The first thing that struck me was
his eyes. They were a deep brown, like
well-rubbed wood. They were guarded, yet
intrusive; introverted, yet fierce and somehow protective.
He didn't look like the average mall
security guard to me.
I meandered through the Natural
Sciences section of my favorite Books-a-Million and peered over the shelves at
him.
He sauntered to the end of
Books-a-Million’s door, turned, and sauntered back across the opening. His eyes searched up the north corridor. He turned again, pacing the width of the
doorway. He searched down the south
corridor. He flexed his fingers and
rolled his shoulders. Then he looked
straight at me and caught me looking at him.
He looked startled, like he'd been caught being naughty. I sometimes have that effect on people, being
a teacher, so I smiled reassuringly at him.
He looked positively shocked.
Then I knocked over the entire
section of Rachel Carson's books, and the mall security guard with the eyes
that could melt steel disappeared from my life forever.
Or so I thought . . .
I tried to remember the fullness of
his lips, the strong angular nose, the rounded chin that softened the steel
marble jaw. I guessed he was six foot
three, maybe four. His eyebrows were so
solemn. But my mind kept returning to
his fingers. There were long and
tenuously slender. They were immaculate with pearl-like nails, cut straight
across the top.
The clerks knew me well, and helped
me return the books to the shelf. Jeff,
who was completing his seventh year at the local community college and worked here
on Wednesdays, jovially reminded me of all the other shelves and collections
I'd knocked over in the last few years.
Customers gathered around us to listen and join in the laughter.
When I told my best friend Christie
about him, she asked me if I was ovulating.
My mother, who lives in New Mexico
But my possum Rush listened and
growled at the appropriate times.
Burdines was having a sale Thursday. Not that I had any money to spend, or needed
anything in particular . . . They do have a nice petite section, and my size
twelve body - at five foot two -- enjoyed trying on lovely things that I have
no place to wear.
I found the most stunning emerald
green silk dress, smothered in sequins.
Not that I would ever have the courage to wear it -- I tried it on.
As I gazed into the three-sided
mirror, I knew a moment in my life when I felt desirable and gorgeous. Gone was the second grade teacher; a red-headed
vixen in a sexy magic gown stood in her place.
Even my curly red hair, that usually made me look like I'd walked
through a gale-force wind, looked ravishing, wild, and almost hussy-like. As I peered in wonder into the mirror, HE saw
me. The security guard who obviously
wasn't a security guard stood behind me, looking at me. I mean LOOKING at me with the most adoring
look of amazement on his face. Every
sequin sparkled. Every dead silkworm
sent its essence to radiate through the silk and HE saw me.
Somewhere in the accessories
department, a Yankee lit a cigarette in a blatantly non-smoking section. Foam gushed from every ceiling nozzle in the
store.
It took me two days to fade the
green streaks from my legs.
Excerpt from
Possum
Playing Poker
© Evelyn Rainey
Available for publication.
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