Encounters (1)

1. Connection

The brunette stepped out of the black convertible and slung her red leather jacket over her shoulder, not waiting for her current boyfriend to open the car’s door for her. And why should she? Already she was sick of playing girlfriend and having to do all the “girlfriendly” stuff it implied. It was incredibly boring (and being bored was something she couldn’t abide), and made her feel like a twenty-four-hour actress. And why should she call him “boyfriend” anyway, when he was just a “repeated date”?

“Hey, Yulia, wait up!” he yelled at her back, while she entered the party, not stopping, not even turning around. You’re so fucking boring, she thought.

The boy caught up with her in three long strides and slung his shoulder over Yulia’s shoulders, possessively - something he only did when they were to encounter more people socially. She thought of them as her audience -something every actress needed-, and allowed her date’s possessiveness in exchange for her own sulky attitude. They made such unspoken agreements all the time, and it always marveled her that all their communication -their real communication- took place like that: silently, behind curtains of thoughts that would never be voiced. Their other, spoken conversations were only noise to her, like radio static. Why did she have to participate, or listen to empty dialogue anyway?

She walked straight to the bar as soon as her date spotted someone he knew. The party had been organized by one of his friends, so she wasn’t expected to stay at his side permanently, like a Siamese twin or a lesser shadow. It was part of their unspoken deal, and she was glad to be such an outsider from her date and all of his acquaintances. The boys didn’t consider her much because she was “tied up” -much to their dismay sometimes-, and the girls chose to criticize her existence - she’d heard them a million times already, sniggering about her in the ladies’ room when they thought she wasn’t there. Oh, those bitches… She preferred the ones that called her a slut for going out with Alex -her date- when she clearly didn’t even like him (these ones, at least, told the truth). At the same time, they all ignored her; even though they chattered frequently about her and even towards her, they rarely talked to her.

So the only option left was the bar, which wasn’t a problem at all.

“I’ll have a vodka tonic, please.”

The solution, as always, was to drink away their voices, so that even their faces would blur into the cheery, party music. The brunette lit a cigarette to keep herself from tapping her fingernails on the bar while waiting for the drink. That night she felt particularly bored, which was dangerous, since her moods determined her drinking habits and the way she drank.

“I’ll have the same,” someone said - a girl Yulia had never seen before, who appeared out of nowhere and sat at her right, leaving an empty stool between them.

Maybe she was somebody’s new girlfriend? The girl wore a black skirt and a turquoise halter top, but the most noticeable thing about her was a long mane of deep-red curls which cascaded over her back and shoulders. Yulia diverted her eyes from the young woman when the waiter placed the glass in front of her, and gave into it with gusto before glancing at the redhead again.

Normally, she would never even contemplate talking to someone in those parties, but she had to when she saw how fast the girl drank, but not to party, and that spiked Yulia’s curiosity. Finally, she muttered a shy greeting.

“Hello,” answered the redhead, smiling imperceptibly. She had cold, penetrating eyes that seemed perfectly capable of x-raying anyone before even blinking.

Yulia was beginning to feel the familiar warmth spreading all over her body, and welcomed it. Alcohol never failed her; it always worked its way through her, calming her and making her feel easygoing. It made reality feel less episodic and more like a fluid, so that traveling through it was easier; so that she could do it without stumbling. She glanced at the girl, wondering if it had the same effect over her, given that they drank similarly, but the stranger was wiping her lower lip with a ringed index finger, seemingly abstracted from the world. Then, she jerked her head to the right, tossing the wild red hair out of the way, and went on drinking, paying Yulia no mind.

“I don’t know you, do I? I’m Yulia,” she asked, aware of the risk. She expected a short, leave-me-alone-like answer, similar to the one she would’ve given anybody in the redhead’s situation.

“My name is Elena,” the girl said, in a surprisingly amiable way.

So she wasn’t bothering her? Yulia felt relieved, not really knowing why she wanted to talk to her, when she never felt like talking to anyone.

“Nice to meet you.” And it was - unpredictably, it was nice meeting her. “So, are you a friend of what’s-her-name?”

“No. In fact, I don’t know anyone here. I came with Phil?”

“Oh, okay. Sorry, don’t know him.” Phil, Phil, Phil… No, the name didn’t ring a bell, but that wasn’t strange, given that it had been a long time since Yulia had last paid attention to Alex’s friends.

Elena turned to look over her shoulder and pointed at a reasonably handsome guy in a red shirt. Yulia acknowledged that she’d never seen him before… and couldn’t care less, really. Except… that Phil was surely having a great time, laughing and pounding on someone’s shoulder. A very familiar someone: her own date.

“See that guy he’s with?” Yulia asked, pointing unnecessarily. “He’s Alex. That’s who I came with.”

“Oh,” Elena chuckled softly. “Looks like they’re enjoying each other’s company more than ours. Should we be jealous?”

“No way. Not me at least.” She barked a laugh and took out a pack of cigarettes, offering it to Elena, who extracted one with a nod and a twitch of a smile.

“No, me neither. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. It’s not like I feel like socializing.”

The brunette nodded with arched eyebrows. Their attitudes were so similar… Maybe they weren’t proper, or right, but they were very close, which was all that really mattered. There was only boring and less boring for Yulia, and this was definitely of the “less boring” kind.

She lit Elena’s cigarette and then her own, enjoying the experience of just observing the girl, like a fascinating spectacle: a moving Vermeer painting.

“You don’t look the type to hang with those girls either,” Yulia said, taking a drag and finishing off her drink. “Most of them are horribly vapid, you know. Plus, now you’re talking to me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Elena asked, mockingly. “Are you dangerous?”

“Hmm… Well, I should’ve warned you, in case you wanted to make friends, ‘cause most of them must be scratching your name off their list this very minute. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, but maybe that’s just me.”

Yulia tapped the side of her empty glass and pointed to Elena’s, indicating the waiter that she wanted another round for both of them. When she turned to Elena, she suddenly saw her much closer, which sent all her smoothness out the window. For a moment, all she could see were her eyes, discovering their color: a mixture of green and grey. She had to blink to readjust her mind to the new distance. What the…? Oh. Now she understood; the girl had changed seats and was occupying the stool next to her. Looks like she doesn’t care for popularity lists after all, she thought, mentally shrugging and inwardly pleased.

The waiter came by with their drinks, and Elena thanked her before drinking away. Wow. This girl really drinks like me. Yulia turned her body towards the redhead so she could look at her better. Elena seemed to notice this, and frowned, although a polite smile was grazing her lips.

“What?” asked Elena.

“Nothing, nothing,” Yulia said, a little hurriedly. “It’s just… you drink like me.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s just a lot.” she laughed and shook her head.

The redhead joined in her laughter and then lifted her glass to finish her drink. She shrugged, as if to say: I can’t do anything about it.

“I knew you weren’t like those other girls.” Yulia said.

“Why, because I drink insanely and my boyfriend abandons me? So… am I like you?”

“Oh, no. You’re not like me. My boyfriend doesn’t abandon me. I abandon him.” Yulia grandly concluded.

“Right, of course. Please, accept my humble excuses,” the redhead said, mockingly. “What is the poor guy doing with you anyway?”

“Just wasting a big amount of time. What are you doing with him?”

“More or less doing what my father wants.”

“He made you go out with that guy?” Yulia giggled.

“Why are you laughing?” the girl’s voice didn’t quite turn to ice, but her demeanor tensed, cutting the brunette’s giggles at once.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Yulia offered her another cigarette in silence, just because lighting it for Lena gave her a strange, small thrill. Also, she enjoyed watching her smoking it. She felt so weird, so not herself… However, at the same time, she was having fun (which was also weird, given the circumstances), and didn’t want to spoil it by saying the wrong thing. She found herself doing an effort she’d never done for anyone before, since she had never felt the need.

It was also true that something in Elena was different from the rest. Her aura of mystery was most affecting - but Yulia wasn’t interested in unraveling it yet, just to thrust herself into it.

“What I meant is that I can’t really imagine anyone making you do something you don’t want to do. Like setting you up with guys.”

Elena merely shook her head and sipped her drink. Her shoulders had relaxed, slumped downwards. “Maybe I want it too.”

“Sure…” Yulia felt a little deceived, but didn’t know exactly why.

“But I really don’t, you know,” said Elena, with a small voice.

“You don’t? They why do you go out with him?”

The redhead’s answer was the action of throwing her head back and finishing off her drink. Then, she sucked on her cigarette one last time before smashing it against the blue ashtray.

Yulia became scared again of having crossed an imaginary but very personal boundary, one that would make Elena say “that’s enough” and leave. However, at the same time, she was feeling so warm and drowsy that it was getting hard to concentrate on what she should or shouldn’t do. Her insides were pushing her to go with the flow, and how could she disagree, when the things on the outside seemed to flow as well? There was the certainty that she would end up making a fool of herself, but her eyesight was finding rationality quite blurry. All thanks to alcohol.

On the other hand, alcohol didn’t seem to do much for Elena. There were no visible effects that Yulia could see. She was just sitting there, her green eyes fixed on the bar’s surface, while the brunette felt like swaying in her stool.

“I’m sorry if I’m asking too many questions,” Yulia muttered, a little desperately. “You could really ask me the same.”

“It’s fine.” The answer was automatic, and Yulia didn’t like it at all.

“No, it’s not. It’s personal stuff and I got no right. I just met you.”

“That makes no difference. The people I’ve known for years… they don’t know me.”

“Like Phil?”

“Phil?” Elena barked a surprised laugh, almost like she had forgotten his existence or something. “For example, yes.”

“Do you even like him?” Almost immediately, she was sorry, but the girl didn’t seem to mind.

“He’s very nice.”

“Ooh, feel the love,” Yulia laughed, daring to push Elena’s shoulder gently.

“The what?”

Both girls started chuckling like a pair of cynical old ladies, but it didn’t last long. Yulia glanced at the hand that had touched the girl’s shoulder because she felt her fingers tingling. Weird. It couldn’t be only drunkenness. Could she be about to have a heart attack? Nah, no way.

“You feel that?” asked the brunette, her voice thick.

“Feel what?”

“I don’t really know… I guess I’m just drunk.”

“Well, I’m drunk too.”

“Really? But you look so steady.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m always like this.” Elena turned to face her.

“What do you mean always?”

There was a pause. “I guess I’m not a very passionate person.

“I don’t believe that,” Yulia shook her head dismissively. Nonsense. “You’re either lying or you still haven’t found something to feel passionately about.”

“And you won’t find out which is true,” the redhead delivered the most quizzical smile. “Have you found that something?”

“Maybe.” What the fuck are you doing, Yulia? Her only desire was that Elena would turn around, so that she could punch herself in the face without being seen.

After some moments of silence, Elena raised a hand to her temple and Yulia, who was awaiting a different reaction -any reaction, really-, worried.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m dizzy.”

“’Cause of the drinks?”

“No,” the redhead answered, her voice strong and a little too even. “It’s not that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been drunk before.”

Yulia didn’t add anything to that. She was under the impression that a casual comment would’ve killed something and, whatever that something was, she did not want to kill it. She could have said something else, of course, but had no idea of which words would have improved the silence. Her brain wasn’t feeling too coherent.

“Look at the time,” Elena said, after what seemed an eternity of silence.

“Yeah, it could be getting kinda late.” Yulia muttered, out of obligation. She wasn’t even wearing a watch.

“And we did nothing tonight,” the redhead fumed. “I really don’t know why I came at all.”

“Well…” She didn’t know what to say, but there was no need. Clearly, Elena was having a conversation by herself and didn’t need Yulia.

"What a waste of time.”

With that, the girl set her empty glass on the bar, stood up and strolled over to her boyfriend Phil, who didn’t acknowledge her presence or her voice until she pulled at his sleeve. Yulia watched the situation as if it were a silent movie, for the first time noticing the festive, silly music.

All she could think about anyway was that Elena’s words and her sudden, anticlimactic departure had “kinda” hurt, and wondered why.