CHRISTINE IN BLUE --Chapter 1

It was rainy outside, the water slid like sheets off the awning of the bar. Only two people besides us had come inside to drink the day away. They were an old man, and a young man, but from their postures, it was hard to tell them apart. I turned to watch the rain cascade.

He paused for a moment, his eyes intent as they darted to mine, before he picked up his cigarettes. The match flared bright, casting shadows upward across his face. I held my breath until he exhaled.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" He asked me.

I swallowed and managed a nod. My mouth felt stale and fuzzy. I lifted my glass, downing the shot of scotch. Catching the bartender's eye, I motioned for another. It was my fifth. For some reason, I couldn't feel any of them. I wasn't going to give up.

He stared at me hard, so I nodded again. My hand was shaking, holding the glass clutched tight. I set it down and shoved my hand under the table, hoping he hadn't noticed. I had to know, though, I needed to understand. See, I had loved her too.

He waited until the bartender left before he started to talk.

"I met her the same as you. She was waiting tables over at that seedy diner on 23rd. Graveyard shift, no less, with the prostitutes and the drunks. Shoulda known she was crazy then."

He grinned, tapping the ashes off his cigarette.

"Crazy damned broad," he shook his head, chuckling, remembering.

"I was bouncing then, over at Dirty Dan's, so I'd come in after work, you know, sometimes with a coupla dancers. So I'm sitting there, with these two shakers, and she walks up to take our order. At first I didn't notice her. I mean, come on, in those waitress get-ups at 4am, who would think to check her out? Then she spoke. That's what made me look at her, see, because she had this voice. It...it was like calm, cool, but clear...untouched."

He grinned self consciously.

"Shit, I don't know man. It was cultured. Yeah." He took another drag off his cigarette. "So I look up, to see what kinda face a voice like that comes from. At first, you almost think she's ugly, but it's because she's so beautiful. You know what I mean?"

He looked at me, questioning. I just nodded.

"There was something off about her features. Forehead too big, eyes too wide, you couldn't put your finger on it. But it worked on her. And those lips. Big puffy lips. Cocksucking lips my dad always called 'em. What got to me the most, though, and what I later decided was exactly what made her so beautiful, was her sadness. She was so sad. Like in a really deep way. Made her seem unreachable, untouchable."

I knew exactly what he meant. An image of her flashed in my mind. I pushed it back down.

"I remember, I'm sitting there, my food in front of me, these two bitches cackling away across the table, and all I'm doing is racking my brain trying to come up with something to say to her. Thing was, though, one look at this broad and you know all your best come-ons are going to fail. You knew she'd just get insulted. The whole time I was there, I couldn't think up one thing to say. So I left. But I came back the next night. And the next...lets face it, I was hooked."

He stared at his empty glass for a moment, caught up in his memories. I motioned for another round, and when the bartender approached, I asked him to kindly leave the bottle. We each did another shot before he went on.

"I'd been coming there every night for about a week when I first saw him. Hair long and black and shaggy, not quite long enough to tie back. His face was pockmarked and pitted. A small neat mustache and goatee clashed against the rest of him. He always sat back in the corner, kinda huddled in. And he always watched her. She seemed not to notice, really.

"So one night, I hang around until she's done, thinking maybe then I'll come up with words. But what does she do? Goes straight up to this greasy looking guy, gets her coat from him, and away the two of them go. Now what the hell was she doing with a guy like that?"

He seemed to genuinely want an answer, so I shrugged. He still looked confounded by the question.

"So I think to myself, ok, she's got a man, might as well back off. But the next night, sure as shit, my feet were walking into the diner. This time I noticed the guy right off the bat. He was hunched up in the corner, a worn leather jacket stretched across his back. I sat a couple booths back from him and studied his shoulders, wondering what kind of man he was. He looked like a dealer, or a pimp, but the sleazy white trash variety. Maybe even a biker. I gave up trying to peg him and just watched the girl.

"She put me in a trance, I swear. I'd just stare at her hands, wondering how such delicate fingers could belong to a waitress. I'd watch her body move, trapped in its polyester prison of tackiness. Man, she moved like water, just kinda flowed across the floor. Not much swing in the hips, but a sensation of floating. Like she didn't quite touch the floor. That was the whole thing with her, you know? She just didn't seem to let anything touch her.

"So I'm staring at her, lost in my head, when I get this prickly feeling, like the hair standing up on my neck. I turn my head quickly, and he is staring right at me, her man was. And the strangest thing, he was smiling at me. I felt like I had gotten busted, so I cleared outta that joint, vowing to never return. I stayed away for five days. Five long days, and I don't even wanna admit how much of my time was spent thinking of her. Jesus, I didn't even know her name."

"So for five days I stayed away, but on the sixth I was back, and starving for the sight of her. Like withdrawals." He chuckled to himself.

"My routine was the same: order, then stare at her for as long as I could. With this grease ball always watching, I gave up on trying to talk to her. I was leaving her these big tips, too, thinking maybe she was stuck with this guy because of money or drugs or something. I mean, she was a waitress at a lousy diner, you can't tell me she didn't need the money.

"I hung around again until her shift was over. As usual, she went to the scuzzo, got her coat, and they started walking past me towards the door, her ahead of him. I saw him hang back a little. When he reached my table, this guy, he just looks at me, like real hard. His eyes were hard anyhow, but he was smiling. He just stared for a moment, then dropped a matchbook on my table and strolled out, placing his arm around her. No looking back, you know, like this guy had all the confidence in the world.

"I was stunned, really, and more than a little dubious about everything. I opened the matchbook. Inside the cover, was a name and a number, it said 'Christine'."

Even I had to suppress a shiver when he said her name. Christine....

"Well, obviously I was little confused about this, I mean, why would her boyfriend or whatever he was give me her name and number? What did it mean? And most importantly, could I call? How do you do that? I mean, I didn't even know if she knew I was alive, let alone if she wanted me to call her. And what about the boyfriend. Don't think I didn't wonder if she was whore or not. The thought did cross my mind, but it just didn't seem right, I just couldn't picture that, you know? It was all too much, I decided, and best if I steered clear of whatever was cooking here. So I left, but instead of leaving the matchbook, or throwing it out, I put it in my pocket."

"Still, easier said than done, and now I had her name too. I couldn't shake it out of my head, 'Christine', I heard over and over. I tested the name on my lips, walking down the street, the sun just starting to come up. Beautiful Christine. Sad Christine. Like suddenly she was real because she had a name, you know."

He wasn't looking for agreement; in fact, I doubted he really was aware of my presence at the moment. He stared off into space, his eyes fixed firmly in the past, before shaking his head as if shaking off a dream.

"Look, things, they got a little weird, ok? I mean...." He looked at me, his eyes imploring mine to understand. I just nodded; again, it seemed to be all I could do. Absolution was not mine to give.

"So fuck it, I think, right, and I stayed away from that diner, really I did, for a little while, but I felt drawn back. You ever feel like that? Like you have no choice at all, like you just have to do what destiny wants? Well that's how I felt. But I didn't go in, no. Instead, I waited down the street for her and the sleaze to leave. I know, don't say it, questionable behavior in the best of lights.

"I waited for them, and when they left, I followed, trailing about half a block behind. They ended up going into an old building on 30th, one of those places that used to be industrial but were switched over to apartments. I stood across the street leaning up against the wall, and just watched the building. I don't know why I didn't leave once they'd gone inside. I stood there for a long time, though I don't really know how long. The sun was up and the morning commuters were thinning out before I turned and headed back home.

"The following night, I had no work, so I said fuck it, and went back into the diner, earlier this time. Must have been around 12:30, 1am. But she wasn't there; she wasn't working. That was no problem, though, I figured, and before knew it, my feet were tracing their way back to her building. I resumed my space against the wall across the street and kept my vigil on Christine.

"Yeah, I know, it's crazy, stalking even, but it really didn't feel like it, you know? I mean, it's not like I thought, 'Hey, I’m going to stalk this woman, follow her around, watch her'. I made no decisions, I simply was doing it.

"I don't know when it was that I noticed the light up on the 3rd floor. I was staring at the window, watching an occasional breeze blow the curtains, when she appeared.

"Her hair was loose, I'd never seen it like that, and it flowed over her shoulders like a warm brown wave. Even from across the street it looked soft. She had on a nightgown or something sheer like that, delicate little straps held it up across her shoulders. It was pale blue, like powder blue. I stared up at her, transfixed. My heart was beating, and everything in me felt like celebrating because my vigil had paid off. Then she looked at me. Right at me. I almost jumped out of my skin.

"She looked down at me on the street, and just watched me as I was watching her. There was no doubt in my mind she recognized me from the diner, still she didn't move, she didn't cry out. No real emotion seemed to touch her.

"As I watched, a hand came across her neck, pulling her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, and her breasts thrust forward, pressing her nipples against the sheer fabric. I could see them clearly, even from the distance. I saw him lower his head and kiss her neck, all the while my heart was beating faster and faster inside my chest.

"He slid the straps of her nightgown down, and there I am, staring at her breasts. Needless to say, I was rather turned on, but panicky too. My palms were sweaty, in fact, all of me felt sweaty. I wiped at my face and kept looking. There was no way I could pull away. I remember, I kept whispering her name too, like some mantra or something.

"She looked down at me again, I mean directly down at me, and then he was pulling her head back, his hand on her chin. You know what happened next? The motherfucker pulled out a knife. Not some little knife mind you, this was a fucking bowie or something like that. He pressed the blade against her neck. He ran that knife up and down her neck, caressing her with the blade. My heart was really hammering now, and all kinds of alarm bells were going off in my head. My mind was screaming things like 'Get the fuck outta here', and 'Go stop him, save her', but I was frozen to the spot. I couldn't have helped myself at that moment.

"He slid the knife lower, across her collarbone, then slid it beneath her breast, kinda lifting the breast with the side of the knife. He scraped the blade across her nipple, and I saw it harden into a tight little ball against the steel. The blade slid lower still, down towards her abdomen, and out of my sight for a few moments. I tried to see her face, I had to know, but he held her back tight against him, her head tilted back, while he watched over her shoulder as the blade ran across her skin.

"Then he looked at me, I mean he looked right fucking at me, there was no doubt. I almost shit. I thought, great, I'm done now, busted peeping in some chicks window by her boyfriend, what the fuck is wrong with me? And to be honest, I was a little afraid of him. I mean this guy didn't seem to give a shit about anything, and people like that are dangerous, I've run across them before.

"Then it was the strangest thing, he smiled at me, I mean really grinned, a creepy thing, that grin, while he held that knife pressed against Christine's neck. He stared right at me, that smile on his face, and then slid the blade to her breast again. As I watched, he cut her, I mean really cut her. This line of blood appeared at the top of her breast, and this sick motherfucker, slid his finger in it, still looking at me, and then popped his finger in his mouth, licking the blood off it. My heart was beating furiously now, and I knew I was going to be sick. I turned and ran, that image of his bloody lips curled in a smile for me burned into my brain.

"I ran and ran, not knowing where I was or where I was running to. Imagine, I've lived in this city my whole life and for the first time I think I was actually lost. I stopped a couple times to puke, then ran on more, wiping the sweat and throw up from my face. When I finally stopped, I was all the way to the river; I'd run out of land to run on. And I was crying. I mean, what the fuck, you know? The guy had actually cut her. I knew right then I had to save her, no matter what. I couldn't let her stay with this guy, he'd end up killing her, I was convinced of it."

He shook his head again, trying to lighten the mood with another self-deprecating grin. Instead it came out looking desperate and twisted. He pressed his hands to his eyes, and I reached for his cigarettes, "Do you mind if I have one?" He nodded. It had been years since I'd smoked. Fuck it.