"And that's why till this day I can't look at hello kitty without wanting to leave wherever I'm at!" I said between bouts of laughter. Zara and I had been talking easily for the past 40 minutes or so. It felt so natural conversing with her; it felt like time had not passed at all. She was both a good listener and a good speaker, something that was rare to find in anyone. And furthermore, she didn't like stiff formalities and stuffy speech. Talking to her, one would never assume this was a woman who had revolutionized the way Engineering was taught in her final year at MIT. She was so laid back and now that she had decided to really give me a chance, I was let into the mind of someone that was truly unique and interesting.
"I think I'm ruined on hello kitty now as well, god David," she sighed.
The laughter died down, and she let in a breathy intake of air. It was so peaceful, gentle. There was a comfortable moment of silence, I got off my bed and made my way onto my large terrace and sat on a comfortable wicker lounge chair. Gazing out at the city lights, I couldn't help but take in the striking beauty of the night. I felt a courage surge through me from the night's anonymity and yet felt vulnerable all the same.
"The night is incandescent," I murmured.
Zara chuckled. "How can the night be incandescent David?"
"Though I am taking by darkness, there is light that emanates from your laugh, your voice, the innocent intimacy that surges between us," I said softly.
I could hear her soft intake of breath again and then the steady rhythm of her breathing. "Are you a poet David?"
"You make me feel like I could be one."
And then her steady breathing was erratic, it was quick and then all at once –like it had never happened –it was softly paced again.
"Tell me about what you like to do in your free time David," she said. She certainly had a way at changing topics.
"Well, I mostly see my family and friends. We go out camping, kayaking, canoeing, to the bar. Anything really, I just like being with them."
"What are they like? Your friends, I mean."
"Well," I chucked, "You've met Art."
Zara laughed. "Yes, I have."
"The rest are kind of like him. Jansen is our dad. He's married, has a baby on the way, and tries to keep us out of trouble. He even has a really boring dad job; He's a dentist."
Zara was laughing hard now. She took a moment to catch her breath. "As if! Okay, So Jansen the Dentist Dad, who else?"
She was adorable. "Then there is Avery, he's our designated sexy guy. He's a doctor at the Health Science's Center, works in the children's intensive care Unit. He's really funny though and thoughtful. If wasn't already betrothed to Art I would have probably gone for him."
"Well, it seems you have a lot of suitable mating partners," she laughed.
"Are you making a play on me?"
"You wish, Lover Boy."
"So I'm Lover Boy now?"
"Would you prefer Left Boob Boy?" she teased.
I groaned. "I will never live that down, once again, so sorry."
"Don't fret it; in the words of Elizabeth Bennet, I do dearly love to tease."
"Now that you've brought up that little bit of our history, I do have a question for you," I mused.
"Oh? And what would the question be?"
"Well..."I struggled at finding the right words. I didn't want to sound accusatory or hurt. But I was a little bothered by it and I needed to know what her answer would be. "What did you mean that day when you said 'what's with you old white guys'? Emphasis on the white part."
Zara laughed easily. "Yeah I'm sorry about that; it was kind of judgemental and racist of me." A girl who could admit she was wrong about something? I could get used to this.
"I'm listening," I prodded.
"I had been getting so many comments from older white men during that week about my skin colour. They would make comments that were supposed to be compliments but actually were very racist, sexists and belittling. I'd get a man in his 50s with a wedding band around his finger telling me 'what's a pretty African flower like you doing working in a place like this?" I could now hear the intense irritation in her voice. She also mimicked men's voices really well. "Why did they have to bring in the 'African' into it? What's wrong with 'what's a pretty girl like you doing working at a place like this?' It's the fetishism that makes me angry. Men I don't know telling me they'd like to 'have a taste' of my 'exotic African chocolate' because when I fucking woke up in the morning the first thing I told myself is 'today I want to be an exotic African chocolate so that a creep I don't know can have a taste of me' ugh!" She paused, and then sighed. "Sorry, I'm ranting."
Her rant was both amusing and enlightening. I'd never really thought about the racist context behind sayings like that and I could see where she had lumped my creepiness in with other assholes that were looking to score. It didn't feel good, but I understood it.
"No, it's okay, get it all out."
She exhaled gruffly. "And I don't like the whole 'what's a girl like you doing working in a place like this' line. That was a wonderful place to work, all my coworkers were super friendly and knowledgeable, the boss was very understanding and organized and wholeheartedly kind. I hate the notion that working in retail automatically makes you trashy or irresponsible or like you don't have your shit together. I've met a lot of hardworking people that work in retail and you don't know anyone's circumstance and why they ended up where they are so it's absolutely ignorant to judge a person on something like that." She inhaled and exhaled slowly as if to calm herself down. "Anyways, sorry, these things just get me so worked up."
I chuckled, trying to ease some of the tension that had been created. "Hey, don't fret it. I just wanted to make sure you didn't hate white people," I joked.
"Ha, no of course not. I shouldn't have made such ridiculous generalizations, and I'm not trying to make excuses for my behavior. It's never okay to seriously say any of those things or the things that were said to me."
I laughed, it was strangely humorous to me that she seemed to be more upset with herself than I was with her. I decided to lighten the mood up a little, something to get us back to the fun and flirty conversation were having before. Something to make her happy.
"So, exotic chocolate huh? To me you're more like a rose. A rose with thorns, lots of them."
"Asshole!" She exclaimed with a snort.
"See what I mean? Pluck at the wrong place and you get stabbed."
"Don't make me come over there," She threatened.
"Oh please do, a few pricks by the thorns are worth it if I can admire the beauty of the flower."
"If you get corny of on me I will hang up the phone, Lover Boy."
I laughed. "Alright, alright. But you should still come over anyways, there's enough room on my bed for the both of us." I said suggestively.
"You're hopeless aren't you?"
"Zara, stop thinking such dirty thoughts. I was merely implying we could have a friendly round of the card game War...on my bed."
"Yup; hopeless."
We talked for a bit more, mostly about how we both wished we could be out on the lake or seated by a well-tended campfire.
"What do you like the most about camping?" I asked.
"I don't know," she mused. "I don't really know how to describe it. I like the way the dirt feels beneath my toes, I like the gritty feel of lake water. It feels like it doesn't give any fucks. I like the way the air feels and tastes and smells. It smells like freedom. I've always wanted that, freedom. And when I'm out there gazing up at the moon and listening to the ruffle of the trees I feel like there's nothing standing in my way. Out there it's just me vs nature. It's not me verses the world or me verses myself. Just me verses basic survival."
There was a pregnant pause, in which I closed my eyes and tried of think of what I could possibly ever say to that. And I couldn't think of anything for the life of me so I lay there, listening to her soft breathing at the other end of the line.
Who would have thought, two months ago, that I'd spending a Friday night on my terrace listening to the conflicted musings of a 22 year old woman I was bewitched by? Who would have thought that this would be one of the best evenings I'd had in a long time and I'd be anxious to do it again, only this time, to see her face. I thought about all the literature they crammed down my throat in high school and of the great romances in it. Actually, I thought of Elizabeth and Mr. Bennett and how I had always found the notion of a sharp witted tongue on a young woman overrated, but now it was the thing that kept me up at this late hour.
It was past midnight and we had been talking for over 3 hours. I'd never had a conversation with anyone for that long of a period before, not even with Artur. I was 29 years old and I'd never had a stimulating three hour conversation with anyone. Was that sad or normal? I didn't know.
We sat in silence for a while, I didn't know if she'd fallen asleep; I had never talked a girl to sleep before. And I was content sitting there in placid silence, being connected with someone that I couldn't even see or touch.
"David." Her voice was gentle and sleepy, and even in her drowsy state her voice was still playful and sweet.
"Zara."
"I'm sleepy."
"As am I."
She yawned. "This was fun, I mean it."
I smiled. "Yes it was, we should do it again, but in person."
She let out a soft chuckle. "Are you asking me out?"
"No, I'm asking you to accompany me on a peaceful stroll through the park. No obligations, just more of your rants."
"I'd like that. Perhaps we could go foraging. I know a great place to go foraging."
Only Zara would want to go foraging on a first date. I didn't know 22 year olds even knew how to forage. I didn't even know how to forage myself. Artur was the one who knew all that stuff; I would normally just eat his good finds.
"So then technically you are taking me out on a date," I noted.
"Don't get ahead of yourself Lover Boy, I might change my mind," she taunted. "And no, I'm not taking you out on a date. I'm just planning the date, deciding where we are going, and picking you up, you are still very much taking me."
I chuckled. "Alrighty there boss, I'll just come along for the ride."
"By the way, thanks for not prying about why I had to delay our scheduled talk, and for letting me rant and not judging me," she said.
"No problem, I figured you had your reasons and you'd tell me when you felt comfortable to. And your rants were both cute and enlightening."
"I did, and I will, and bugger off you sap."
That was really all I could ask for. She seemed like the kind of person that only opened up when they chose to.
"And David?"
"Yeah?"
"I'd like to make one out of you," she murmured.
"A what?"
I could hear the smile in her voice now. "A poet. Goodnight David."
And then she was gone.
A/N thank you for reading my story! If you are enjoying it, please vote, share it with your friends and comment down below, I'll really really appreciate it.
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