2 of 226

Write now Article Tools

I saw Martie that weekend, as promised. Weekends are the busiest time for a comic, so I told her that if she could find her way into town, I'd meet her after my show, which was an early one. "Dinner and a movie sound OK?" I asked, and she agreed. Sure, sounded fine.

She was waiting in the front bar when I emerged, a little later than planned. She was drinking soda with a twist, I believe. She had her back to me and didn't see me come out, and I touched her lightly on the arm.

She turned her face to me, already smiling. I was impressed by this knowledge that it was me, even though I still can't say exactly why I was so impressed. Perhaps it was no more than surprise, again a dormant adolescent emotion, the breathless wonder that you should be so wanted by someone. I don't mean that word in a sexual or biological sense not by a long way but simply in the catching-a-vision-from-a-dista nce or the looking-through-the-yearbook sense. Have we all felt it? Of course there's no point denying it.

Dinner and a movie became just dinner. Sometimes it's like that, just a moment that grows into something longer and stronger. The conversation didn't lull even for a moment, and it felt so comfortable, so good that neither of us wanted it to end. Corny, perhaps, but there it is, life making all those cliches solidify into reality. The spell was real, would not bear breaking for fear that it would never be reclaimed. So we stayed at the Indian restaurant, had dessert, coffee, the whole shebang, nodded at the tight-smiled waiter holding the door open as we left, heard him lock the door behind us.

And there we were in the silent street, the city glowing across the freezing harbour, the smells of korma and pappadums and hot ghee tickling our shoulders. "I can walk from here," I said. "We can just grab the next cab for you if you want."

"Sure," she replied, arranging her scarf. "That's fine."

"If I had a car I'd drive you home," I said.

"I believe you."

We saw a cab approaching, nosing down the slope from Blues Point Road, and I stepped towards the kerb.

Martie placed a hand on my arm and held me back, stopped me from hailing. The driver slowed, and I realised the situation and shook my head. He accelerated away up the hill towards the bridge.

I turned to her. "What?"

"I'm not ready to go home yet. We should sit. I like to sit."

"Sure, I like to sit too."

"Good. Then we should."

We walked along the street a short way, then down to the tiny half-moon park which overlooks Lavender Bay. It was a

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Novel excerpts: Romance?
We want to hear your view. Write now!