Dancing in an Empty Train
The next time I met Rio, he was just another stranger on the train, standing, half-dancing in an empty car. I almost didn’t recognize him; in the café he’d been tiny, almost delicate, but standing, half-dancing to the iPod on his hip, he was taller than I expected, slender and very nearly powerful, with long muscles gently defined just beneath his skin. He recognized me, though, and I couldn’t mistake those eyes anywhere, or the smile that flashed across his face as he caught me watching him again.
“You! You’re the boy from the other night, at Hopper’s!” He walked over, taking out an earbud, letting it hang on his shoulder.
I laughed. “First time there. A friend of mine recommended it. I like it. It’s a good thinking-place.”
“Oh, where do you normally hang out? I used to go a lot back when it was called Phillies, but not so much lately. They started using this Brazilian coffee in the mix, and it’s nice and strong, but a little too harsh for me.” He bit gently at the corner of his lip, sucking on it. “Anyhow, I saw you playing pinball when you came in first. It’s really neat, because you don’t play with just your hands. You play with your hips, too.”
“It’s the only way to bump. You have to shove the frame around, but gently, so the machine won’t catch on and say Tilt.”
“I bet you’re pretty good at it.”
“I have the high score on the machine over at Pilades.”
“Really? How do I look?”
“You look… good.”
His smile widened as he ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth. “I’ve been to Pilades once or twice. I suppose it’s very nice. I like the people there, except that they all take things so… so seriously.”
We stood there in silence for a few minutes, and he seemed to slip back into his own little world again, working slowly back to his beat and his slow, happy blend of music and motion. He wasn’t very good, but he didn’t seem to care.
I took the earbud he offered me, watching him move as I listened. Clean, jazzy slacker-rock washed over the dull roar of the train, polishing its simple chords and panther snarls against themselves, again and again, breaking into pieces and coming together again until it melted into a polished little jewel of sound, wordless and almost unnaturally smooth in its careful, casual elegance. Rio mimed the snarls at me, trying to get me to play along.
The train gave me just enough time to fall under its spell, just in time to let go and snarl back, once, before Rio had to leave.
“That’s my stop. G’bye now,” he laughed, plucking the headphone from my ear. “I’ll see you around!”
And then again, he was gone.
Rio lives to tease. ^_^ You could almost mistake him for some kind of fantasy or a wild daydream.