Tanya sat, silent. Thinking. Wondering. She felt like she was facing a black monolith, frantically searching for a pinhole of light – some way to get through to him. But the immensity of the blackness overwhelmed her. She was under its shadow. Under his shadow. She searched her mind for that one-word prayer of strength and comfort. Images were all that came to her. Flames. Heart. Thorns. Cross. Jesus. Jesus! O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, help me.
Flip sat, silent as well. Leaning in toward her. Glancing over her. Wondering just how long it’d all take for this one to fall under his spell. She was mesmerized already, he could tell. Conquest for him was sweet. And he would be a grand prize winner with this one. He knew these pious types – they held out for awhile, then crashed quick and hard.
A girl like her would be more passionate than the bar whores when in the heat of the moment. He knew. All that pent-up emotion from “saving herself for someone special” would be unleashed as soon as he touched her just the right way. And he had much practice in finding just the right way. He had a loaded key-chain of right-way clinkers clipped to his belt, waiting to be jabbed into the next woman’s heart, whether she be coy or brazen. Yes, it would be a savory victory for him. But he’d have to bail out quick before she started weeping about how she regretted ever setting eyes on him and crying over guilt guilt guilt. He wouldn’t comfort her then. He wouldn’t apologize for himself. No sir. He’d simply abandon her in her misery while celebrating his prowess with good ol’ Jack Daniels at the corner bar.
Two hours later. The party was well underway. Tanya was getting that pounding, stifling feeling again. She was still holding on to her daiquiri cooler, warmer than room temperature by now after being between her palms all night.
She had excused herself from Flip’s stare down and found Sylvie again and met up with some vaguely familiar friends and tried to converse and look like she didn’t have a care in the world. But those eyes. His eyes. Looking right through her. They flashed through her memory as often as the heat was flashing through her body during this nerve-wracking party where she was doing all she could to get her mind off that conversation. She felt she should just leave already. She didn’t know what was keeping her? She knew should just go home, say her prayers for Papa Benny before bed as she always did, and shut her eyes and forget it all. Sleep till tomorrow. Start a new day.
But she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. She hadn’t slept much all week. She’d been going over that night – that song in her head, over and over. And now she’d be going over this night – this conversation, word by word, glance by glance. It was going to haunt her, she knew, whether she stayed or left. Once she was home, she’d think of all the things she should have said and what she wished she had said and how she wanted to get through to him…and how she wished he would look at her sincerely…. Whoa. She didn’t know where that just came from. She escaped for fresh air. Again.
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