She sits cross-legged, and there's a smoke dangling from her fingers. And she smells of rose petals maybe, but the scent is nice. The tobacco and such don't leave any trails behind on her, no yellowing fingers and her scent is the same all the day, never littered with such a foul smell. The smell of the the burning paper and the wafting smoke is lifted upwards, but never to her. And it was good that way because she's perfect in those ways. Her lips always painted in a shade of red and her eyes never lacking any perfection, always dressed up in mascara and dark eyeliner. Besides all of that, she never wore any makeup, and he believed that in her opinion, she didn't need any. If she didn't look beautiful naturally, she wouldn't achieve it with makeup. And that's what she felt. She felt she was ugly and warped, though he thought she was..perfect. Perfect not in the sense of as beautiful as a person could get, because she was not quite beautiful, no, but in a sense of the way her face was oddly shaped, like the moon, and her voice was smooth. She was perfect. Her appearance was never shattered, not a tear, or a rip. Every button in place and everything in perfect alignment. Her eyes always smoldering and always as grey as the sky. She never says 'hello' or 'goodbye'. She thinks folkways are overrated and she finds herself indulging in her own self pity and cigarettes all day long.
And who's to say that she was certifiably crazy the way she behaved? Sure as hell wouldn't be him. J.C. had anticipated this, yes, he had sensed that she wouldn't give him a straight out answer. She wasn't that type. She'd wait for a moment in time and give you a look or mutter something under her breath. Shooting it at the target wasn't her style and J.C. had no objections to that. So he watched her play with her smokes, letting the ash drip off almost as heavy as thawed butter. He believed that she had a nicer time watching it all burn than obliterating the whole thing with her lips. For a long time she sat there, cross legged still, never moving an inch, except to reach for another one of her cigarettes. For awhile they sat there, in utter silece when she broke it. For the first time, she had broken the silence. "Perhaps it's time to look into Crevillente." With that, she had left. She had stood up and stalked off, leaving her trails of ash as she walked away. Crevillente. Crevillente. He sat there for awhile contemplating his thoughts, contemplating Crevillente when he realized he hadn't the faintest idea what Crevillente was. He too stood up and went home, wherever home was, and took a sip of Jack Daniels and sat down. Crevillente. Crevillente was a tiny city inside Spain. She told him later that Crevillente was a city of passion and it was where you went if you wanted to run off the face of the earth. And most importantly, it wasn't here. It wasn't this. She had made it seem like this was her personal hellhole. And he asked her with a slight, questioning tone, Bella, aren't you happy here? And all she could say was, Don't call me Bella. And just like that, she had disposed of her cigarette and let the depths of the night envelop her as she walked calmly down the same old streets. He had notions in his mind that perhaps that was where she was headed, Crevillente. She had never talked about places, not even this. She never talked about her stay here and somehow he had imagined it to be temporary, but she was here for awhile now. And now, she had discovered Crevillente, her own city of passion, and he had expected her to flee. And he had expected himself to also. But yet, he had stood faithfully the next day on the concrete steps and there she was, walking down the street, smoking, and keeping her steps paced. And it was his mistake when he first spoke. "What about Crevillente?" She never answered, just blew out small puffs of whites and greys. Crevillente was merely an escape. And if she wanted to escape, he had guessed that perhaps that was where she would be. But he was guessing now that she liked this place. He just couldn't figure out why. |