............................................................................ ......::::..|...###.....###...###...###.....#######.....###......;;;;....... .....::::..-*-...###.....###..%##....###.....##..%##.....###....;;;;;;...... ....::::....|...##.##....#####%##...##.##....##...%##...##.##..;;;;;;;;..... .....::::......#######...##.#####..#######...##...%##..#######..;;;;;;...... ......::::....###...###..##...###.###...###..##..%##..###...###..;;####..... .............###.....######...%#####.....###############.....###..###.##.... *****###****###***********************************************###**#**##**** ## ## ### I S S U E # 0 8 5 0 6 - 2 3 - 0 0 ### #### ### # ### ####### #### ### "Touch" ### ####### by Phairgirl #### She was always sitting there. Fuck reality, she wasn't your average anything. But she was always sitting there, every day when Kevin went to get his morning coffee and read the same daily bullshit they published in the local paper. She was a regular, and there were plenty of them. Kevin never frequented any places until he saw her the first time. His friend Alex had invited him out for a brunch one morning and dragged him into the lowly diner in a part of town that he had never even realized was there. He spent a lot of time watching everyone. "Yo, Alex," Kevin half-whispered. "Yeah?" "What's with that guy over there, he keeps yelling at the table next to him, but nobody's there." "That's Raymond. Everyone knows Ray. He's always talking about society is bad this and the world hates him that, blah blah blah. Nobody pays attention to him, that's just the way he is," Alex summed. Kevin was slightly baffled. "Don't they kick people out for stuff like that?" "Nah, not Raymond. He's here every day for coffee. Sometimes he's laid back, some days are worse than others. Everyone stops and talks to him. He's a regular." "Ahhh, regular? Why would a dump like this have regulars?" Kevin couldn't help asking. "You know. Some small place isn't about to lose business by kicking out the dedicated customers. And look at everyone else here. Do they look disturbed? Fuck no. Why do you think they come here all the time? Raymond is one in a million," Alek quipped, and settled back with his omelet. Kevin glanced around himself some more. He saw an older lady knitting something, with a cup of coffee, a glass of soda, and a pitcher of water in front of her. She would stitch a few, rearrange the glasses, and stitch a few more. There was a haggard old man who looked like he slept in a dumpster, carefully cradling his coffee mug, staring at it as though it were a kaleidoscope, occasionally falling forward in half-sleep and jerking himself awake. And then there was this tall, lanky girl, dressed in black with obscenely long brown hair, meditating over a notebook, occasionally scribbling and pounding her fists on the table. And after that day, Kevin knew this was the place he had to be. He was completely fascinated by the characters within the small cafe, and all of his thoughts seemed to be pervaded by his preoccupation with their quirks and oddities. He wanted to KNOW them. He couldn't watch them continually spend their time alone with their essence lost in a middle-of-nowhere nothingsville rattrap. So he went back. And soon, Kevin was almost a regular. Nobody thought of him as one, as he always quietly sat, sipping and reading. He could almost predict the other regulars' comings and goings, their idiosyncracies, their good days and bad. And although Raymond was always spectacular for the occasional conversation, and the knitting lady always had bright, cheerful, 1950s-esque things to say, he always dodged the girl in black. He was intrigued, but her presence made him feel like a travelling nothing. Finally he mustered the courage. He was intimidated to the point where he almost broke out in hives. He was strangely attracted to her, but she was by far the most spastic regular he'd watched. Some days she'd stare blissfully out the windows, watching the clouds move across the sky. Other days she'd be fighting back tears, every move violent. Totally unpredictable. Completely frightening. Kevin stood above her as she sat scribbling away in her notebook. He bent down slightly and asked, "Care for some company?" The stared at him with a completely stony expression. "Feel free," she said in a very friendly voice, but still with that face. She slowed her scribbling and eventually lounged about in the booth and began sipping her coffee. She began to speak. "You're an artist, I can tell," she spoke quite demurely, but still with the fierce, empty stare. "And you've been watching me, you want to be a regular here, you blend in with all the other faces. But you get me. Now you've come to confirm you're not crazy." Kevin was at a complete and utter loss for words. Finally, he managed to choke out, "Well, yeah, I write music now and again, just for something to do." He paused. She seemed to be waiting for him to say more, although her expression hadn't changed at all. He continued, "Um, yeah, my friend Alex showed me this place, it's pretty quaint." Once again, she sat in silence, lighting a cigarette and staring at him intently. He stammered forward. "I, uh, you know, just thought I'd come over, and, uh, talk to you a bit, since, since you seem to come here a lot and stuff." His attempt at courage was completely lost now, and any casual smoothness he had hoped to exude was absolutely laughable. Her glare was completely breaking him down now, and he averted his gaze. She began speaking again. "I'm Asilyn." She took a cool, relaxed drag from her smoke and slowly let it out. Kevin looked up again. "I'm Kevin," he answered. He tried to regain his cool. "So, Asilyn, what do you do, besides come here and write?" Her position shifted as she sat upright in the booth once more. Her face became a little softer, more casual, and much more expressive. "You know," she started, "not much at all. I go to work, I sleep, I eat, I write. I spend a lot of time relaxing," she added, "and just keeping things together. You know." Kevin instantly felt much more at ease with the girl, now that she had magically turned into a human being. "Yeah, I hear ya," he began. "I mean, I write music, but that's mostly a hobby. I have to work a regular job too, pay bills, yadda yadda. Normal life, normal everything," he summed, and took a long sip of his coffee. And suddenly, Asilyn violently put out her cigarette, folded her arms on the table in front of her, and leaned forward. "I like to touch people," she said. "People are so uptight about touch." Her eyes became bright and intense. "When a new waiter or waitress brings me my coffee, I like to reach over and touch their shoulder, run my hand down their arm. And they always recoil in horror, as if I had somehow infected them with leprosy and their limb was no longer human. And I just look at them, you know, LOOK at them," she said passionately, squinting her eyes a bit and becoming much more animated. "They think you're crazy. But you're not. It's them, they're the problem, they're not human, they can't deal with someone touching them." Asilyn was all spark as she lifted her mug to her lips again. "Touch is so horrifying. I like to touch. And I wish someone would touch me." Kevin was almost taken aback by her radically sudden interest in conversation, but instead became fuel himself and absorbed her fire. He too leaned forward. Without even thinking about it, he asked, "Listen, Asilyn, how about we get out of here, go take a drive, walk around or something?" he asked, suddenly feeling empowered. And instantly, Asilyn changed again. She once again sat straight up in her booth and regained the look of stone. She laughed quietly, sarcastically. She looked him dead in the eye and sneered, "I don't even KNOW you." Kevin was instantly back where he began, feeling like a lost puppy in rush hour traffic. Cut my losses, he thought. He began sliding out of the booth and muttering, "Well, Asilyn, nice to meet you..." Asilyn cut him off. She continued, almost spitting at him now: "You coward. You're no different than anyone else. Go, go write your music and read your newspaper and yadda yadda your way through life, go on." She rearranged herself in her seat again, banged a fist on the table, picked up her pen and began scribbling insanely. Kevin was completely aghast. His first instinct was to turn tail and run, but after she called him out, he knew that wasn't the way he wanted to leave. No. He stood outside of the booth and leaned down less than a foot from her engrossed, psychotic writing, and let it out. "Yeah, that's right, get all personal, because you're the one that comes here and flamboyantly vies for attention, then shuns anyone who attempts to get to know you. Don't think that nobody sees through that shit, that's why I'm the only one who has given you a chance. And if you want to keep playing your games, you go right ahead, because I'm through with them." Suddenly, the ever-changing Asilyn suddenly looked up at him, stamped out her cigarette, and said, "Let's go." She grabbed her notebook and slid quickly from the booth. She then grabbed Kevin's arm and nearly yanked him towards the door. She half- dragged him to the front counter and threw down a five for their coffee. Kevin then caught up with her and led her to his car. Once inside and with the car running, Kevin asked, "Okay, so, where do you--" "A park. Any park. The closest park, open space, anything," Asilyn interrupted, and Kevin pulled away. The car ride was one of the most uncomfortable moments that Kevin had ever experienced. Asilyn didn't speak; she didn't question, dictate, or react. And when they pulled into a small park overlooking another part of the city and parked, she quickly got out of the car and resumed dragging Kevin by the arm. By this time, Kevin just had to laugh; this was all so crazy. He started resisting her pull and laughing out loud. "What in the fuck are we doing here?" he asked her. With that, Asilyn stopped, and suddenly took on the appearance of a playful kitten. She giggled a bit, spun around walking backwards and tugged on Kevin's arm. "I have to show you something," she smiled. "I know you'll understand." She found a bit of shrubbery and foliage on one side of the park and quickly navigated through it, finding an oasis of sorts with a clearing and a bit of privacy. "Here," she glanced again at Kevin. "Sit down, here in the grass." Kevin was amazed at the sudden turn of events, and was starting to get a bit suspicious. Yet he sat just the same, and asked, "Okay, what on earth is this all abou--" "Shhhh," hissed Asilyn. She kneeled in front of him. "Close your eyes. I need to show you what I do. You'll understand, you're an artist." At this point, Kevin really had no other choice but to leave himself in her hands. He closed his eyes, and soon he felt her hands on his head, her thumbs just above his eyebrows. Asilyn began running her fingers down across his face, back up across his cheeks, alternately babytouching and scratching lightly with her fingernails. She pressed, she massaged, she tickled, she gouged. And her hands ran their way across his face, down his neck, across his shoulders, arms, and chest, down to his stomach and around his sides to his kidneys. He could feel her breath on his face as she began reciting: "As the lock broke..." (the backs of her fingertips up his chest) "Entered warm sea foam..." (circles of tickling touch on his neck) "Until black night..." (grasping his jawline, thumbs to his lips) "Struggling to roam..." (clawing to his hair, clearing his face) "Desperate for the lock..." (moving closer, breath inches from his) "And some kind of home." She had nearly wrapped herself around him, and Kevin still hadn't opened his eyes. The intensity was beyond astounding as she ran her hands once more to his face and breathed heavily into him. "Open your eyes, Kevin," she purred, and their eyes locked. Neither of them moved. Kevin fought every urge to lean forward the ridiculously short distance to kiss her, to touch her, to give her everything her body pleaded with him to do. Yet he couldn't, no matter how much the desire overwhelmed him. And after what seemed like forever, Asilyn spoke. "Someday, someone will touch me," she whispered, and her eyes grew sad. She then sank back away from Kevin and stood up. Neither said a word as she turned and walked away. **************************************************************************** # (c)2000 aNAda e'zine aNAda085 .*. by Phairgirl # ............................................................................