Crowds - Chapter 01

Crowds

The party was finally getting into full swing. I was still playing the part of the hostess, milling around, talking with friends and acquaintances. I was in a small group with Mike and Jewel -dear friends from college, and now a happily married couple-, laughing at the dirty joke Jewel was telling, when I noticed him.

Now, there is a face you rarely see!

He must have been here for a while, as he already had a half-finished glass of whisky in one hand. I excused myself, making my way to Jim.

"Hi there, stranger," I said to him, wondering why I sounded so chipper.

"Hi El," he replied with a gruff voice, without taking his eyes off the scrolls inside the glass display stand. He straightened his back as if collecting himself, then looked at me.

I wondered -again- why he seemed to carry the weight of whole world on his shoulders.

Some things never change... some people?

Was that it? I wasn't sure. I never was when it came to Jim. No, that wasn't it. He wasn't a person who shrank from the world or problems; he just seemed to be... of late... He always had a somber countenance, but he was easy to talk to. You wouldn't call him an extrovert, but neither was he shy, especially when you drew him into a conversation; full of insight with delightful comments. Always the quiet type, his smile was a bit reserved, although it reached his eyes every time he did smile. I knew it was genuine whenever he did that. He had a way of relaxing the people around him. That did not take anything from his appeal, which was surprising considering...

Considering what, Ellie? His intensity? The eyes that almost saw through your soul, or the gentle manner with which he treated all his friends, but especially his women? For a somber person he certainly has many friends. No, somber doesn't describe him. Reserved and quiet does.

The silence drew on, and it was getting uncomfortable when his expression changed into... -What? One of amusement, mirth?- There was an almost imperceptible twinkle in the eyes, questioning.

The ball is in my court!

I don't know what made me say it, when I quipped, "I didn't know you did parties."

Oh, God! Where did that come from? After all these years, he could make me fluster. Why did I always try to come up with a line to shake him up? Was it because he always seemed dependable, an anchor?

"You invited me," he responded. It wasn't offered as an answer, more like a remark -a half-statement left hanging there, a noncommittal observation- as if that explained all.

The ball is back in my court. Again!

True! I had invited him, knowing he would enjoy the party, and the collection of scrolls in the display case, next to my other acquisition; a 300-year-old sword set. I had no interest in weapons. Well, not exactly. I had a passing interest, but the purchase was an afterthought, unlike the haiku scrolls. I had seen a similar set at his house -in the basement that was setup as a dojo- so I knew he would appreciate this collector's item, more than anybody else would.

I was mulling his words in my mind trying to come up with a reply, I almost missed his next words.

"You know I don't care for crowds," he said, letting me off the hook. However, my relief was short lived. "You should know that after all this time, El. I never cared for the crowds."

Yeah, I should have known. I knew it. What did I expect from Jim, the guy who didn't attend the high school prom, or the college graduation party? I always thought it was because he didn't have a date -that's a laugh!- or he was going through one of his broken relationships, and didn't feel comfortable going stag. But, that wasn't Jim. He wouldn't balk at the idea of going together with me and my date. Never considered himself like a third wheel or felt like one. Besides, the memories of the occasions when I was invited into his bed together with his girl friends were never far from my mind. "Especially with Amber," I added mentally. No. He was comfortable with himself and those around him. 'As long as he was among friends,' I corrected myself, 'not with everyone!' And, he was solid...

Still is, particularly in rough weather.

I knew that much about him, but at the same time, I felt I knew so little about him.

"I remember hearing three is never a crowd," I found myself saying reflexively; my mind not back from its stroll in the past... Amber... Jim... us...

Nooo! What am I doing? What am I saying? Did it sound wistful?

I wasn't sure how I sounded, and felt self-conscious.

"There are more than three here," he said, nodding towards the people with an almost amused tone, a small smile fading before it had time to form on his lips. He hesitated, as if weighing in something mentally, and continued in a contemplative mood. "Three, is always a crowd," he stated softly to take the sting out of his words.

So he knew! Damn... Damn... Damn... And that hurt, you son of a bitch! Even if you didn't intend to hurt me, that still hurt! Amber... I... we never had to say the words to you... but all the same; it was a given... a law of nature.

"El," he said, his expression softening, his eyes clouding with... what? I couldn't read it, and it slipped past fast, as if it never was there. "It was," he said then paused.

To reconsider... at a loss for what to say? How to say?

"It was never about you... or Amber. Nobody was at fault. Of all people... Amber... you... no one was at fault, exce..." He took a breath, and said, "I hear you still see Amber. She must have told you."

Yeah. Late Sunday brunches with Amber, talking about the past. So, why did he break up with Amber? They were good. We were good... as a trio... or a duo. On and off, ups and downs, it was always good. Why didn't he call her or me afterwards? Even Amber didn't have the answers.

Before I could respond, he broke in again, abruptly changing the subject. "I like these haikus. In particular, that one," he said, pointing to one of the scrolls with the Japanese ideograms, and a small card beneath the scroll with the translation.

I looked at the card, my eyes going over the neat script, but the words hardly registering:

The next room's light

that too goes out, and now-

the chill of night

Shiki (1867-1902)

I was preoccupied, trying to make some sense of what he was saying... or not saying... We both stood there, the silence dragging on, weighing on heavily. I tried to gather my courage, before asking the question. I didn't want to, but I needed to know. I needed to know!

"Two was... two is... a crowd," I said, faltering -what little courage I had deserting me- and the words coming out as a remark instead of a question. Somehow, I managed to add, "as well?" to the end of it, to turn it around to... a question... an accusation... what? I don't know... I didn't know how it sounded.

To my surprise, he wasn't taken aback, but a tightening around his eyes showed he wasn't expecting that. I wondered what the hell I was thinking -and not for the first time!-

This night isn't going well!

First, he showed up when I thought he would ignore the invitation, as he did so often in the last six months.

And that is strange, come to think of it. He never shied away from his friends, even when there were fights or break-ups... and crowds be damned! So, why is he avoiding his friends? Amber is still a friend. And me? I think so!

Then I chose that stupid opening line about parties, and it was downhill from that moment on.

Think, Ellie. Think! Get a hold of yourself!

He shifted uneasily on his feet, as if trying to distance himself from the moment. His eyes swept around, his gaze settling on the swords; taking in the cradle, and the scabbards with an intense scrutiny, and his eyes clouded again, impenetrable. He set his glass on the small table next to the display stand, and reached to take the shorter of the two. With his left hand on the scabbard close to the blade guard, he pressed with his thumb against it to release the blade with a slight click -about half an inch-. With the other hand on the hilt, he pulled until 4-5 inches of the blade cleared the scabbard.

Inspecting the polished steel and the cutting edge in the reflected light, he said, "I didn't know you collected swords." After a long pause, he asked, with a pensive -almost distant- voice, "Did you know that the Japanese use the wakizashi, this sword, for seppuku? Ritual suicide?"

No I didn't, you bastard! Swords are your area of expertise. It was just an afterthought! Why don't you answer the fucking question?

Were we a crowd, too?

I tried to calm myself down.

This isn't the time to lose control or get hysterical, Ellie! Not when Jim is going through...

What? What the hell is going on with Jim? Never saw him this closed up before. He's usually reserved but this time there's something more.

I could almost feel a visible shield around him that kept expanding and contracting; coming out in waves.

"No, I didn't. It was on an impulse... an afterthought. They complement the haiku scrolls. Anyway, that's what I thought at the time." I replied, sighing with resignation, irritated that he was evading the question.

He mulled it over, before nodding in agreement. "Indeed. They do." He glanced at me with a soft expression, and said, "You always had an instinct... an insight for these things." Then, he carefully slid the blade back into the scabbard, before placing it in its cradle beneath the longer one.

He picked up his glass, slowly jiggling the remains of the whisky and the melting ice cubes, lost in thought. He was lifting the glass to his lips to take a sip, when he stopped half way, as if pricked by electricity. His eyes momentarily unfocused, distant... then he blinked them clear; his posture relaxing as if he had a revelation. He turned to look at me, his eyes clear as the still waters of a pool; taking me fully from head to toe as if memorizing. Finally, his gaze returned to my face, gently caressing me.

"There were times..." he started to say with an uncertain tone, "There were times, when three wasn't a crowd," he said, looking past me.

Is that longing in his eyes? Or is he watching something in distant past?

"And two is..." he paused, reconsidering. "Two was never a crowd," he concluded with a confident tone. "I should know!" His voice becoming stronger, steady. "As you should," he added, giving me a smile -a smile that did reach his eyes this time- that lingered, filling up the moment with warmth, before fading away. For a short spell, I had a fleeting image... an image of a half-moon breaking through the clouds before being swept behind them.

He jiggled the ice cubes in the glass one more time, his eyes returning to the glass to watch the cubes roll around, contemplative. Then stopped playing with the glass, and set it on the table with deliberation -as if that simple act with its decisiveness would stop whatever was running in his mind-.

Turning to me, he reached with his fingertips to caress my eyebrows, moving the loose strands of hair to the side. Taking a step close, he leaned to give a soft lingering kiss on my lips, before pulling me to his chest. His arms wrapped around me, and my body molded to his. Our bodies responding unconsciously as if propelled by... perhaps by muscle-memory... imprinted by an act repeated countless times... Did I care?

I missed you... I miss you... I miss this... You did not miss me?

As I rested my head against his chest, I felt him smell the fragrance of my hair. Giving me soft kisses from top of my head down to my forehead, he said, "Ellie, it's not what you think. It never was." He held me tight for a moment as if to punctuate his meaning, before relaxing his hold.

"Some things... just end," he said with a resigned, almost tired voice. I felt his shoulders sag as he continued, "And some things... start..."

"Somewhere else," he added, too softly to hear, and for a moment I almost imagined I heard the words.

Then what was it? What is it? Tell me. Please... just tell me... or don't! Just... just hold me!

Then he released me from his arms and stepped back -my body reeling from his touch, the memory of it persistent-. Instinctively I crossed my arms -my body already missing the contact it hungered for so long-.

He turned to read the particular haiku scroll, then took another look at the swords. I was drawn to his eyes that took on a strange hue... a glitter... I couldn't help myself but compare them to the embers of a dying coal fire that briefly glow when they catch a gust of wind... the image filling me with unease, chilling me for some unknown reason.

Is there a draught here... somewhere?

Finally, his eyes returned back on me one more time; his back stiffened a fraction as if coming to a decision. "Ellie, it was good to see you, and thank you, for inviting me," he said, before turning to leave.

There it is again. What is that? Distancing himself... pulling inside?

I know I was confused by his mood swings.

Are they mood swings? Come on Jim, what's going on? We're old friends. You never said anything to Amber, and you're not saying anything to me. This isn't you! You were always up front, even during the fights and arguments.

I was still going over the whole conversation and his words in my mind, when he hesitated before taking another step. I didn't know what came over him, as he turned halfway on his heels, his eyes seeking me but catching the scrolls and the swords first, his attention briefly held by them. I saw his lips tighten for a moment, and his jaws clench for a split second as if recalling a painful memory, before he made a conscious effort to relax them taking a deep breath. Finally, he looked at me, his eyes dark pools, intense, as he tried to soften his expression, letting his breath out slowly.

"I never admitted it to anyone. But, sometimes, Ellie," he said. Then barely above a whisper, he added, "sometimes, one is a crowd."

He turned, and quickly walked away.

End(?)

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To be continued...