Short Story : In One Moment [Page 8]

SHORT STORY : IN ONE MOMENT [Page 8] by Tobin Cheung

Since the invention of cell phones everyone is always in contact but no one is actually together.

Realizing that I am alone, I plop myself down by creating space between strangers set aside for personal comfort. The girl to my right is expecting. She’s indifferent to my presence, used to having her space infringed. She’s a mommy and about to give birth to her third baby, I can tell. Mommies can be distinguished from Mothers. Mommies have a certain appearance that set them apart. They are open, easygoing and can express the joys and laughter that only a child is thought able to show. A Mother, on the other hand, usually has one child. This particular evening, the Mommy seated next to me, is having a girl’s night out, a break from the duties of motherhood and wife. Her single friends, having missed her, are happy to be in her company.

The girl seated to my left is in her prime. She has a mid-twenties prettiness, a post-graduate education and an ego to match. With a drive that worships capitalism and a claim to serve humanity, she is complicated. I made the mistake of giving her a smile before I sat down, forgetting that I was alone. I got no response. She automatically assumes that I purposely squeezed beside her and am about to make an absolute nuisance of myself. Her body language is immediately on the defensive, the clutch of the purse, the crossing of the legs, and the not-so-slight tilt of the shoulder as she sways towards her girlfriends. Her voice becomes noticeably louder. She begins laughing more frequently, displaying her sassiness with witty anecdotes. I’m way too much for you to handle is what she’s saying. I agree completely. Her good looks are easily achieved at her age and require very little refinement. And so, she believes herself to be a low maintenance carefree gal. Don’t get me wrong, it is fabulous to be in the company of such women, so long as you don’t expect them to stick around for very long. There are simply too many men promising them everything under the sun.

“Do you know when the band comes on?” I ask, attempting to strike up a conversation with the Mommy to alleviate the tension building between the girl and me.

“They should start in five minutes but don’t hold your breath, they never set up on time. It’s all part of the master plan,” she taunts. “The longer you wait the better they sound.”

I watch her make a comical smile and raise an eyebrow as if to say that it’s all in good fun. Attitude free, she is open to some friendly banter.

“Isn’t this the perfect night for an open air concert? With the city as a backdrop and the lake behind us, it’s like we’re at a Gatsby’s party.”

She laughs.

“Oh definitely, it is the most perfect warm summer evening for live jazz. I just wish I could toast it with a glass of wine,” she says patting her little protruding belly.

 “…..and we would like to thank everyone for coming out to enjoy an evening of music. Jazz is an evolutionary style of composing, incorporating blues, rock, flamenco and many other genres into its compositions. It is music for everyone. Please welcome tonight’s first band, Azzuries.”

As if on cue, the sun dips below the horizon and the sky glows a final red and orange. If we are lucky, the moon will shine through and become a spotlight for the stage. City lights begin to come on, little sparkles here and there acting as man-made stars. Behind us, the rumble of a cigarette boat idles by bringing with it a sample of the snappy lake air.

[To be continued...]