Free Indomitus Oriens (The Fovean Chronicles) by Robert Brady Page B

watch over her?” he asked Bill said finally.
                  Bill tossed the paper towel, looked at the guy a final time and said, “Look, she’s a nice girl, so if you want to ask her out—”
                  The other man smiled. “I inquire of your interest, not mine.”              Bill walked past him to the door, but the man put a hand on his shoulder. Bill turned and they looked into each other’s eyes. He wanted to look away but couldn’t.
                  “You have no feelings for this girl?” the man asked.
                  “Of course I do,” Bill said. The truth had to be wrung out of him and he didn’t like it. “Who wouldn’t? But I’m not kidding myself. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
                  “All I wanted to know,” the guy said, releasing Bills shoulder. Bill walked out the bathroom door without looking back, so he didn’t see the crowded Men’s room and the two men sharing a laugh over the old guy who walked through the whole place talking to himself.
    * * *
    Uman wives sang a simple song when their husbands left for the bay. Thanks to the Eldadorian Sea Wolves, that had grown a lot more dangerous than it used to be. Glynn sang that now, calling through the vortex for whatever might be lost within.
    It was a song of summoning, a yearning for one close, to draw the heart in closer.
    * * *
    “I’m sorry for that,” Melissa said.
    Bill almost ran her over before he saw her, where she must have been waiting for him at the Men’s room door.
    “No problem,” he said, smiling down at her.
    “This was supposed to show you we’re your friends,” she said. “And now it looks like we were just baiting you.”
    “I never thought that,” Bill lied.
    She looked down, then looked up at him. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asked him, eyes wide and innocent, just like when she’d asked him for Marlboros instead of Luckys that first time she met him.
    Oh, for the love of God, won’t this end? Bill asked himself. This was a pretty girl. This was a girl who should be out dancing and smoking and looking for a nice guy, not some old fart with no future.
    “Yeah, sure,” he heard himself say. “You alright to drive?”
    “No,” she smiled up at him. “You better take me.”
    They were out the door before he realized it, the knowing eyes of the girls and the jealous glares of the boys burning into his back.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought.
    He didn’t kid himself on what she was offering. Her hand felt as fragile as the petals of a flower in his, as she led him to his own car. She looked up at him and her eyes told him she knew where she wanted to go. For her it would be different. For her, it would be love and babies and dressing him up in clothes and taking him to places to show her friends.
    Neither noticed the car they were walking toward glowed brighter than the space around it.
    “What are you thinking?” Melissa asked him, as she planted her butt on his fender, and took both of his hands in hers.
    “Why you want an old fart like me,” he said, honestly.
    “You are not old,” she said.
    He just looked at her. She sounded so sincere. She wanted this, God knows why.
    “Am I older than your parents?” he asked.
    She looked away, and looked back at him. Her eyes were shimmering from the tears she held back. He wanted so badly to hold her, comfort her, tell her something funny to keep her from crying.
    “I don’t really see my parents anymore, Bill. My mother died when I was real young, and my dad never got over it.”
    “Oh,” he had stepped in it. He saw her clearly, saw the sparkle of the light on her sequined top, saw the makeup that highlighted her eyes and her cheeks, and the redness of the lips he wanted to be kissing.
    “That music is nice,” she said, changing the subject.
    He looked around. He didn’t recognize the tune.
    “Is it a full moon tonight?” he