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     ## ##  ###    I S S U E   # 0 8 5        0 6 - 2 3 - 0 0   ###  ####   
    ###  # ###                                                   #######    
    ####  ###                     "Touch"                          ###       
     #######                   by Phairgirl                            
      ####                                                                  

	She was always sitting there.  Fuck reality, she wasn't your average
 anything.  But she was always sitting there, every day when Kevin went to
 get his morning coffee and read the same daily bullshit they published in
 the local paper.  She was a regular, and there were plenty of them.

	Kevin never frequented any places until he saw her the first time.
 His friend Alex had invited him out for a brunch one morning and dragged him
 into the lowly diner in a part of town that he had never even realized was
 there.  He spent a lot of time watching everyone.

	"Yo, Alex," Kevin half-whispered.

	"Yeah?"

	"What's with that guy over there, he keeps yelling at the table next
 to him, but nobody's there."

	"That's Raymond.  Everyone knows Ray.  He's always talking about
 society is bad this and the world hates him that, blah blah blah.  Nobody
 pays attention to him, that's just the way he is," Alex summed.

	Kevin was slightly baffled.  "Don't they kick people out for stuff
 like that?"

	"Nah, not Raymond.  He's here every day for coffee.  Sometimes he's
 laid back, some days are worse than others.  Everyone stops and talks to
 him.  He's a regular."

	"Ahhh, regular?  Why would a dump like this have regulars?" Kevin
 couldn't help asking.

	"You know.  Some small place isn't about to lose business by kicking
 out the dedicated customers.  And look at everyone else here.  Do they look
 disturbed?  Fuck no.  Why do you think they come here all the time?  Raymond
 is one in a million," Alek quipped, and settled back with his omelet.

	Kevin glanced around himself some more.  He saw an older lady
 knitting something, with a cup of coffee, a glass of soda, and a pitcher of
 water in front of her.  She would stitch a few, rearrange the glasses, and
 stitch a few more.  There was a haggard old man who looked like he slept in
 a dumpster, carefully cradling his coffee mug, staring at it as though it
 were a kaleidoscope, occasionally falling forward in half-sleep and jerking
 himself awake.  And then there was this tall, lanky girl, dressed in black
 with obscenely long brown hair, meditating over a notebook, occasionally
 scribbling and pounding her fists on the table.

	And after that day, Kevin knew this was the place he had to be.  He
 was completely fascinated by the characters within the small cafe, and all
 of his thoughts seemed to be pervaded by his preoccupation with their quirks
 and oddities.  He wanted to KNOW them.  He couldn't watch them continually
 spend their time alone with their essence lost in a middle-of-nowhere
 nothingsville rattrap.  So he went back.

	And soon, Kevin was almost a regular.  Nobody thought of him as one,
 as he always quietly sat, sipping and reading.  He could almost predict the
 other regulars' comings and goings, their idiosyncracies, their good days
 and bad.  And although Raymond was always spectacular for the occasional
 conversation, and the knitting lady always had bright, cheerful, 1950s-esque
 things to say, he always dodged the girl in black.  He was intrigued, but
 her presence made him feel like a travelling nothing.

	Finally he mustered the courage.  He was intimidated to the point
 where he almost broke out in hives.  He was strangely attracted to her, but
 she was by far the most spastic regular he'd watched.  Some days she'd stare
 blissfully out the windows, watching the clouds move across the sky.  Other
 days she'd be fighting back tears, every move violent.  Totally
 unpredictable.  Completely frightening.

	Kevin stood above her as she sat scribbling away in her notebook.  He
 bent down slightly and asked, "Care for some company?"

	The stared at him with a completely stony expression.  "Feel free,"
 she said in a very friendly voice, but still with that face.  She slowed her
 scribbling and eventually lounged about in the booth and began sipping her
 coffee.

	She began to speak.  "You're an artist, I can tell," she spoke quite
 demurely, but still with the fierce, empty stare.  "And you've been watching
 me, you want to be a regular here, you blend in with all the other faces.
 But you get me.  Now you've come to confirm you're not crazy."

        Kevin was at a complete and utter loss for words.  Finally, he
 managed to choke out, "Well, yeah, I write music now and again, just for
 something to do."  He paused.  She seemed to be waiting for him to say more,
 although her expression hadn't changed at all.  He continued, "Um, yeah, my
 friend Alex showed me this place, it's pretty quaint."  Once again, she sat
 in silence, lighting a cigarette and staring at him intently.  He stammered
 forward.  "I, uh, you know, just thought I'd come over, and, uh, talk to you
 a bit, since, since you seem to come here a lot and stuff."  His attempt at
 courage was completely lost now, and any casual smoothness he had hoped to
 exude was absolutely laughable.

	Her glare was completely breaking him down now, and he averted his
 gaze.  She began speaking again.  "I'm Asilyn."  She took a cool, relaxed
 drag from her smoke and slowly let it out.

	Kevin looked up again.  "I'm Kevin," he answered.  He tried to regain
 his cool.  "So, Asilyn, what do you do, besides come here and write?"

	Her position shifted as she sat upright in the booth once more.  Her
 face became a little softer, more casual, and much more expressive.  "You
 know," she started, "not much at all.  I go to work, I sleep, I eat, I
 write.  I spend a lot of time relaxing," she added, "and just keeping things
 together.  You know."

	Kevin instantly felt much more at ease with the girl, now that she
 had magically turned into a human being.  "Yeah, I hear ya," he began.  "I
 mean, I write music, but that's mostly a hobby.  I have to work a regular
 job too, pay bills, yadda yadda.  Normal life, normal everything," he
 summed, and took a long sip of his coffee.

	And suddenly, Asilyn violently put out her cigarette, folded her arms
 on the table in front of her, and leaned forward.  "I like to touch people,"
 she said.  "People are so uptight about touch."  Her eyes became bright and
 intense.  "When a new waiter or waitress brings me my coffee, I like to
 reach over and touch their shoulder, run my hand down their arm.  And they
 always recoil in horror, as if I had somehow infected them with leprosy and
 their limb was no longer human.  And I just look at them, you know, LOOK at
 them," she said passionately, squinting her eyes a bit and becoming much
 more animated.  "They think you're crazy.  But you're not.  It's them,
 they're the problem, they're not human, they can't deal with someone
 touching them."  Asilyn was all spark as she lifted her mug to her lips
 again.  "Touch is so horrifying.  I like to touch.  And I wish someone would
 touch me."

        Kevin was almost taken aback by her radically sudden interest in
 conversation, but instead became fuel himself and absorbed her fire.  He too
 leaned forward.  Without even thinking about it, he asked, "Listen, Asilyn,
 how about we get out of here, go take a drive, walk around or something?" he
 asked, suddenly feeling empowered.

	And instantly, Asilyn changed again.  She once again sat straight up
 in her booth and regained the look of stone.  She laughed quietly,
 sarcastically.  She looked him dead in the eye and sneered, "I don't even
 KNOW you."

	Kevin was instantly back where he began, feeling like a lost puppy in
 rush hour traffic.  Cut my losses, he thought.  He began sliding out of the
 booth and muttering, "Well, Asilyn, nice to meet you..."

	Asilyn cut him off.  She continued, almost spitting at him now:  "You
 coward.  You're no different than anyone else.  Go, go write your music and
 read your newspaper and yadda yadda your way through life, go on."  She
 rearranged herself in her seat again, banged a fist on the table, picked up
 her pen and began scribbling insanely.

	Kevin was completely aghast.  His first instinct was to turn tail and
 run, but after she called him out, he knew that wasn't the way he wanted to
 leave.  No.  He stood outside of the booth and leaned down less than a foot
 from her engrossed, psychotic writing, and let it out.  "Yeah, that's right,
 get all personal, because you're the one that comes here and flamboyantly
 vies for attention, then shuns anyone who attempts to get to know you.
 Don't think that nobody sees through that shit, that's why I'm the only one
 who has given you a chance.  And if you want to keep playing your games, you
 go right ahead, because I'm through with them."

        Suddenly, the ever-changing Asilyn suddenly looked up at him, stamped
 out her cigarette, and said, "Let's go."

	She grabbed her notebook and slid quickly from the booth.  She then
 grabbed Kevin's arm and nearly yanked him towards the door.  She half-
 dragged him to the front counter and threw down a five for their coffee.
 Kevin then caught up with her and led her to his car.

	Once inside and with the car running, Kevin asked, "Okay, so, where
 do you--"

        "A park.  Any park.  The closest park, open space, anything," Asilyn
 interrupted, and Kevin pulled away.

	The car ride was one of the most uncomfortable moments that Kevin had
 ever experienced.  Asilyn didn't speak; she didn't question, dictate, or
 react.  And when they pulled into a small park overlooking another part of
 the city and parked, she quickly got out of the car and resumed dragging
 Kevin by the arm.

	By this time, Kevin just had to laugh; this was all so crazy.  He
 started resisting her pull and laughing out loud.  "What in the fuck are we
 doing here?" he asked her.

	With that, Asilyn stopped, and suddenly took on the appearance of a
 playful kitten.  She giggled a bit, spun around walking backwards and tugged
 on Kevin's arm.  "I have to show you something," she smiled.  "I know you'll
 understand."

	She found a bit of shrubbery and foliage on one side of the park and
 quickly navigated through it, finding an oasis of sorts with a clearing and
 a bit of privacy.  "Here," she glanced again at Kevin.  "Sit down, here in
 the grass."

	Kevin was amazed at the sudden turn of events, and was starting to
 get a bit suspicious.  Yet he sat just the same, and asked, "Okay, what on
 earth is this all abou--"

	"Shhhh,"  hissed Asilyn.  She kneeled in front of him.  "Close your
 eyes.  I need to show you what I do.  You'll understand, you're an artist."

	At this point, Kevin really had no other choice but to leave himself
 in her hands.  He closed his eyes, and soon he felt her hands on his head,
 her thumbs just above his eyebrows.

	Asilyn began running her fingers down across his face, back up across
 his cheeks, alternately babytouching and scratching lightly with her
 fingernails.  She pressed, she massaged, she tickled, she gouged.  And her
 hands ran their way across his face, down his neck, across his shoulders,
 arms, and chest, down to his stomach and around his sides to his kidneys.
 He could feel her breath on his face as she began reciting:

        "As the lock broke..." (the backs of her fingertips up his chest)
	"Entered warm sea foam..." (circles of tickling touch on his neck)
        "Until black night..." (grasping his jawline, thumbs to his lips)
        "Struggling to roam..." (clawing to his hair, clearing his face)
        "Desperate for the lock..." (moving closer, breath inches from his)
	"And some kind of home."

	She had nearly wrapped herself around him, and Kevin still hadn't
 opened his eyes.  The intensity was beyond astounding as she ran her hands
 once more to his face and breathed heavily into him.  "Open your eyes,
 Kevin," she purred, and their eyes locked.

        Neither of them moved.  Kevin fought every urge to lean forward the
 ridiculously short distance to kiss her, to touch her, to give her
 everything her body pleaded with him to do.  Yet he couldn't, no matter how
 much the desire overwhelmed him.

	And after what seemed like forever, Asilyn spoke.  "Someday, someone
 will touch me," she whispered, and her eyes grew sad.

	She then sank back away from Kevin and stood up.  Neither said a word
 as she turned and walked away.

 ****************************************************************************
 # (c)2000 aNAda e'zine                          aNAda085 .*.  by Phairgirl #
 ............................................................................
