together would outshine all darkness that would ever try to cloud the love we share. The way your hands held mine, how your eyes stole my breath and the warmth of your heart was a fire that could not be contained…at least it use to be that way, I really thought our love could shine through the darkest days, but those days grew darker and the light in your eyes faded with every drink you would take until all glimmer of hope was gone, the love in your eyes drowned by a river of bourbon and you sank to the bottom and I reached! I reached so deep, but you would never grab my hand! Why didn’t you grab my hand? Was I not worth swimming for? You use to sing and laugh, smile and live but what disappointed me the most was that you stopped writing. What happened to my writer? Where is he? If you find him, let me know. Let me know if he finds his smile, if his eyes can light up a room and if he can write something so profound that it makes him cry.
I need you to find him.
Love,
Her.

Tears escaped his eyes as he read the message over and over, hearing her voice reading softly in his mind,
catching his breath and wiping the tears away on his sleeve. he glanced over at the whiskey glass, now empty shaking his head in disbelief as he pushes the glass away from him. He places his phone carefully next to his laptop and shifts his eyes over at the blank screen ahead of him. He gently placed his fingertips onto the keys and took a deep breath, he takes another glance at the message and as the memories flood his mind, his heart beats rapidly and the fire lights up in his eyes. Finally.


“Him”
A short story
Written By
Lucas Durelle