They tipped their chins upward when they exhaled chestfuls of smoke, in a way that had come, I noted - within this particular culture - to lend an aura of remoteness and profound, carefree submission to wandering thought. The faraway expressions on their faces produced the same effect. The couple’s mannerisms in this moment were remarkably in sync.
Apparently, the women were cold. It was getting to be evening and the night was chilly, and, unlike the chattering friends to their left, the women, with little movement or exaggerated social engagement to warm them, felt the chill of the afternoon, but this was only apparent in their unnecessary physical proximity. Ben adjusted his body so that his friends occupied one half of his field of vision and Twinka and Rachel the other. He watched them, and I imagined that he was thinking about what the nature of his greeting to her would be. When would it occur, in what way, and what would happen after? He seemed satisfied with her, content to watch her there, pleased, almost, with what might have been called “what was his.” It seemed sure that he enjoyed, in an understated way, watching her there. He took a long drag on his cigarette, as if he had decided that after one more drag, he would say hello. He exhaled and moved purposefully to her side. He sat, extending his arm around her waist and moving in close to her without a word. He might have kissed her neck, or maybe not. It doesn’t matter – he could’ve kissed her neck and it would have been perfectly ordinary for the moment. I walked toward them all, bravely - I thought - as the prospect of The Greeting produced an undeniable sensation of dread in me, for no particularly rational reason.
“Hi, everyone.”
All eyes were on me, and this was exactly what I had not wanted. I towered over them and they examined me.
“Hi, Ellie. Where’ve you been?” One spoke for all.
“We missed you!” This worked well as the second comment directed at me. Since the first was mildly accusatory, this exclamation softened their collective mood toward me.
Apparently, the women were cold. It was getting to be evening and the night was chilly, and, unlike the chattering friends to their left, the women, with little movement or exaggerated social engagement to warm them, felt the chill of the afternoon, but this was only apparent in their unnecessary physical proximity. Ben adjusted his body so that his friends occupied one half of his field of vision and Twinka and Rachel the other. He watched them, and I imagined that he was thinking about what the nature of his greeting to her would be. When would it occur, in what way, and what would happen after? He seemed satisfied with her, content to watch her there, pleased, almost, with what might have been called “what was his.” It seemed sure that he enjoyed, in an understated way, watching her there. He took a long drag on his cigarette, as if he had decided that after one more drag, he would say hello. He exhaled and moved purposefully to her side. He sat, extending his arm around her waist and moving in close to her without a word. He might have kissed her neck, or maybe not. It doesn’t matter – he could’ve kissed her neck and it would have been perfectly ordinary for the moment. I walked toward them all, bravely - I thought - as the prospect of The Greeting produced an undeniable sensation of dread in me, for no particularly rational reason.
“Hi, everyone.”
All eyes were on me, and this was exactly what I had not wanted. I towered over them and they examined me.
“Hi, Ellie. Where’ve you been?” One spoke for all.
“We missed you!” This worked well as the second comment directed at me. Since the first was mildly accusatory, this exclamation softened their collective mood toward me.
