She found herself getting angry that she could never drink anything alcoholic again. It didn’t seem fair that she could never again have the common calming effect of the colorless liquid. Vodka had been her ‘drug of choice.’ But she reminded herself that she couldn’t drink in a common way. No, she had to swig the stuff till she was blasted comatose.
One would never be enough for her. When it came to the juice she didn’t care about anything except the lovely feeling that sent her to blessed oblivion. Where she wished she were now.
One small sip and she could forget the ghastly bug and relax and go to sleep. Oh well, honestly, to forget that thing would take a whole bottle.
Michelle knew she was irrationally phobic and foolish to be repulsed by tiny and mostly innocuous insects, but the creepy, awkward, jerky way they moved and their alien multi-lensed eyes sent shivers down her spine. It was silly. She was almost six feet tall and she shouldn’t be scared of bugs. But it was a convenient reason to drink. Scared me to death. Couldn’t help it. Had to calm down somehow.
Michelle tried to think of the thing as pathetic. The way it had scuttled away from her. It was probably more scared than she was. After all, she had killed it. Hadn’t she? Or was it searching for her right now, to bite or sting? Creeping sneakily under the closed bedroom door, slithering down the hallway into the living room to get her. Growing more and more angry that she had almost asphyxiated it. A vengeful bug with murderous intent.
She giggled at her own morbid imagination. It was alive and ticking. Hopefully, the bug was dead.
She nestled her shoulders against the back of the couch and reached back, pulling off the tie that held her hair back. She needed its warmth around her neck tonight.
As she was drifting to sleep the blackness of the beast brought memories of the most handsome man she had ever seen. His eyes had been black.
* * *
There he was again. Michelle noticed him immediately the next morning as she walked out the front door of her condominium. It was the man she had been thinking about as she fell asleep.
Michelle motioned to the valet stationed in front of her condominium that she needed her car. She glanced at the man again as she waited. He was across the street, standing in the light rain beside a small black car. She felt her heart do a little flop, then a lurch, like there was a fast extra beat. Even with the rain plastering his wavy black hair and dripping down his face, he was extraordinary. She tried to glance at him quickly, sideways, so he wouldn’t notice, and wondered what it would be like to be so gorgeous and a male. He must be used to being watched. Still, it would be disconcerting.
Beautiful is not a word commonly associated with men, but he had a vivid artistic face. One could imagine him a ballet dancer, a painter, or maybe a poet or musician with the wide forehead, thin nose and high cheekbones. His eyes were long and slanted, almost Oriental in his Occidental face, which made it unforgettable. The eyes were so large and dark they appeared luminous, and a little frightening.
The man turned away from his car and his eyes seemed to reach right through her, as if he were looking at her and beyond at the same time. She felt like moving forward, almost as if she were hypnotized. It was the rain making her shiver, she told herself harshly, not the sultry black eyes, which she tore her own away from. The notion was a little absurd that his attraction was pulling her toward him, against her own volition and even her own consciousness. She noticed she had moved forward a few minuscule steps.
Even more absurd was the fact that she thought he had been following her yesterday. She had been walking downtown, on her way to lunch, when she spotted him ahead of her, looking in the window of a clothing store. The man had such presence she stopped dead. There was a strange feeling that she knew him. Before she could search her memory, he was looking directly at her.
She had turned abruptly away, feeling foolish, afraid he had noticed her staring, but there was still that odd feeling that she remembered him. It was irrational, she told herself, because he really was unforgettable.
Later that same day she had seen him again, driving his car, a Porsche, right next to her in downtown Honolulu. Then later that evening he had suddenly been beside her as she went into the front door of her own condominium.
That’s what made her think he was following her. He was politely holding the heavy glass door and smiling. The ironical smile made her believe he had noticed her earlier that day on the street, gawking like a lovesick adolescent.
When she had glanced up into his eyes, she saw absolutely no color, only blackness. Or maybe his eyes were comprised entirely of pupils. She had felt the hairs on her arms rise suddenly. It was like looking into an empty abyss, or the night sky without stars. She thought she might sink into those eyes and cease to exist, as if he were some strange hypnotist who could compel her into unknown realms. It was a little terrifying and quite thrilling.
She put it down to the fact that she hadn’t had a relationship in years. She had smiled briefly at the attractive face looking down at her and murmured thanks for his help with the door. She thought fleetingly that maybe he was part Japanese or Chinese with
