Tales of the City Part IV:

Jasmine

by Valerie Markva

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Maybe it was because it was going to rain and the way the clouds gathered

in the sky that day late in May, falling into step with Eben, on our way to

the Electric Blue.  It was last week that he had fallen into the mood.

Constantly on edge, as if wanting to speak but unable to find the right

words. It was unlike him to be anxious, except when something was out of

order.

The tone in his voice when he asked me to come to Jasmine's show had

quickly changed from calm into a state of rising urgency after I made it

clear to him that I'd rather not go. It surprised me when he began to beg

me to go with him.

He walked on in silence, occasionally clearing his throat. I looked at him,

expecting him to say something, but he seemed frozen in a state of

hesitation. It was awkward walking beside him, down the street in silence.

The only sounds were the passing cars and sirens screaming down Main Street.

Perhaps it was my own mood that made his seem so overwhelming to me. The

cloudy sky, the low distant rumble of thunder above me, and the solid

ground beneath my feet were like lives. Somewhere in between earth & sky

was me, porous & without substance, so that anyone could pass through me

and I would find myself acutely aware of their presence.  This was the

distraction that I needed to keep my thoughts from myself, my own life.

Wishing Eben was in a lighter mood, selfishly wanting him to laugh, so that

I could, I began to wonder what was wrong with him.

It began to rain and we ran for cover inside the Laundromat. He continued

to brood in the corner, playing a video game. The sound of the washing &

drying was hypnotically comforting, conjuring that sense of something

whispered, breath gently grazing the back of my neck. Entranced, I sat

watching a load of clothes spin. Nearby a lady with a red face and pink

rollers in her hair glared at me. She resembled a bulldog and I wished she

would stop staring at me. I wanted to shout at her for breaking my sweet

trance, but instead walked away to the window and watched the rain, the

digital sound of Eben's video game in tune with the raindrops.

I wondered if it was Jasmine that brought the lines of worry to his face,

the deep concentrated furrow in his brow and tension to his tone. His

silence was an irritant. It would be easier for me to understand him if he

would only talk, tell me what he was thinking. Knowing he wouldn't, I began

to feel oddly drawn into his curiosity.  It then occurred to me that this

why he wanted to drag me to her show - there was a reason, something he

could not tell me, but wanted me to understand about her, about them.

It was a slow & dreadful wait, standing by the window in the laundry mat.

The stage was dark and there came a low distinct noise, like an

echo of the thunder outside. Jasmine's audience pressed forward yearning to

see, to hear, to touch.

A piercing sound, a screaming guitar in the darkness, and a drum began to

beat softly, growing louder, closer like her footsteps as she drew near out

of the darkness and into the stagelight.

The Electric Blue  seemed to open like an enormous mouth and vibrate with

music. Iridescent lights flashed from above the stage, blinking at the

strange crowd gathering there. Lonely men, the ones you imagine in a place

like this; and shudder at the thought of their vulture-like eyes feasting

upon your body. Waitresses wearing leather g-strings, college kids in polo

shirts and some girls like myself, glancing about, wondering how they

managed to find themselves at a strip club on a Saturday night.

We were at a disadvantage, sitting on the side making it hard to see her

face. There was something about her, though, familiar to me that I couldn't

place. She wore a sequin thong bikini and when she moved the parts of her

body covered by it looked like patches of a tiny mirror ball. The throng of

eager males began to surge toward her, and wild with excitement they

shouted and waved dollar bills at her.

Like her dance the music was sensual, slowing down to unravel as she, now

topless, began to take off her thong. She moved closer to the crowd,

pushing herself into their faces, her hips rocking back & forth, making

love to the air around her.

Had it been another girl, someone we didn't know, I wouldn't have begun to

feel uncomfortable. I couldn't help thinking that this is Eben's

girlfriend. It was strange to meet her like this. Trying to look away, my

eyes kept returning to the stage with its glittering lights and its

princess who was slithering like a snake around a silver pole.

It was impossible to read Eben's face, his blank expression gave no clue to

what he was thinking. In my imagination he was angry, trying to tame the

urge to rush to the stage and conceal her from everyone's view. Why then

had he wanted me to come? It must be that he was thrilled by her crowd,

excited and attracted by her boldness and beauty. That she had chosen to be

with him made Eben feel special. Let the others stare or idolize her with

that sickening glazed look in their vacant eyes, none of that mattered

because she belonged to him.

What was this belonging? Surely not possession in his mind? How much would

she share of herself with her audience and what was left for him alone?

Eben would accept her for who she was, I felt certain. It was not like him

to want to change another person, or take something away form them.

There came a deafening silence when the music stopped. In that moment her

spell was broken. Eben stared at me, smoking a cigarette, and then he

crushed it out into the ashtray. Murmuring to tell the tale of his secret

anxiety, as quickly as the moment came it was lost. The lines of worry on

his face were moved to the lines of a smile that pushed and broke free from

the corners of his mouth.

"She turned you on, didn't she?" Eben laughed, kicking me under the table.

"You know you want her, I can tell."

I rolled my eyes, but was secretly glad he stopped brooding. "Oh yeah," I

said. "You caught me." He tapped his ring on the table, looked around

impatiently, then laughed again in his familiar way. "You see what happens

when I hang out with you?" I said. "I'll never be the same again."

"She'll be out in a minute. Tell me what you think, seriously." The lines

of laughter disappeared, his face strained, the muscles of his jaw relaxed

then tightening like a living frustration beneath his skin.

"It was hard to tell..let me actually meet her first," I said. Then she

stepped out from the shadows behind him. She wasn't looking at me, and I

had the chance to conceal my surprise - that face. Putting her hands in

front of Eben's eyes she whispered, "Boo!, lightly caressing his cheek with

her nose.

I'll never forget her expression when she looked at me. It expressed a

thousand secret fears, a brief moment of little demons let loose all alone

on her pretty face. It vanished in seconds and her startled eyes began to

twinkle in warm recognition.

"Lex Trier! I thought you fell off the face of the earth or something. I

can't believe it!" Her raspy voice was still the same, confident, low,

always controlled by a force greater than herself. Whatever she wanted to

hide would be exposed because I said her name-her real name.

"Jennifer, " I remarked, looking at Eben, quickly wishing I hadn't dared

utter the syllables. Twisted satisfaction on her face, she crossed her legs

as she sat on his lap and draped her arm loosely around his shoulders. The

muscles in his neck & face contracted, repeating me, looking at her.

"Jennifer? Why did she call you that?"

Next time: The Plot Thickens

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