The invite started innocuously...a fence, a neighbor in the driveway...he was going to be home alone that weekend due to a horse-show so it was just him and the dogs and maybe a cocktail alone. He was ready for such an evening, tired from an afternoon of golf on the nearby course so he was a bit caught when his neighbor approached him as he unloaded his clubs from the car.
Hey, we're having a few kids over tonight...and a bunch of parents...why not stop by? We'll have more food than we need.
He stood there listening to the request, dripping sweat and holding the clubs...
Let me think about it...I am leaning towards it but I don't have anything I can bring...maybe some bourbon?
We have a ton of stuff...just come over...bring some of your cigars.
He was sitting at a table near the pool...there were about 20 people on the patio or in the house...from where he was sitting he could make out the dark pine trees and beyond them the lighter green of a fairway of the golf course. It was dusk but a few fireflies were bouncing along. He twirled his drink, currently a vodka with a splash of cranberry. He had arrived an hour after the appointed time, airbrush kissed the wife of the host, shook the host's hand and meandered out to this spot...he pulled out a cigar from the Liberty collection and lit it. He was far away enough from the kids and the smoke kept the mosquitos away.
He had changed into dark jeans and a linen shirt...he was sunburnt and probably over-served but he kept quiet. The neighbors had done a nice job, lighting candles on the diving board and on tables...it was an odd mix...parents and kids, like chaperones but the kids didn't really care...laughing and moving from inside to out...there was faint music on somebody's Spotify app but it kept changing from 80s music to current...the volume stayed the same.
He inhaled, wondering how long he was gonna stay...what the border of politeness looked like when he saw her shape. Rather it was a color first, then a shape...white, a stark contrast against the bricks of the house and the other parents...a white (cotton?) dress, but it was graced by an angle of cheek bones that were stunning from across the yard. He felt her turn and observe him...felt his sunburn flare a bit and he exhaled a blue plume of smoke. She had already moved on, talking to another parent or somebody...
His cigar smoldered, his drink was empty so he blew on the tip of the tobacco until it glowed and he set it on the edge of table. He figured he'd need to go in to find the vodka and the music seemed louder and the fireflies were getting bolder and getting nearer and there were more of them. He stood up and crossed the yard.
Inside it was graciously cooler, the air conditioning at full blast because no teenagers know how to close a door...the noise was louder, the rooms smaller and the conversations at full tilt. He nodded to the owner (neighbor) in a "thank you for inviting me" gesture, and looked at the bar...lots of rum and tequila...but finally found the vodka. There was a huge bag of ice in the sink and he refilled his glass. He found the cranberry and felt a small victory at being able to assemble his drink without much drama.
How is your view?
He heard her voice and wasn't sure it was meant for him...like a polite nod to a guest or neighbor. But it was intimate and yet matter of fact...like the way a business person speaks...but also somebody from the low country of Virginia...a sideways drawl that never leaves...the James River churn and the waltz into the Atlantic creates a salt mixture that is hard to replicate. Her voice...in his recollection, was like what sounded like bourbon being poured over a perfect circle of ice.
But again, he wasn't sure it was for him. So he turned.
She was wearing white...not searingly but adorning her frame, a lovely one that was aligned slightly with her left hip pushed forward...like she was waiting for him to move out of her way.
I'm sorry I'm in your way....uhm, what view are you talking about?
She had a drink in her hand, empty...and her eyes were filled with mirth...a brief smile. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. Her cheekbones were framed and geometry friendly. A young teen interrupted her, tugging her away to meet somebody. She leaned forward, like in an apology and turned away.
He watched her remove herself and turned and added more vodka to his drink.
He returned to his seat at the backyard, the gloaming of the evening turning purple...he saw his cigar waning but when picked up and inhaled it grew orange at the tip. He settled down, listening to another song that bounced in the air like the humidity. He could no longer see the green fairway and the outlines of the pines were black. He sipped his drink, the shapes of people yards away. The pool reflected the patio lights and shimmered. It was pleasant.
He felt more than saw her approach...like pushed air...a slight disturbance. He saw in his peripheral vision a white shape...against the house, against the blackening pool. He couldn't see her face but that voice was like moniker...he would be able to place it anywhere if ever heard again.
I'm sorry...I got pulled away she explained.
Perfectly fine...I wasn't sure if the question was for me. The view?
He picked up the cigar, careful to exhale away from her. He continued..
..I mean when you asked me I was looking at the bar...and then I was looking at you...so I wasn't sure if I was...going to compliment the bar? Or compliment your dress?
She laughed, a deeper than expected one...it was exquisite.
I apologize...I saw you out here and thought I'd ask about the view from this spot by the pool.
Ah...well...up until darkness it was quite nice...it's a lovely crowd but the fireflies tend to win.
I'm sure...it is cooler here as well...and I do love the smell of cigar smoke.
He looked at her...pulling on the cigar again...he blew it away from her though.
Well, I'm just a neighbor taking advantage of some free drinks...and maybe good company..
She moved very slightly...altered might be the right word.
Is that what I am?
I don't know. Maybe? You've got an empty glass and an affinity for cigar smoke. I can help with both of those I suppose.
She regarded him. And then in that voice.
Could you fetch me a bourbon? Rocks and water...and maybe a cigarette? We may as well smoke together.
Inside the music continued to get louder, the teenagers starting to dare each other with jumping into the pool...some of the adults were off the patio and into the interior parts of the home. He had found a young teen with a pack of cigarettes and matches and offered twenty bucks for them. He stuffed those in his pocket and made way for the bar...he discovered Blantons and poured a double and put a splash of ice and water into the glass. He refilled his with a ton of vodka, little ice and little cranberry. He headed out towards the outside.
She was still standing there...patient...visible by the white dress. Against the backdrop of the lawn and the pines she was almost angelic. He didn't tell her that.
He handed her the glass. He pulled out the pack and she pulled one out. He struck the match and held it close to her...she pulled his hand closer and lit the end...her hand stayed perhaps a moment too long...and he could smell her perfume. But she was just a shape now, an orange glow...
He regarded her.
This blossom.
This new planet.
This new color.
Against the evening she strayed close to him...fireflies against pines...beauty versus darkness...ice molting in a glass and the sound of others very nearby.
She took tentative puffs of her cigarette...letting it mostly burn...sipping at her bourbon...he knew he was moments away from somebody suddenly appearing...to rip away this visage but he breathed it in.
The humidity, the music...the shimmering pool, the outlined pines...
I am very pleased to meet you....he extended his glass...she offered up hers, clinked it with a satisfying collision of crystal and the evening kept on...not really noticing them behind the pool, near the pines...the blink of fireflies trying to attract each other to bliss.
