Perhaps she shouldn’t have let him take her home.
Melinda and Kevin were seated across from each other at the diner. Their plates were strewn with a leftover single fry here (Kevin) and a hamburger bun there (Melinda). “Well, Melinda,” Kevin took her hand, “I’m glad I met you. But I have to be transparent—”
THE GUY AT THE POETRY READING BY ELLEN BLOOMENSTEIN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 65
Kevin thought of himself as a tragic figure in a state of decay. Love and destruction were the topics of the poems he wrote in his spare time. At 35, he liked to believe he would never be married and had once been told by a fortune teller that this was true. He also thought that every girl he took out was ruined to some degree and therefore not worthy of his love in its entirety.
That’s what had happened with Melinda.
Melinda worked for Sculpture Magazine as an administrative assistant which she knew was just a fancy way to say she was a secretary. She had met this guy, Chris, who seemed really interested in her. They had met at a party. He was three years younger, a computer programmer who wrote science fiction poems in his free time. As things turned out, he had been lying to her that he was single, when in fact, he had a girlfriend for eight years—going on nine. Melinda had found this out through a mutual friend, Sandy. And, this had come as quite a shock—although she and Chris weren’t really past surface flirting with each other. They had had lunch and dinner together. Later, she would find out that these were the times his girlfriend was busy.
Melinda was 32 and wrote poetry about pop culture. She had met Kevin at a poetry reading that Chris had told her about, in a small bar on Avenue A. Melinda’s friend, Stella had come along and encouraged Melinda to read some of her poems that evening. Actually, Melinda really didn’t want to read, she had terrible stage fright, but Stella would not take no for an answer and indeed, Melinda did read toward the end of the evening.
Chris had come with his girlfriend—and Melinda took note of her appearance: she was heavy with big bones, but had a pretty face with cascading blond curls. Chris read a science fiction poem about ancient aliens creating the first pyramid which was really a power station for their spacecraft. Kevin also read a poem, and after the reading was over, Kevin invited Melinda and Stella to join him at a table in the back patio of the bar with his father and his father’s girlfriend.
It was a little chilly, so Kevin offered his jacket to Melinda. He draped it over her shoulders. Melinda felt happy that she had this attention so she could forget about Chris.
Stella smoked cigarette after cigarette and Kevin’s father asked, “Aren’t you afraid of lung cancer?”
“Nope,” Stella said and blinked as she blew smoke into the air while twirling her red hair with her free hand.
Kevin said, “You’re really attractive, Melinda.”
Melinda briefly thought about Chris and felt a surge of satisfaction that now she was being shown interest by someone else. She blushed. Her cheeks were flush with pink color which complemented her blue eyes and deep brunette hair. She admired the way that Kevin was dressed in a retro-plaid iridescent jacket with a simple blue T-shirt, dark jeans, and a black beret perched at an angle on his head. Kevin bought vintage clothes at the Salvation Army because this was all he could afford with his salary as a paralegal and with his rent for a single room in a loft in Flatblush, Brooklyn.
Kevin took a swig of his beer and said, “I found it charming that you were so nervous to read tonight.”
“It was my first time,” Melinda said and fixed the collar of her dress. Melinda wore a blue dress with a white Peter Pan collar. She stared down at her short bitten-down fingers.
“I predict,” Kevin took a sip of his beer, “that we will be a pair before winter comes.”
Melinda laughed, the color pinking her cheeks. Stella overhearing turned and looked at Melinda. Stella took a deep drag of her cigarette before crushing it into a nearby ashtray.
“I wonder what time it is.” Stella lit up another cigarette.
Kevin took a glance at his phone and said, “It’s just about one.” He boldly pushed a wisp of hair off Melinda’s forehead.
Melinda looked at him with big, expectant eyes.
“Maybe we should head out of here,” Kevin’s father said and began to help his girlfriend into her beige trench coat.
”You go ahead,” Kevin said to his father, “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, I’ll call in the morning.”
“You did a fine job tonight. I liked that poem tremendously.”
“Wild eyes and wondrous legs, she stares at me and begs, and I crash down on her and sigh—” Kevin imitated himself from when he read earlier.
Stella cleared her throat, “Maybe I should get going too.”
“Oh, I guess I should head out too—” Melinda was visibly disappointed to see the evening coming to an end.
“Yeah, we should get going,” Stella said to Melinda pushing back her chair.
“Wait a minute,” Kevin offered Melinda his phone, “can you put in your number?”
Melinda typed it in and passed the phone back to Kevin.
Kevin said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“That’s great,” Melinda said, the color pinking again on her cheeks.