Nostalgia Ch. 03

Author's Note: Warning. Quite a few of these characters are not politically correct.

***

The Internet hadn't killed public libraries just yet. People still went to those places occasionally. This particular public library was very much alive, quiet, but alive. It was a grand, red brick building with white columns and white stoops.

Some people were using the free wifi. Some people were borrowing physical books, DVDs, audio books, and even Blu-rays. There was also an e-book borrowing service; a librarian was showing it off to someone. Important old newspapers, maps, genealogies, works of local authors living and dead, and many other things were available to history nerds.

And it smelled so good.

Soft old paperbacks, hardcovers that had their corners rounded over time, polished wooden shelves and desks, plush chairs and sofas, tables of varying sizes.

The classic library atmosphere could never be beaten.

And it was raining too, pattering on the building.

Tucked into a corner, Ana idly leafed through a large book of photographs of snakes. Then, she put that book away, sat back down, and read a magazine.

Her life consisted of only that for a long time, getting bored of something, putting it away, and picking out something else. In fact, the next time she looked at her cell phone, it was six-thirty pm. The place would close at eight. Maybe she should stop wasting time and go home.

But a soft yet sturdy voice made her brain flash and her lips smack.

"Oh, Alo."

Oh, Hello.

She closed her current book and looked up at the person.

Yep.

Vlad Dalca was there, smiling down at her, his hair tied over his shoulder, wearing a T-shirt with a V-neck.

Time to speak Romanian.

"Hello," Ana said. "How are you?"

A small book was in one of his great hands. It looked to be a novel. "I'm fine. I came here a short time ago." He shrugged and put his book on a table. "When I saw you, I wondered if you visit this place often."

"Not often at all, but only because I'm usually busy."

His mean looking cheeks rose very subtly. "Oh? Is that so? It seems very unfortunate."

"I can't agree with you." Ana got out of her seat, smoothed out her gray Capri pants, and picked up the book she'd been looking at. "I need to put this away. Excuse me."

But ... he followed her, giving her low words and a headache. His steps behind her sounded and felt like someone banging on a door. "My son was supposed to have dinner with me, but he's abandoned me for a new friend."

"That too bad." Ana said that in English as she slid the book back on a shelf, right in the same spot she'd found it, tightly squeezed between two other books.

"Would you mind joining me for dinner? I wanted to go to the Italian restaurant with the red roof."

From the shelf, her hand dropped, the fingers bending very painfully, clawing at the air.

But she looked at his eyes. She had to, otherwise, he might think she wasn't being honest. Her smile wasn't very honest, though. "I should go home, but I do appreciate your kind offer."

Light! A zipping, dash of light! Ana gasped. Was that lightning? Was a storm coming? That wasn't expected.

The man before her was nearly stone, immune to whatever astonishment a bit of lightning could bring. Yet, he still smiled ...

Was that smile ... about to tremble?

He inhaled.

Blinked.

Then exhaled.

"Ah, I must seem too aggressive. I'm sorry."

Great. Now she felt bad. Ana folded her arms. "No, it's fine. You didn't do anything wrong. I think men are generally more aggressive than women anyway. It's healthy for men be that way."

He perked up. His hair slid over his shoulder and against his back. "Do you think so? Weren't you uncomfortable?"

Brown eyes narrowing very slightly, fingertips dancing against her own arms, Ana said with a less sweet tone, "Does it matter? I'm not legally entitled to be comfortable all the time. I'm entitled to walk around without being assaulted, but that's not much of a problem. This is one of the safest places in the world."

Mr. Dalca's hands turned to fists and they went to his hips. "How can you say such a thing? Crime is very high in this country, and the amount of crazed mass shooters is shocking."

"Oh, that just depends on where you are. This town, for example, is very relaxing. You should be grateful that your son didn't go to Chicago ... or Baltimore ... or Stockton." Ana blinked at herself and wondered if she should just shut up. Once someone got her going, she could go on and on.

"Where's Stockton located?"

Funny enough, Ana unfolded her arms, clapped her hands together, and literally said with a solemn, dramatic voice, "Commie-fornia."

His head tilted. His black eyelashes flicked. "What's Commie-fornia?"

For a moment, her hand covered her eyes. "Uh ... California."

He laughed then, and the sound nearly made her hop in place. She imagined that when he was a kid and his balls dropped, they went to the floor. Hopefully, they wouldn't be kicked out of the place. "Oh," Mr. Dalca said when he was finally calm again, "that's where Hollywood is. I don't want to go there."

"Well, not all of California's bad," Ana said with her hand close to her heart. "But I still prefer other places." She looked at her cell phone. "I'd love to chat, but it's getting late, and this isn't the best place for me to complain to you about everything that bothers me."

Mr. Dalca's face became slightly less mean. His cheeks pinkened. His smile was warm. His eyes were at ease. "If you have dinner with me, I'll listen to every complaint you have."

Negatively, but also mildly, Ana's hand flipped up and waved a bit. "I'm riled up, and I'd love to pour my feelings out, but I could always go home and talk to a mirror."

He held out his hand, palm up. His fingernails were well groomed but his flesh looked reasonably tough. "If you go home, you won't have a man to buy your food and pretend you're interesting."

An aching snort, a palm flying up to her mouth, wildly amused eyes, and a curling back. Ana wanted to laugh, almost needed it. She squeezed her other hand into her belly. Soon, she was able to take a breath, and she asked, "Will I have to pretend you're interesting too?"

He shook his head. "No, you're a woman. That's not your role. Your role is to be the one who complains and looks beautiful as you do it." His eyebrows wiggled.

Ana almost choked on her own saliva. "No, no. That's a feminist woman's role. I'm an egalitarian."

"If that's a feminist's role, then many of them have failed miserably." That ... stupid ... clever ... annoying ... cheeky ... devilish grin ...

At that moment, Ana didn't know how to categorize the man.

She tried to put her body into a confident posture. "I'm not interested in you, by the way."

"I'm aware of that." There wasn't even a flake of disappointment in him.

"And I'm paying for my food, okay?" Ana started walking. He followed.

"Who am I to deny a woman anything she wants?"

"A reasonable person who knows that womanhood isn't inherently special?" She looked back at him with prepared eyes, waiting to see what absurd comeback he'd throw at her.

"Oh, I'm not reasonable. I'm a bulangiu that will take you out of your watermelons."

He was either calling himself a jerk or a homosexual man, particularly the sort who does the "receiving." Ana assumed he was going with the former. He was also saying that he was the sort who would annoy someone, basically drive one up a wall.

It wasn't very clever, but it did surprise her, which was funny all on its own, or at least she thought it was funny.

The rain was gone when they exited the library. The sky was several colors at once, blue, pink, orange, and purple. Ana noticed that the car Mr. Dalca got into wasn't a red car. It was a dark taupe color. Was it an Aston Martin of some kind?

Oh well. They had a restaurant to hang out at.

When they were seated and waiting on food, Ana unleashed all her spleen, well ... as much as she could without being rude to the other customers. No yelling, no fist shaking, no table punching. Just intense word usage and unfiltered opinions.

He didn't look at his phone.

He didn't say things pointless things like "uh huh" and "sure."

He kept his eyes to hers and occasionally said something like, "I agree," or, "I disagree" or even, "Here's my opinion."

But mostly, he let her say whatever she wanted, vent any spleen she had in her throat.

Everything has an end, however, and her voice was one of those things.

Ana thanked him for his time and put her share of the bill on the table. Then she said goodbye and walked away.

But ... even though she didn't want to be warm ... she felt warm ... and she turned back to look at him, standing for a moment, her fingers tangling with themselves.

He was looking at her too. His smile was tranquil. His eyes were content. It was as if he was the one who had been allowed to vent the spleen.

Everything was so warm, even her ears.

But it was late and she needed to go home.

Ana nodded once and turned away.

***

Morning.

A phone call from Mr. Williamson. She didn't want to answer, but she did anyway.

"Hello?"

"Ana! How are you?"

Ana sat down on her living room couch and sighed. "I'm fine. Thanks. Do you need something?"

"I'm having a birthday party in a week!"

Looking at the tiny ridges in her fingernails, Ana said, "Oh, happy early birthday."

"The party will be at the Fair Orchard. Cake, ice cream, music, the works. Do you want to come? I've already invited your parents."

"I'm not sure. When will you be having the party?" The moment after he told her, Ana immediately said, "I don't think I can come. I'll be pretty busy."

"Oh, really? That's disappointing. Let me know if you change your mind, alright?"

"Okay. Thanks for inviting me, though. Goodbye."

Her thumb tapped the red hang up button. Then she picked up her sketchbook and made a few light strokes with a pencil. Soon, she had a rough image of a woman ready for a ball in early Victorian England.

And her stepmother's phone number soon twinkled at her, coinciding with a ringtone. Ana nearly dropped her phone as she answered it.

"Hi Ana! How are you?!"

"I'm okay. What's up?"

"We just got invited to Henry Williamson's birthday party! Are you coming?" She sounded very excited.

"Well ... no. I don't think I can go."

"Oh, really? But it will be so much fun!"

Damn it, Kennedy!

God damn it!

***

Slowly, her long, silver colored fingernails grazing against the sleeve of Mihai's silk shirt, Jennifer put her hand on his arm and gave him a bleached grin. "I'm so happy you came. I know it's hard to fit in sometimes, especially when you're the new kid in town. I know, I had to move all the way from California, and everyone laughed at my accent, but I've learned how to speak to people. I'm practically a native!" She patted his shoulder as she looked up at the younger man's cordial expression.

"Oh, you think I need to change how I speak?" Mihai's patient eyes and calm smile told Jennifer that he wasn't upset with her.

"Maybe only a little?" She leaned in and put her face rather close to his. She would have lowered her voice, but they were in a loud environment. She wanted him to hear her. "But maybe not. You have a very sexy voice."

His face cooled into something blank. He made a great sniff and brushed her hands off, scooting his chair away from her. "Oh, ohhhh, well that's a nice thing to say, I guess, but I was wondering, why aren't you with the birthday boy?"

What kind of question was that? A bunch of hot stuff was right here and he was asking about her husband?! Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about him. He's probably off boring someone with golf stories."

"I ... I'm sorry to hear that." Mihai clapped his hands together, making something like a praying gesture, then he put his fingertips under his chin and looked away. Suddenly, his groomed yet prominent eyebrows rose, and he waved at someone. "Oh, there's my father! I was wondering where he was. I should go make sure he's okay." He gave her an embarrassed kind of smile. "He can be really awkward."

Jennifer didn't exactly trust that last statement.

He pushed his chair out and stood up. When he started walking, his beautiful long hair glistening under all the lights, Jennifer got up and followed him, saying, "Hey, don't worry about him! He's a tough guy, just like you."

Mihai glanced back at her as he kept walking past all the tables. "Wow, Mrs. Williamson. Now I really want to know where your husband is."

She stopped in her tracks, her mouth agape, her arms akimbo, watching the man leave her without any hesitation.

With a pout, Jennifer wondered if the man was gay. Then she went back to her seat and continued to observe Mihai from a distance. He put an arm around his father's shoulders in a quick hug. Then the two men engaged in a conversation.

And then they stopped, their eyes huge, as they seemed to be staring at someone. Their heads moved to keep their gazes on that someone. Mihai looked surprised and amused, like he had been shown a video of a baby laughing at a puppy. The father looked like someone just trying out veganism who was temped by the juiciest, most delicious serving of steak possible.

It was a pale woman wearing a red dress with long, fitted sleeves and a high puritan collar. The dress' hem was flowing around the woman's knees. Her black hair was in an upswept, messy style. She was walking with a bored gait, looking around and chewing on a cookie.

Oh, that was Ana Davis, that girl who used to go to school with Brook. A weird girl. She was always so quiet and cold.

Those men pursued her, but not before Mihai licked a napkin and wiped his father's cheek with it.

What in the world did they want from her? Her heels were low and she wasn't even wearing any lipstick or eye shadow. It was clear that she wasn't the type to take care of herself as she should. Even her fingernails were dull!

Jennifer put an elbow on a table and gripped her chin.

A sigh ...

Whatever. Someone would be able to keep her from dying of boredom. All she had to do was look hard enough.

***

The sad remains of an expensive cake were on a messy plate on a table in the center of the room. Ana hadn't taken any. Her cookie was sufficient, a thick thing that was just tender enough. Half of it was already gone.

She'd chatted with her parents for a bit. Then she wandered around to look at the birthday decorations. At one point, the birthday boy himself, who had been talking to someone, waved at her, which meant that she had to go over and say hi.

"Are you having a good time?" Mr. Williamson asked as he walked away from his friend.

"Yeah. It's a nice party. The food's good. And happy birthday." Ana put another bit of cookie in her mouth.

As she chewed, Mr. Williamson nodded and said, "I'm glad you're having fun."

A quick swallow, then Ana said, "Thanks, but I think I might leave early."

His face drooped a little. "Oh, really?"

Ana forced down the last remaining chunk of her cookie. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Alo!! How are you?!"

Who was that?

Ana tuned around and saw Mihai Dalca waving and approaching. Why he wanted to be so chummy to her, Ana didn't know. She waved back.

When Mihai was close, Ana said to him, "Hi there."

"Hey, Ana. I heard your parents joined Fair Orchard. Are you joining too?"

Ana reached up to twirl some of her hair in her fingers. "Uhhhhmmmmm ... I don't know. I'm glad my parents are happy, but I'm not sure how I feel about this place. I'm not even that crazy about golf."

Mihai put his fingertips to one of his ears, as if the body part was uncomfortable and he wanted to casually peel it off. His eyes were slightly ... troubled. "Oh, okay." He leaned to one side only a bit and looked at Mr. Williamson. "Happy birthday, Mr. Henry."

"You already said to me that twice." Henry laughed, though.

"Did I? Are you sure that wasn't my father?" Mihai shrugged with closed eyes. Then he opened his eyes and looked at his very, very costly looking watch. "Oh, we should go home." He looked left, then right, and then he turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees. "Uh ... have you seen my dad?"

"I thought he was with you," Ana said, politely scanning the great number of people. "I think I saw him with you a while ago."

"Yeah, I thought he'd be right behind me, really. Would you mind helping me look for him?"

Ana's face flashed cold, then hot, then cold again. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt." She made certain to give the birthday boy a smile. "Well, thanks again for the nice party."

A respectable distance away from Mihai Dalca, Ana walked in the same direction as him and kept looking around. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No. Oh!"

"What is it?"

Mihai pulled a thin, large phone out of a case that was clipped to his pants. It seemed to have gone off, although the noise in the party had swallowed its ringtone whole.

As he stared at his screen, Mihai's eyes turned into alarmed circles. He stopped in his tracks, taking deep breaths. Then he slid his finger on the screen a few times.

"Are you okay?" Ana knew it wasn't any of her business, but worry was still tingling in her heart.

"Hm?" Mihai put his phone away, but his face was still soaked in disquiet. "Oh, it's nothing. My dad texted me. I know where he is. Talk to you later."

He sped down a mysterious path between two tables and through a doorway. Where was he going?

Ana had no business following him.

She stood there, pinching and tugging on her fingers.

Then ... she ran up to him, reaching out, "Hey! Hey, what's wrong?!"

His hair flipped and fanned a bit as he turned his head. His nostrils were flaring. His grimace was bitter. His flesh looked unnaturally orange and yellow, but that was likely because of the lights. "Don't follow me!" That was in very harsh Romanian.

Ana halted. Her shoes clacked against the floor. "Well ... okay. Sorry." She waved at him and turned away. "Have a nice night."

***

This might be profane.

Her legs and hips slung up and over his shoulders.

But she didn't care.

Her duty was to him. She was only following her basic nature.

And he was so happy, which was a rare thing. She was proud of herself for making him smile.

But ... she couldn't even remember what that smile looked like, and whenever she tried to at him, all she could see was a smoky mass of color.

His presence was still extraordinary. He put the most wonderful, wet feelings between her thighs.

Did this really please him? Honestly? Just ... using her like she was a salt lick?

Hey ...

Hey!!

She tried to speak, but she forgot what language she was supposed to use. She even forgot what languages she understood. Shit, language itself seemed foreign.

But just when she thought she might be able to remember something, Ana woke up with a needy, lonely cunt that put wetness in her panties.

***