I'm just a girl trying to find her own custom groove in this world without bending to the expectations of others.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Perspective - A Scheherazade Project Entry

A second submission for The Scheherazade Project. This week's theme: "Don't Fear the Blue Monkey" (Criticism welcome)

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The soft, echoing thump of the base could be heard before Shelby even opened the door to the club. She glanced nervously across the street before shouldering her way into the smoke filled atmosphere of the Bressa Del Rio.

Once inside, her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and quickly scanned for an available table. She wanted something obscure; somewhere they could have their privacy without having to yell over the music. Taking a seat at a table near the back, the band belting out their rendition of Sweet Home Alabama, Shelby wondered again if she was in over her head. Even though she had quit smoking years ago, she longed for a cigarette to soothe her nerves and occupy her shaky hands.

A waiter appeared. "I noticed you're keeping an eye on the door. Are you waiting for someone?"

"Yeah, sorta," Shelby replied, already annoyed with the lanky employee whose name tag said simply, 'Bub'.

"You wanna wait or order a drink?" Bub asked.

When Shelby told him that she wanted a Sam Adams Summer Ale, Bub tried to convince her that she really wanted one of the specialty drinks. She glanced at the door again as he rattled off the list of choices, "......Apple Martini, Rum Runner, The Blue Monkey....."

"Wait, what the hell is a Blue Monkey?" she asked trying her best to sound annoyed.

Not picking up on her irritation, Bub recited the ingredients. "Blue Curacao, Banana Liquor and pineapple juice. Trust me, it will get you feeling right."

She nodded, anxious for the waiter to leave. She needed to think before he arrived. Needed to decide what she was going to do if he actually showed up. They'd been talking for months, her and Ben, but for all intents and purposes, they were practically strangers. She wasn't even sure she'd recognize him if he walked in. Still, she had real feelings for this guy. She longed to feel his touch, his kiss, to be part of his world; but sitting here now, she wasn't sure about any of those things.

Shelby noticed that her drink was on the table and she took a long sip, hoping for an instant buzz. It was actually very tasty and she quickly finished it as the band sang a Pink Floyd song. Shelby tapped her foot to the beat already feeling the affects of the alcohol. She motioned for Bub to bring another.

Where was Ben anyway, she wondered. A peek at her cell phone told her that she hadn't missed a call. It also confirmed that he was half an hour late. Her mind replayed their recent telephone conversations. Did she misinterpret his affection for her? Did she make too much of the poems and letters he wrote to her? She really hadn't thought about what she'd do if he didn't come. She finished her second drink.

When Bub came to suggest a third Blue Monkey, Shelby had to turn away so she wouldn't see the sympathetic look in his eyes. She didn't want Bub of all people to know she was being jerked around and she especially didn't want his pity. "Maybe he got caught in traffic," Bub offered.

Shelby bit back the urge to say something nasty and instead countered, "How about that drink?"

Half way through that one, her apprehension turned to anger. She dialed Ben's cell number. No answer. Shit. An hour and fifteen minutes late now. He wasn't going to come. Her mind juggled the humiliation, anger and disappointment, each emotion a giant ball suspended in the stale air. She threw thirty dollars on the table and hurried to the door before the concerned waiter saw her again.

She was relieved to see a taxi waiting half a block away and she ran toward it, the pounding of her feet echoing in her broken heart. She fell into the back seat with tears stabbing at her eyes. Her throat constricted around a sob but she managed to choke out to the driver, "Just go."

As her cab pulled away, the door to the Bressa Del Rio opened again and a dark haired man walked in. Breathless from running, his eyes frantically searched for a blond woman sitting alone, waiting. Waiting for him.

15 comments:

Cheryl said...

Love it! And what a great title--sucked me in before I even started reading the story.

i used to be me said...

Excellent, Michelle.

Martie said...

Nice read, kiddo!!

Theresa said...

She may not have picked a guy bright enough to know how to use the phone, but at least she was smart enough to take a cab after 3 Blue Monkeys. Those things have quite a kick!

Well done, Michelle. Is this autobiograpical?

Michelle said...

Thanks Cheryl, UG, and Mom.

No Theresa, it's not autobiographical. My last submission was taken from real life experiences, I wanted the total opposite for this story.

Itchy said...

Poor Ben. Can't afford a phone.

Very good story, Naive...well done!

Spin_Doc1 said...

I only wait 30 minutes, and then I am out of there! I with Theresa, why couldn't he call?

The Devil said...

That was an awesome read! I love how everyone's stories are all stemming from this picture and how everyone is inspired completely differently and interprets it with the varying writting styles.

I am so putting you on my list of blogs I adore!

Trista said...

Naive, you set a great scene. And I love the interpretation of Blue Monkey into a drink. Can you push the story a little further past the time the man enters the bar? Can we get his reaction? Another way to look at this story would be to tell it from the view of the waiter... how much of her motives and thoughts can her tell just from her body language and ordering style?

Anonymous said...

Great story!

Ame said...

very much enjoyed this ... i just fell into it and was sorry it ended :) look forward to reading your next story :)

Rebecca said...

Good for you Naive.... really very good. Are you going to be putting together a book, maybe self publishing?

Joy said...

nnm, i LOVED this piece. and i must echo what other's have said, it would be great to see the story from ben's pov. like ame, i, too was sorry the story ended. well done!

Cheryl said...

Just putting you on notice that I expect to hear about a canoe trip. And maybe even see some pictures. :)

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