"Don't Blink"

Colin jammed his thumbs into the corners of his eyes until the darkness was pierced with a vague light and his head pounded. He released the pressure and opened his eyes. The dull light from the summer afternoon painted the world yellow. He looked across the long patio lined with tables and saw a familiar figure walking toward him. He recognized Kendra’s piercing emerald eyes from four tables away. Her brown hair waved hello to him with the warm August breeze.

Earlier that day, Kendra had called him and requested a meeting. She spoke like a hungry child asking for one more cookie before dinner. Colin realized that her distance made sense: they hadn’t talked for about two months. Her voice wasn’t the strong and powerful voice of Kendra he once knew. He was angry still about an unpaid bet debt for something he couldn’t quite recall, but involved a cabbage and some socks. Colin couldn’t remember most of the nights he spent with Mr. Jose Cuervo.

The distance was closing between Kendra and Colin, but he could feel himself growing colder towards her with the setting sun. It wasn’t just the 20 dollars for winning the bet that aggravated him. He was angry about being taken for granted, that he would show up at her beckoned call. His face twisted, his eyebrows raised. His soft blue eyes glossed slightly as he realized that he allowed himself to be taken for granted. He agreed to meet with her.

Kendra slipped herself in between the table and bench. The bottom of her teal skirt hung loosely over the bench like a picnic tablecloth. Colin couldn’t help but stare at the scene. He looked at her smooth pale legs she rarely revealed. They were strong legs, and Colin remembered the times they walked together; through the park, to the different neighborhoods, around the tourist attractions at dusk. Her eyes looked especially sharp in the cool grey skies of winter and pale mornings of spring.

He shook his head to jolt himself back to Kendra. She sat on the bench to his right, not across from him. To look at her, he raised his foot and leaned back slightly. He hooked the foot under his left knee. She looked at him, her rose red lips parted slightly to reveal her pearly white teeth, her perfect smile, her proportioned face. He missed her. He hated her.

“How’s it going?” Kendra said. Colin smiled and nodded his head. He looked at the cobble stone ground littered with cigarette butts and a stray Starbuck’s cup making more noise than the pair of them sitting at the table. Kendra’s left thumb stroked her right palm, and she stared intently at it.

“Thanks for coming,” she said. Her eyes were fixed on something other than him. The yellow fled from the world: the concrete was no longer a shimmering gold but the normal dull grey. Colin traced her glance to the dancing coffee cup and debated standing and throwing it away along with what was left of their friendship without looking back. He’s already here, he thought. Might as well see what she wants. He rubbed his scalp as if he could pull patience from his roots.

“So, what’s up?” He didn’t want to beat around the bush, but if she wanted to keep making small talk then Colin would allow it. She looked up into his eyes. What he once imagined as glass had shattered and exposed the core of her eyes, something glossy and no longer emotionless.

They had an unspoken contest of who would look away first. Colin would not blink, would not concede: his jaw tightened and eyes focused on a small freckle above her left eyebrow.

During the stare, Colin searched his mind for something to say. The last time they saw each other was at Colin’s graduation party. All of their friends were there, including Jack Daniels, Jose Cuervo, Captain Morgan, and Jimmy Beam. Their significant others were not able to make it. Colin welcomed the chance to be apart from their ties, to be college freshmen again, dancing in the frat houses and drunkenly dialing long forgotten friends from high school.

It was nice to have the old crew again; the townies and the academy. T&A they called themselves. That was the first night since their first year that all of them assembled. It was a celebration, a reunion, and, most importantly, a party. T&A came in pairs, two by two into Colin’s arc.

There was catching up to do. Reminiscing followed. The stories went from harmless stories of first impressions to embarrassing moments; like the time Colin let the party introduce a razor to his armpits or the time the party found Kendra’s collection of sex toys.

They played drinking games. After a couple of rounds of beer pong, Colin and Kendra were an undefeated duo. They defeated team after team until the music turned on and dancing began. The beer pong champions were tied together by an invisible rope. They twisted and turned, trying to untie the endless knots binding them together. Hours passed, and people separated them to congratulate Colin and said farewell. The bottles were emptying like the list of attendees.

Then someone suggested spin the bottle. The game started with a large circle on the floor. The first few spins were resolved by a peck expected by a mother to her child. The circle grew smaller as the connections grew longer. More people filtered out of the party, others passed out interlocked on couches or naked carpet.

Colin and Kendra were the last to survive the party. They joked about how some things never changed; they were generally the final two of the night. They left the sleeping drunks alone and relocated to Colin’s bedroom with half used bottle of rum.

Six shots and sixteen hours later Colin woke up next to Kendra. Her blouse and jean skirt laid crumpled in a mountain next his R.E.M. tee shirt and khaki shorts. He kept his eyes closed as she gathered her things and tiptoed out of the bedroom. After two months they were reunited in the same patio they met. Full circle, he thought.

Kendra finally looked away. Colin squeezed his eyes close together and welcomed the moisture. He still felt responsible for aiding Kendra with cheating on her boyfriend. But then again, she was a catalyst for breaking up with his ex-girlfriend. He assumed that to be the reason for their broken contact, but an excuse can only take one so far. Regardless, she refused to answer or return his phone calls. The point couldn’t be made that he made no attempt.

He kept his head in the comfort of his palm. Through his periphery he saw the lights over the patio flicker a few times before everything was bathed in a soft white light. Colin could almost taste the silence between them. He knew that even though he won the “contest,” she would not initiate the conversation or even the inevitable argument. They were two rhinos scraping their feet in the dirt, waiting for the other to charge.

He frantically thought for the name of Kendra’s betrayed boyfriend. After mentally listing 20 some odd names, he gave up on the futile attempt. It was on the tip of his tongue like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“How’s the boy?” he said. Did she clear her throat or choke back a tear? She shifted in the seat, balancing on the bench. Her legs were interlocked like a troubled stoic or stressed yoga instructor. She opened her mouth, but no words came out; just a quick exhalation of breath. Colin knew the way Kendra worked and that if he said anything or made the tiniest movement, he would never hear the thought forming on Kendra’s tongue.

He studied her features while waiting; the thin and maintained eyebrows, the eyeliner just resting on either eyelid, the rogue tint just barely visible along her cheek bone. Her eyes darted back and forth, never holding on an object long enough to focus.

“I honestly thought you wouldn’t come.” She traced her lower eyelid with the tip of her finger. The eyeliner smeared slightly. Even with the disruption of her makeup, the black smudge looked natural. Her eyes became a painting framed by a soft black boundary: it created a focus for the viewer. Show no weakness, Colin heard her voice echo through past memories, memories of walking without destination or worries. “How’s the girl?”

“What girl?” he said. He reached into his pocket for his box of cigarettes and a green lighter.

“You said you quit.”

“Four months ago,” he said. The flame danced in the wind. “Quitters never win.” The sun was setting; the horizon obscured the sun. “You gonna give me some shit about smoking now?”

“Lack of commitment.” Her eyes hardened glass again.

“Said the pot to the kettle.” The sun wasn’t the only red Colin saw. “What do you want from me?”

“I wanted to see you again.”

“Why now? You should be getting more than enough attention form the boy.”

“I broke up with Doug.” Colin was struck with a force and snapped upright. His face twisted.

“Why?”

“Why did you break up with Amy?”

“No, why am I here?” The horizon was cleared of the obtrusive sun. White pins adorned the sky. “You want sympathy? Empathy? Conformation?”

“No, I-,” her voice cut off. Her eyes flickered like the wings of an injured bird, scared and alone. She inhaled deeply and Colin could almost hear her count to ten in her mind. “I thought we could –”

“What, Pick up where we left?” Colin was a dragon, smoke pouring from his nostrils. “Too little too late. Two months is a long time.”

“What happened to you?” Kendra shook her head and tugged at her skirt. She released one leg from the tight knot of her position. Her foot met the ground, it fell as fast as lead.

“People change.” Colin stood. “You should be familiar with that.” He let the smoke escape his lips. The statement formed in the cloud, and they both let it linger until the wind swept it away.