But that's of no concern. We'll learn as we go," the girl said.
"Spontaneity! I love it!" Michael said, snapping his fingers at the idea.
"And we will need more than one big bedroom, of course. We will eventually need... five, I believe. Yes, five additional rooms. And not for the guests, I tell you. But for the... well, others."
"Five?" Michael asked with genuine shock.
"Yes, five," the girl said mischievously. "What's wrong with five?"
"It's a relatively big number these days, and...," Michael said, lifting his hands outwards and searching for an escape. "And, well... it's an odd number. Oh, right, forgive me. Odd is interesting. So, well, odd is allowed."
"Yes, always allowed," the girl remarked resolutely.
The girl put her finger to her lips, rolling her eyes to search for words to match the scene in her head. "Because we're like John and Yoko," she said, lifting up on her toes again as if it would somehow take her above the awkwardness of her vision.
"John and Yoko?" Michael asked with renewed confusion.
"You know, days in bed," the girl said, trying to step back from coquettish words, then giving up. "Naked and in bed! You know, like John Lennon and Yoko Ono."
"Of course, days in bed, naked. Just like John and Yoko," Michael said, eyes wide, happily accepting the basis for the perplexing analogy.
"And I will always laugh with you," the girl said quietly, connecting with Michael again, searching him for some sign of reality or dream. The girl took an additional step toward the man under the coffee shop's awning who had entered inside her somewhere unusual and new. And as she drew a deep breath of the night's air in preparation for something different and needed, the girl once more looked to the wall and to the tote that rested between them. Halting her advance, the girl tried to fend off the reservations that now knocked in the back of her mind. She fell into a kind of reverie by closing her eyes and lightly biting her lower lip, as if doing so might seal her hope and make all things anew.
The girl began to sway gently back and forth as if the night's small breeze had taken control of her. She wrapped her arms about herself and squeezed lightly, like she were bracing for the words that were gathering, "And, I'll rarely cry with you. No, with you, I think I'd rarely cry."
The girl wilted a little with her words and shuddered some as if she were pushed roughly into a cold room.
Michael, now troubled with watching the girl's rapid transformation, took a step toward the girl standing helpless in the mist of the alley and asked, "Are you okay?"
The girl opened her eyes and a small tear escaped, running the length of her cheek, holding fast at the edge of her chin before another followed in its trail and forced an inevitable fall.
"I wouldn't cry with you," she repeated, slowly this time, while leveling her eyes at Michael, tears still gathering in her own.
"Of course not... What?" Michael tried, probing for a reason behind the girl's sudden turn.
"And with you, I wouldn't hurt," she said. "Not with you."
Michael leaned toward the girl, hands outstretched, as if he were preparing to catch her when the gravity of whatever thoughts she was having sent her to her knees.
"And, I will not fear with you," she said, shaking her head in slow determination. "Not with you," she added, tears now heavy and constant.
Michael, once held back by respect for the unknown, started searching for a way over the wall and to the girl who stood motionless and wordlessly asking for his embrace.
As Michael mounted the wall, a growing and demanding clang arose in the distance. The sound of the approaching trolley warned of its final run of the night and in doing so lifted the girl in a snap from the dark place she had just gone and almost needed help escaping.
The girl, now entirely awake and firmly in the present, pressed the remaining tears from her eyes, forcing equanimity. She reached for the bag on the wall that Michael was now straddling, stuck in his utter confusion. Then, without seeing him, without an offering of any kind, the girl lifted her bag, turned toward the waiting trolley and took steps back into the night.
"Wait!" Michael said forcefully, near painfully, cutting the downtown's regular silence.
The girl, bag firmly in hand, did nothing to acknowledge the insistence and undeniable command in Michael's word. She took a few more unwavering steps in the direction of the empty and lonesome trolley before stopping, eyes forward and softly saying, more to herself than to Michael, "It's just like that sometimes."
The girl hefted her bag once more, securing her decision along with her grip. Then, like an afterthought, the girl gave over to a small turn of her waist, only to see Michael, hand outstretched and mouth agape with the start of words that were too many and too late.
The girl joined eyes with Michael a final time, too briefly to give him a hold, before turning back toward the last trolley of the night and saying, as she walked out of his life forever, "Only sometimes."
Author's Note:
Thank you for taking the time to read my short story offering SOMETIMES. If you enjoyed this particular story, I hope you'll enjoy my collection of shorts set for publication in late 2015. Please feel free to visit my website at www.MTWood.me or email me personally at:
[email protected] I'd really like to hear from you.
Warm Regards,
TREY
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