Excerpt from chapter four

Amongst the clusters of drinkers, my attention was, immediately, snagged by a guy near the far wall. He was extremely good looking, with longish, blonde hair and finely cut features and he wore a rose coloured beanie, an unusual colour for a guy. I often judged people’s character on their hats or even lack thereof. His said confident and I wondered how that beanie would look on me.

Suppressing my unease, I entered the garden, got a bloody Mary at the outside bar, and with a forced saunter, headed over near to where he stood talking to another guy. I sipped at my drink straining to feel comfortable standing there on my own.

The two of them were having a conversation about the pros and cons of the available, alternative energy sources. Sipping my drink very slowly, I thought about ways to join their conversation. Soon my glass was empty. I sucked and crunched on the ice, ate the celery and the olives, then looked around at the other people. I kind of wished I smoked. I didn’t want to stand there gawking at everyone, especially not at him or resort to looking at my phone. Although, my old, second-hand phone on display next to all their brand-new iPhones would be funny. I knew Tara would approve that I hadn’t succumbed to the lure of upgrading. This crowd, obviously, did the intruder thing.

Still, I didn’t particularly want to leave. Should I get another drink and come back over to this guy, or just go back to the motel? I looked down into my empty glass and stared at the bottom, far too long, glued into idiocy by my indecision and self-consciousness.

“Looks undeniably empty.” I lifted my head. The guy wearing the rose beanie was staring at me. “Your drink,” he added pointing to my glass. “Here take this.” And he poured some beer out of a pitcher into another glass and handed it to me. “Cheers!”

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure about him. I didn’t like the way he handed me the beer, almost pushing it into my hand and then immediately clinking firmly against my glass with his. I had no chance to say no to that drink or the toast, he wasn’t allowing for any refusals. The garden wall behind me was practically touching my back, and with him standing right in front of me, that bit taller, I felt closed in.

Soon I realised he wasn’t actually taller than I was. His height was an illusion. An overbearing manner made manifest in a trick of stature. His expression was arrogant, his eyes in a slight scowl, but arrogance tinged with a trembling confidence. Underneath it all I could see his insecurity. He pre-empted any refusals, dominating and directing a situation before someone had time to think. An imperceptible dance between us ensued, a silent accompaniment to our chit chat.

“I’m in my last year at college and come to this bar all the time,” he said inching forwards “but I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Uh, just passing through.” I edged backwards. “Felt like a drink.”

His head leaned subtly towards me. “Where are you from? Is that an Irish accent?”

I tilted my head slightly away from him. “Yep.” With minute movements, I moved my arm inwards until my beer glass was pressed against my chest. “Just here on a short visit.”

He stretched his arm out and put his hand against the wall near to my head. “How long is short?”

Feeling trapped, I babbled out some unnecessary information. “Well, I’m here for a short stay in town and then in the country longer to see, I don’t know, what happens. Just, you know, go with the flow.”

“OK, I’m intrigued,” he leaned closer.

Moving back flat against the wall I looked at him expecting to see victory, but worry had moved into his eyes. He was certainly not used to rejection. The undercurrents were shifting. Enjoying my surge of power, I spotted a cut on his neck and stuck out my finger towards it, lightly grazing his skin.

“Cut yourself shaving?” My tone playfully mean, as if he were a silly little boy playing with big boys’ tools. His hand lifted towards his neck, his fingers hovering over the scratch. He readjusted his scarf.

“No,” The scowl was back.

Abruptly the dynamics shifted, again tipping in his favour. Suddenly, I felt mean. What had happened to him? Maybe he was hiding more injuries. “Sorry” I said, feeling guilty for asking.

“For what?” I could see in his eyes that he was beginning to wonder about me.

I was desperate to change the direction we were heading in. “I just mean, I shouldn’t have asked because it’s personal.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s just a scratch.?”

“I just thought maybe there was more to the story…”

“What?” He shook his head.

I fumbled forwards. “I mean. It’s none of my business. I mean maybe you’re covering it.”

“Covering, what?”

His eyes now confirmed that I definitely was odd.” He laughed. It was a snotty laugh.

We stared at each other. The moment was racing and expanding simultaneously.

“Never mind,” I blurted out. And I had a sense of satisfaction for ending the conversation.

“You’re big on your mysteries?” he smiled, “Not enough thrills in your life?”

“What?” I snapped.

“I’m just joking chill,” he said.

But it had struck a nerve. My imagination was always bringing me into fantasy. Sometimes I dwelled there for a while finding it more pleasurable than my real life. And wasn’t I here after all chasing a mystery.

“If you must know, a cat scratched me,” he said with a gentler tone.

I laughed, “Oh! Ow.” The tension lifted, but mortification, a familiar feeling, still hovered around me. Often I swung from high to low. Too familiar with being in a position of inferiority, I was easily dragged down.

Behind him a girl approached. Busty, curvy and glossy.

“Hi!”

He turned his head and his body followed, his energy now fully retracted from me and beamed at her. The girl flicked a quick look my way as if to say, who the hell is that loser?

I was reminded of my first teen encounters with guys. Once again I was an unwanted clod, foolish to remain but not sure how to go. I just stood there, the feeling like lead in my stomach. Sipping the beer, I allowed myself to go fully into the feeling instead of letting it weigh me down. Slowly a warm kind of peaceful feeling replaced it. Fuck it, I thought, who am I trying to impress? So what if they don’t like me, laugh at me, ignore me. I don’t live here anyway.”

“Hey.” I tapped his shoulder.

He looked back at me surprised. The girl’s surprise quickly shifted to startled and then a subtle three-way dance began. She moved in nearer to him, he turned more towards me and I held my ground, the hub it all revolved around. But I wasn’t nervous. Impartial to the outcome, I had nothing to lose.

“What?” He said to me.

“You want a beer?”

“Yeah thanks.”

“You want one too?” I asked the girl.

Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Up at the bar, I looked back a few times to see her moving in on him, but when I returned, he focused on me and she directed her attention to another guy. I was back to liking him. Though still strangely impartial.

“So, what did you mean by passing through?” he asked.

“I’ve come to visit someone, and well, find someone.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” I said, “it’s complicated.”

“O.K. whatever” Knocking back his beer, he smiled and got us more. The alcohol seemed to be softening his manner and my impartiality about whether he liked me or not wavered with his growing appeal. I wanted to keep his attention.

“Well, actually I’m looking for her.” I took the photo out of my bag, handed it to him and continued, “I have plans to…”

“What?” he said, looking up from the photo. “How did you know?”

My stomach tingled. “Know what?”

“I saw you walk into the bar, you came right this way.”

Not sure how to answer that, I just shook my head.

Eyes wide, he grinned. “This is just fuckin weird, because I’ve met this woman.”

*Keeper of the Flame-Literay-Adult-circa 80.000-Lisa Verdekal-

KotF revolves around the relationship between humans and the natural world, the biggest issue of our time-

Beth’s grandmother called them The Intruders. A band of invaders who, for millennia, continue to destroy the environment. Urged by a dream, Beth resumes an ancestral tradition of communing with nature, and realizes she must confront her destiny.-

This is a story about the environment and humanity’s relationship with it. It is also a love story and an adventure. It is is set in both a contemporary Ireland and the US, although the emphasis is not on Irish or Americans, but humanity at large. The natural environment of both countries is a strong feature in regards to setting.-

Any age really, but primarily 30 to 60- Born and bred in LA, I now live on the west coast of Ireland-https://www.instagram.com/- Masters in Advanced language Skills German-I’ve been published in several on line magazines- I enjoy how a story unfolds, imagination aided by life experience, social, spiritual and political views and the burgeoning autonomy of the characters.*