DROWNING MEMORIES | OPEN
Jul 19, 2013 1:15:59 GMT -5
Post by donatella prima castellano on Jul 19, 2013 1:15:59 GMT -5
words: 603 tagged: open notes: feel free to have someone go in an piss her off or cheer her up. or, you know, whatever. |
Her mind subconsciously drained out the booming sound, too intent of the scratches being made by her pen on the napkin. She’d originally come to the club to just get out, she had pretty much locked herself within her apartment after getting the news, and she figured at least here, she wouldn’t be the only one that wouldn’t be able to drink. However, in the midst of trying to dance and let loose, an old scene from Venice flashed in her mind, sending her reeling for something to draw with, and on. And that’s how she’d gotten here.
Carnival had always been part of her family tradition. Rossana complained about the noise and not liking the costumes so it was several nights in those weeks that she got to be free of her sister as she got dressed up and went out. It was where she met Lucian. She had strayed from her parents and snuck into the Renaissance ball, saying she was one of the dancers for the performances. She knew the old 15-16th century dances so, it wasn’t like it would completely cut out of her night. She remembered dancing with Lucian, sneaking glances at him from the corner of her mask. Everything about him, she wanted to know him more, she wanted to grab him and run from the party. He just made her heart beat a little faster, he invoked this… magical, mysterious side. Perhaps it was those dark brown eyes that just got her wondering about him, but one thing was for sure, she would find out where he’d be tomorrow and “accidently run into him there.” And that was the scene she was drawing now. Two people dancing in costume and masks. Their eyes locked, she even went into the detail about the Pesaro Papafava palace that night. Finally, after a moment, she put her pen down. Taking a long drink of her coke, she couldn’t remember his name, she just remembered he was roman by birth, another italian. She was so, taken with him. He had charm, wit. A man she’d never expected to meet here in America. He just had that way, he reminded her of Lucian, that sort of air of magnetic mystery, that just left her... longing and lost.
Leaning back, she sighed. Letting her eyes drift out to the people, she wondered in the mix of teenage hormones and drunken slurs if anyone here would even understand that feeling. Like their heart was beating so fast they got light-headed and their chest swelled. She wasn’t sure at all it was true these feelings, or if it was her own drunkenness that made her feel that way. She wanted someone to talk to about it, but she wasn’t sure who. And if she tried to talk to them about that, would it just slip that she was pregnant? This was all too much for her. She needed a real drink. Lifting her glass up again, ice came crashing down at her face and she quickly lowered the glass again. Grabbing the napkin she crumpled it up in her hand, and began weaving her way through the crowd.
Once up to the bar, she smiled as one girl grabbed her boy toy for the night, dragging them out onto the dance floor. She quickly stole the barstool where she once sat. Leaning over, she waved to the bartender and called out her order, this time non-alcoholic rum. Turning to face the sad mess of people in the crowd, she rested her elbows against the bar. Biting her lip, she lost herself in thought again.
Carnival had always been part of her family tradition. Rossana complained about the noise and not liking the costumes so it was several nights in those weeks that she got to be free of her sister as she got dressed up and went out. It was where she met Lucian. She had strayed from her parents and snuck into the Renaissance ball, saying she was one of the dancers for the performances. She knew the old 15-16th century dances so, it wasn’t like it would completely cut out of her night. She remembered dancing with Lucian, sneaking glances at him from the corner of her mask. Everything about him, she wanted to know him more, she wanted to grab him and run from the party. He just made her heart beat a little faster, he invoked this… magical, mysterious side. Perhaps it was those dark brown eyes that just got her wondering about him, but one thing was for sure, she would find out where he’d be tomorrow and “accidently run into him there.” And that was the scene she was drawing now. Two people dancing in costume and masks. Their eyes locked, she even went into the detail about the Pesaro Papafava palace that night. Finally, after a moment, she put her pen down. Taking a long drink of her coke, she couldn’t remember his name, she just remembered he was roman by birth, another italian. She was so, taken with him. He had charm, wit. A man she’d never expected to meet here in America. He just had that way, he reminded her of Lucian, that sort of air of magnetic mystery, that just left her... longing and lost.
Leaning back, she sighed. Letting her eyes drift out to the people, she wondered in the mix of teenage hormones and drunken slurs if anyone here would even understand that feeling. Like their heart was beating so fast they got light-headed and their chest swelled. She wasn’t sure at all it was true these feelings, or if it was her own drunkenness that made her feel that way. She wanted someone to talk to about it, but she wasn’t sure who. And if she tried to talk to them about that, would it just slip that she was pregnant? This was all too much for her. She needed a real drink. Lifting her glass up again, ice came crashing down at her face and she quickly lowered the glass again. Grabbing the napkin she crumpled it up in her hand, and began weaving her way through the crowd.
Once up to the bar, she smiled as one girl grabbed her boy toy for the night, dragging them out onto the dance floor. She quickly stole the barstool where she once sat. Leaning over, she waved to the bartender and called out her order, this time non-alcoholic rum. Turning to face the sad mess of people in the crowd, she rested her elbows against the bar. Biting her lip, she lost herself in thought again.
