III

Magali

            Hands in his pockets, he immediately recognized her among the plethora of anonymous people. She was wearing a fitted white blouse, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, of which the tassels were flirting slightly with the faded blue jeans that traced her refined shapes. She wore a small handbag across her chest made of a relativity hard canvas in quite original green and brown colors. Her feet, almost completely exposed, perfectly embraced a pair of strappy shoes with low heels, where the feet’s curvature expressed even more the image of this sensual femininity. Like indescribable pheromones, secretly captured by a primitive organ named vomeronasal, situated in the inmost depths of his nose. The effect for Iscleef, quickly showed itself.

            It was with his wide smile he greeted Magali. In spite of the erotic and natural flavors of discussions they maintained, it was in a completely academic way that was made the first contact. He came to think he was sorry to be today, claiming the comfort of their connections via video link. But at the same time he rejected the idea that she would throw herself into his arms among all these strangers such as the ridiculous lover’s stereotypes, toward each other on a deserted beach, while he did not know any better.

            They slipped as much as possible about this great place teeming astounded and captivated by a show of street humming proposed that a small group of young men with muscular bodies gesticulating vigorously on the frantic rhythms of hip hop rocked by an old player DC with astonishing woofer. In this energic and general uproar when hovering a festive atmosphere, Iscleef offered her somehow to take the small cobbled street located a few steps. They arrived on another much smaller place, surrounded by cafés and student bars. They branched off to the right to engage in the redirection of Jazz Velvet Underground, small pub which he was accustomed. It was crowded and the bar would soon be filled completely as the night wore on, but strangely the place he loved and wanted, that of high stools near the bay window was still free, to her surprise. On entering he bowed Anselm, head of the institution, the all balding and graying beard, a nod. It was with a nod equally complicit, Anselm invited them to settle, right arm folded on itself, palm horizontally towards the coveted spot.

            At night the many pink shades gradually gave way to smooth the influence of the blue night. From outside, the atmosphere of good mood that emanated this bar full of people attracted even more people eager to be there in front of Iscleef and Magali, sitting behind the glass, not strangers to this phenomenon. From inside, the warm dim light orange lamps and mingled with the smell of cigarettes permeated the masterpiece “White Rabbit”; jazz of George Benson where acoustic guitars on a Iberian rhythm wound volute around trumpet, clarinet and other wind instruments at the mercy of electric guitars. And this kind under the rule of jazz greats such as Sonny Rollins, Thelenious Monk, Ella Fitzgerald, Chet baker, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Stan Getz, john Coltrane and Louis Armstrong, immortalized in frames hanging on the walls of tapestry color wood. Iscleef faced the bar and over the pretty face of his guest, he had a beautiful view from plethora of female posterior all forms adjoining counter. Groups of tipsy girls and God only knew if they were single, sipping beers in the weekend deserved when boys came to try their luck through the exchange of smiles, laughter and discussions we imagined interesting. Iscleef trying to put at ease by keeping its natural attitudes of ordinary courtesy. He fought his way and went to order from Anselm, behind his counter, some shooter; glasses of rum flavorings unpublished and served in cups of peanuts and corn kernels roasted and salted.

…/… He seemed to do what he had to overcome a situation where the first meeting we advance stealthily taking precautions not to put foot in it. But clearly something was wrong. Discomfort, he could explain, was being established between them. Hence perhaps somewhat porous appearance that took their conversation. This does not go as he wished and blocking does not come from him, thought he. And worse, he did not know how to engage the clutch on the subject would be decanted this strange situation. For its part, Magali did not look in the eyes and the whites feared a discussion that was slow to want natural. And when the soul and jazz music succeeded finally engulfed by gradually increasing the gap left between them, Amy Winehouse and his torrid “Take the box” track take advantage. Iscleef looked furtively around to know if others had noticed the odd relationship he had with this girl. Furthemore, he hated that feeling uncomfortable when he did not control the situation. He did not understand the reaction of Magali tonight that contrasted sharply with his way to be when they were together on the chat room. They had all the ingredients, he thought, for a good time and Iscleef had a little alcohol to give a touch of levity to the evening. He never imagined Magali back home that night, excepting a polite refusal of his hand. The habits and customs are sometimes ridiculous, he thought, especially when the whole day tending to the contrary. But this was expected. However, it was less than it was this feeling of embarrassment that always stuck as an indelible stain. Wanting to break that special atmosphere, it took her right hand she hastened to withdraw immediately. This reaction eventually finished a night he thought as well… great? No! Given his long head movement from left to right, his demoralized smile.

            The misunderstanding was complete. What to do in this situation? All predestined to tomorrow hugs and yet it did not take the path. It had been open as usual. A self-questioning was taking place in secret. It was a long silence. Long seconds during which a strange paradox Magali was sitting alone in front of him. Iscleef had not been dreaming! It was she who had proposed to meet, to leap, to see if it worked as claimed. It was indeed those words and not some inventions coming straight from his mind wandering. What it rhymed it? Was it a bad joke when he was the guinea pig of the day? He thought in a circumstance of phlegm. Why had she been so unbridled not so long and so closed now. He disliked the idea of being the result of the experience of a little bitch in search of distraction. The kind who keep a diary became jubilant as dictated by current fashion. And if that were true, then it was never good to discover another that evening, might as well have been the case.

            Anger gradually took precedence over the distress. Anger measured because it nevertheless did not encroach further on the right. Advised that a gentleman, he was offered to escort up Magali the subway station nearest and along the way that they did not exchange a few words. A physical distance that separated a good meter, it installed another that had value in comparison lunar abyss. Arrived on the spot, they said goodbye in the same way they say hello and had promised to meet again in a hypothetical absolute as leaving behind a sense of unfinished business and evening borked.

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© Copyright – Enrick CINDY – 2005 April