Like A Feather

She was always at the phone booth at precisely twelve-fifteen sharp. She intrigued me with her cropped burgundy hair and the single feather earring that dangled to her collarbone. She wasn’t conventionally beautiful; her eyes were a little too wide-set for her narrow face, her choice of clothing eccentric �" the patterns never matched �" but she drew me in. Every day I found myself wonder to the café across the street in between classes to study her. The coffee was horrible, the pastries stale, and the old man who worked there had foul breath. I really had no reason to return but to satisfy my fascination of this woman.

As I sat sipping my overly strong latte, though I’d poured half out to allow room for cream and sugar, I glanced around at the few people who were my company. A fellow student who I’d seen around campus, gnawing on the eraser of a pencil while thumbing through a worn paperback. A younger couple gazing into each others’ eyes while she giggled incessantly as if he were Dane Cook. An older woman staring blankly out the window while she twirled her stirrer absentmindedly in her paper cup. I glanced at my watch and tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for twelve-fifteen to roll around. Five more minutes.

I had tried countless times to figure out my fascination with this woman. I wasn’t attracted to her sexually, because as far as I knew I was into guys. I wasn’t mentally unstable, also as far as I knew. It was simply something about her that I yearned to know more about. I wanted to know who she was, why she always used that particular phone booth, where did she come from, what was her name…

I guess it had something to do with the fact that I had always been an observer. I lived much of my life through my visions of other people, though I had never taken to someone so heavily as this woman.

Twelve-fifteen. I shifted in my seat as I waited for her arrival. I casually tapped on my laptop, not really paying attention to what I was doing �" I just didn’t want the old man to notice my strange habit. He had taken recognition of me, and would have my usual latte prepared by the time I arrived each morning. He attempted small talk, but I typically avoided it. I wasn’t one for small talk.

Today she wore a long, navy blue pea-coat over ivory leggings and short ankle boots. Her thick framed glasses hid her large eyes, and her hair was sticking out in all directions with the side in which her feather earring dangled being pinned back. That caught my attention �" what was the significance of the feather and why did she make a point of always having it show? She put two coins into the slot and brought the phone to her ear. Not missing a beat, she dialed a number and yawned at the sun as she waited for someone to answer.

 

“Excuse me,” a voice startled me from behind, “your name is Jessa, right?”

 

Though I was caught off guard, I turned to face my appraiser.

 

“Yes,” it was the guy from my school, “how did you know my name?”

 

His cheeks flushed. “We had class together last semester,” he stammered, “Human Sexuality with Hawkins”.

 

I thought back to the forsaken class. Ms. Hawkins preferred to play DVDs rather than teach, she seemed more embarrassed by the topic than a middle school student would be. I scanned my brain for any memory of this guy. Dark hair and eyes, lanky, tall, long nose.

 

“I’m sorry,” I began hesitantly, “I don’t remember your name… I hardly paid any attention in that class”.

 

“Oh neither did I,” he seemed to brighten at the thought of my partially remembering him, “so what brings you to the infamous Joe’s Café?”

 

At this point I was getting agitated. I didn’t know this guy, didn’t care to know this guy, and here he was interrupting my routine.

 

“I like the coffee”

 

His face broke into a wide grin. “Oh yeah? I don’t think I’ve ever talked to someone who honestly enjoys this dump”

 

“So why are you here then,” now he was really bothering me, “if the coffee is so horrible, why are you drinking it?”

 

His face turned a deep red this time. “I actually come here sometimes because I know you do,” he started timidly, “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself for a while”

 

This took me by surprise. This guy, in a sense, had been doing the same thing that I had been doing for the past three weeks?

 

“You haven’t told me your name yet,” what would it hurt to appease him for a minute.

 

“Alex,” he smiled brightly.

 

“Nice to meet you, Alex” I grinned back. This guy wasn’t so bad. His smile was lopsided, but sexy in a Robert Pattinson kind of way. His hair was mussed as if he had just rolled out of bed, and behind his ear I saw a small nautical star tattoo peeking out.

 

I glanced back out the window as I was reminded of my reason for being here. Of course she was gone, she only ever stayed on the phone for a few minutes. I let out a sigh of exasperation; I would have to wait until tomorrow to continue my fixation.

 

“Well Alex, I need to return to class,” I shut my laptop and slid it into my messenger bag, “Human Biology at twelve-forty-five, oh the excitement”.

 

“Alright Jessa, nice to finally meet you. I’m sure I will see you around,” he gave me his lopsided grin again. My heart sped up a notch and I felt myself begin to sweat a little.

 

“You too,” my sympathetic nervous system betrayed me, and now it was my turn to blush, “see you later”. At least biology had taught me that much.

 

            Ever since my grandma had been put into the hospital, I had cut myself off from reality. My world was stripped to the bare minimum of life’s essentials. I went to school and did all my homework meticulously. The housework had become my duty as well because when my mom wasn’t at work or visiting my grandma, she was in her room getting loaded off Vicodin. Talking to Alex was the first conversation I’d had, and paid attention to, in months. Having my grandma taken away from me had me so dislocated I had lost myself.

            As I stepped out into the chilly November air, I noticed the woman walking towards me. Flustered, I turned to the opposite direction of campus. Had she seen me staring at her through the window and wanted to confront me? Ask me why I had been stalking her from across the street for three weeks? I wasn’t good with confrontation, and how could I respond when even I didn’t know the answer.

 

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice trilled behind me, “Miss? Do you have a moment?”

 

Her voice was accented, light and beautiful. I turned slowly, “Yes?” I asked tentatively.

 

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she replied earnestly, “but could you tell me where I can find a decent used bookstore around here?” she shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other, “I’ve just moved here, you see, and I can’t seem to find one”

 

I pondered the question a moment. I noticed her eyes were each a different color, one hazel and one blue. Her lips were painted bright red, something I never could have pulled off, and as the wind blew the feather earring grazed her cheek.

 

“Actually I do,” I decided now was not the time to be obscure. This was the woman I had been so curious to learn about, and this was an opportunity presenting itself. “I could show you if you’d like, I’m bad with directions”.

 

“Oh! I would greatly appreciate it,” she said with a wide, friendly smile, “my name is Jezebal, by the way,” she extended a slender hand, cluttered with beautiful rings.

 

“I’m Jessa,” I took her hand, “So nice to finally meet you”

 

The moment it came out of my mouth I wished I could take it back. So nice to finally meet you? If she hadn’t thought I was a total creep before, she definitely would now.

 

“Finally?” she asked curiously.

 

“Oh well, I just meant…” I trailed off slowly, “it’s just that I go to Joe’s Café everyday between classes,” she looked at me, her curiosity building, “and I’ve noticed that you are at the phone booth at around the same time everyday”. Well, there it was. She could take it as she willed.

 

To my utter surprise, once again, all she did was let out a hearty laugh. “You’ve noticed me? Well there’s something I’m not entirely used to.”

 

I thought about her response and realized how strange it was. Jezebal was so interesting; beautiful, eccentric, intelligent. I looked down at my own plain jeans and coat and wished I’d at least put on some mascara. Surely she was used to people staring at her, if not just to catch a second glance at how unique she was.

 

“Where are you from?” I asked to break the silence, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“Originally I am from Russia, but I moved to America when I was nine,” she smiled at a little boy who stood gaping at her with a popsicle lolling in his mouth, “and now I have just moved here from New York”.

 

“Wow, New York? I’ve always wanted to go…” she was so worldly, so unlike myself.

 

“Maybe you will one day,” she replied lightly.

 

“Yeah maybe,” though I highly doubted it.

 

We rounded the corner and I saw my favorite bookstore creeping up on us. I glanced at my watch to see that one o’clock was approaching; oh well, one day without Human Bio wouldn’t kill me.

 

“This is it,” I spread my arms to signify we had arrived, “Firefly Books.”

 

“Thank you so much Jessa,” she surprised me by reaching down to kiss me lightly on both cheeks.

 

Before I could control myself, I blurted out the question that had been gnawing at me all day.

 

“What is it that you needed to use the phone for everyday?”

 

She eyed me closely, a smile spread across her face once again. “I’ve been making,” she paused, “arrangements.”

 

I thought about her response, realizing it wasn’t my place to pursue the matter further.

 

“It was nice to meet you Jezebal, I hope you find what you are looking for.”

 

“You too, have a good life,” she started towards the door, “And make sure when you go to New York to pay a visit to Bergdorf’s, tell them Jezebal sent you”. With that she let herself into the bookstore, not looking back.

            I thought about the last thing she had said; have a good life? That clearly meant she had no intentions of continuing a friendship. Continuing? C’mon, we had hardly spent 10 minutes together. I let out a long sigh as I walked back towards campus. Maybe I could catch the tail end of learning about the endocrine system.

 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

 

            My alarm belted out obnoxiously as I slammed my hand on the snooze button. I pulled myself up groggily and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I reached for the remote to turn the news on, part of my morning routine in attempt to satisfy my Government teachers’ desire for us to “be involved with the world”. She always quizzed us on the most random issues, so it never hurt to be prepared.

            I’d slept horribly that night. I had a dream of Jezebal; she was dancing and laughing in a beautiful dress, surrounded by hundreds of faceless friends. All of them were smiling and staring at her with admiration. I stood in the very back, tears filling my eyes as I watched how carefree she was. When I awoke during the night, misted with sweat, I understood why I was so intrigued by her. My envy for her went beyond her beauty; I simply wished to escape my own life into a fantasy world and she was the leading lady.

            I faced my closet searching for something to wear, something that wasn’t so boring and Jessa-like. Not because I thought I’d be running into Jezebal, but because it was time for change; time for me to move on with my life. I pulled out a cropped jacket and paired it with one of my many band t-shirts. As I shimmied into my skinny jeans, I looked out the window. A single feather had drifted to the sill, one that matched Jezebal’s earring perfectly. I reached for it hesitantly, fingering the softness of it on my palm.

 

“A Russian drug dealer whose remains were found near Washington State’s campus had fled her native country to avoid imprisonment and to escape gang members who held her responsible for revealing information that led to the discovery of their drugs factory. Police say she was murdered late last night as she was returning from a visit to a nearby used bookstore…”

 

My face fell and my heart stopped as I sat frozen in front of the television. It couldn’t be Jezebal, it just couldn’t.

 

“The body has been identified as Jezebal Petrov. It is unknown whether she has any nearby relatives. The police are working on finding her assailant.”

 

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I traced the feather lightly across my arm.