Excerpt: Among the Living

The air was lukewarm velvet, the night in September, possibly a Tuesday. Neon lights were humming; beer ads in the windows and the big sign above him that read “Hula Hoop Harry's”. High above, insects buzzed and bumped in a frenzy of activity. He watched and listened to them for a period of time that he couldn't determine, wearing a shit-eating grin like some kid who had just gotten his first fuck at a kegger.

Speak of the devil...he was bumped roughly from behind by a drunken six-foot-four kid in a cap, whose girl stumbled under his weight as she propped him up by holding his arm over her shoulders. The mating cry of the college student pierced through the night as the girl let out a ear-splitting “WHOOOOOO!” Her male counterpart replied with his own football-like war cry. Their shrieks and laughter broadcasted their party mood even after they'd turned the corner past the Dunkin Donuts. He stood and stared at nothing for a while, rubbing his arm absentmindedly.

A car pulled into a space in front of him. He stared into its headlights, motionless, and the three guys inside the car watched him doing this for a minute and laughed at him. The lights turned off and the three exited the vehicle, walking toward the door of Hula Hoop Harry's. The guy who had been driving stopped momentarily to examine him. “Dude, you okay?” the guy asked. He blinked, but couldn't see much as the image of the headlights was still burnt into his retinas. The driver chuckled. “So. You like my car or something?” No reply, just more blinking. “Well, that's cool. Just don't puke on it or anything, okay?” He still didn't say anything, just blinked at the fading after-image in his eyes. The driver shot a funny look to his friends waiting at the door, and they all laughed again. The driver slapped him firmly on his already-bruised shoulder and said, “Look, buddy, maybe you need to call a cab or something? Maybe stop lurking around parking lots, like ones that have my car in them? No offense, but you're making me kinda nervous the way you're looking at it.”

He startled the driver as he suddenly came alive, as if somebody had just flipped his “On” switch. He jerked and said, “Sorry! Sorry. Just recuperating.” He let out a loud, nervous chuckle. The surprised driver moved away. “Uh, no problem. I been there. You take care, now,” the guy said as he walked quickly toward his sniggering buddies at the door. He tried to laugh with them, calling back, “Thanks! I will! Uh...nice ride.” They had already disappeared inside the bar, though.

He shrugged, feeling like a moron. Yeah, he'd definitely had enough to drink. “Must be getting old,” he murmured to himself.

But the air was alive, and calling to him. Tiny particles in the air colliding with his skin. The vibrations of the parking lot gravel moving under his shoes. Reverberations of a million sounds making his entire being hum along to the melody of his singing skin. His mouth tasted faintly of copper, his head was full of music, his body full of...fullness. He wanted to hug the world. His eyes closed and rolled back in their sockets. Blossoms of colored light danced to his tune. He held his arms out, grinning goofily, and wiggled his fingertips slowly, caressing the blanket of humidity and darkness. He was vaguely aware of being semi-erect, in more ways than one. He was walking, he realized belatedly and with mild interest. Walking with his arms out, his eyes closed, grinning.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. He could envision cheap heels smashing into the gravel behind him. Then the somewhat familiar voice that pulled him further out of bliss: “Hey...HEY!” He hadn't heard it before, not really, not in the gentle hum and buzz of the night air, only a muted version of it as filtered through the thump and roar of the live music in the bar. It sounded younger than he recalled, less self-assured. He paused in mid-walk and mid-caress. He wiggled his fingers more quickly, as if trying to play the gesture off as a wave of some kind, meaning “Hello”, or “Goodbye”, or “Oh, it's you. Sorry you lost me and I forgot that you exist. Here's where I'm hiding, tee hee.”

She giggled, then gasped as she tripped. She lunged and grabbed at his arm with both hands to keep from falling face first on the ground. He stood perfectly still with his back to her, an immovable rock, just feeling the warmth of her small hands through the thin fabric of his coat. He pictured her falling and then looking up at him with a sheepish grin as she spit out pebbles comically. Then he wondered why his brain was being such a dick.

“Jesus fuck!” she said with a bit too much brashness, embarrassed at her clumsiness. “God, sorry. Hey. So...I was looking all over for you. Um, where'd you go?” There was a pause and a self-conscious chuckle. “Uh, yeah, that was stupid for me to say, 'cause you went here, obviously.”

He kept his eyes closed, stubbornly refusing to fully abandon his lovely dream state, but flipped another internal switch. Click. He searched through his short-term memory folder for a name to match with the voice.

“What I mean is...okay, so you're leaving. But do you...you don't have to, do you? I just want to...” she suddenly went silent and just stood there, her scuffed heels shuffling through gravel. Timid, confused little girl shoes, he pictured. But more likely they were tamely slutty four-inchers she'd gotten at Payless. Jesus, he really was being an asshole tonight.

He sighed inwardly, and turned his head as he opened his eyes to look at her. She had big, baby browns, a slightly upturned nose, and sweetly bowed lips coated in shiny, pink gloss. Click.

“Kimber,” he said, rolling the word on his tongue like a not-too-cheap-but-just-cheap-enough wine. A pleasant, recent sensory memory brought a languid smile to his face. Her cheeks, already flushed, reddened even more.

“Hey,” he said to her, stupidly. His eyebrows did a naughty dance for her. His vision swayed a bit, because his body was swaying a bit, he realized. Kimber didn't mind. She giggled and replied, “Hey.” He studied her pretty smile and wanted to write a sonnet about diving for pearls that looked exactly like her little, white teeth.

The tension in her posture relaxed under his reassuring gaze. She looked into his eyes with something akin to wonder, but at the same time she found her footing and smirked at him. “You're pretty wasted, huh? Funny, 'cause you sure seemed to have your shit together in there.” He didn't answer, and she shifted her weight onto one hip, trying to find the right words. “Look. I think you're really, really great. Cute, and like, this totally amazing kisser. I mean, when I went in there tonight I never would have thought of walking out - or trying to walk out, anyway - with a guy like you...”

“A guy like me?” he interrupted with a teasing raise of the eyebrow. “And exactly what kind of guy am I like?”

“Ahh. You know,” she said, looking away. “Smart. Funny. Really adorable in an off-beat kind of way? I dunno, kind of intellectual and unconventional?” She laughed at her own silliness and looked at her feet.

He gently and loosely wrapped his arms around her, kissed her on the forehead. “'Off-beat', eh? Hmm. I dunno...” he teased, pretending to mull it over. “And 'intellectual'? As if.”

“Yeah, well definitely compared to the rest of them. So, what do you say?” she whispered seductively into his chest. He rested his chin on her head and experienced the scent of her, sprayed hair, shampoo, sweat, body spray, slightly pickled breath. Leather, plastic, acrylic. The essence of this particular woman. The expected urge to experience her as fully as possible came over him. Without much effort, he pushed it away. Shut up and just enjoy this, he told his body. He remained silent, trying to savor and extend the moment, but she was determined. “Your lips aren't saying no, and your pants definitely seem to be saying yes,” she said. He couldn't disagree. “How about we go to my place...er...” she faltered, her face looking up at his blankly.

“Graeme, with two e's,” he reminded her with a chiding tap to the bottom.

“Right. Graham-with-two-e's. Uh, what the fuck does that mean, anyway?” she asked with a laugh. He rolled his eyes, pinched her butt, and brushed his fingers against her neck, pushing her hair away. He smiled softly at the growing purple flower of a bruise on her neck and briefly pressed his lips there.

“I dunno, I think it might be too hard for you to understand, hickey queen,” he replied with charming sarcasm. He kissed her with expert tongue. Not too much or too little. Second kiss for a one-night stand tongue. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and guided her toward his car.

“Fuck off,” she giggled. “It's not my fault you're such a nibbler. That's what I'm gonna call you. The Nibbler.”

“Not my fault you're so sweet,” he said.