The Contradiction of Solitude Read Free Page B

you should just eat them and stop playing with your food like a two year old,” she suggested without a hint of coldness or sarcasm.
    Her voice was calmly neutral and devastatingly blasé. She had taken me out at the knees as though she were talking about the weather.
    Who was this girl?
    “Or I could do that,” I agreed, humiliated and intrigued all at the same time.
    She cocked her head to the side and regarded me, and I felt like fidgeting in my seat. But I didn’t. I wasn’t that guy. I still had some balls after all.
    Even if they were starting to shrivel under her impenetrable gaze.
    Then she quietly slid into the chair opposite me, without an invitation, and reached for the menu wedged between the ketchup bottle and maple syrup.
    This was odd.
    She was odd.
    I picked up another fry and dunked it in the ranch dressing. I ate it slowly, watching the girl with the coal black eyes the entire time.
    “Can I get you anything else, Elian?” Nancy asked, coming back to the table.
    The girl who had taken over my table continued to study the menu, as though she were by herself in this room full of people. As though sitting across from me meant nothing but a shared space between strangers.
    And really wasn’t that all it was?
    I wasn’t so sure.
    “Uh, do you want to order?” I asked the girl, feeling off balance.
    I was unsettled.
    The girl with the coal black eyes finally looked up from the menu and closed it softly before putting it back where she found it.
    “I’ll have what he’s having.”
    “Good choice,” I said, smiling. Her lips lifted in response. Not so much a smile as a grimace. As though she wasn’t used to stretching those muscles.
    “Seasoned fries and ranch dressing it is,” Nancy said and she sounded a little sour. Nancy was a sweet middle-aged lady with graying red hair and lipstick on her teeth. She had been working at Denny’s for as long as I had been eating there. Three long years.
    “Thanks Nancy. And can I get a slice of Kentucky pie while you’re at it?” I asked and Nancy gave me a sweet look before writing the order on her pad.
    Once Nancy was gone, I turned to Coal Black Eyes and waited. She had pulled out her book and had it open on the table in front of her, her arms folded to hold the battered edges down.
    What was going on?
    I didn’t say anything. It felt wrong to interrupt her. So I continued to build things with my fries. I’d carefully pile them up and then slowly dismantle them. One by one.
    “My name’s Layna,” she said without looking up. Her hair fell on either side of her face like a curtain. Hiding her from my curiosity.
    Her voice was smoky and dark, much like her eyes.
    “Layna what?” I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin and waiting some more.
    She didn’t answer right away. She kept reading. And I kept eating.
    We fell into a slightly awkward but strangely companionable silence.
    It was the weirdest encounter of my entire life. I didn’t make a habit of sitting with strange girls who didn’t talk. I was an outgoing guy because it’s who I trained myself to become. Most people seemed to like me. I was safe. Non-threatening. Easygoing. I had mastered the art of hiding what I didn’t want others to see.
    I had friends. I had a job that I enjoyed. I had an ex-girlfriend or two that could corroborate to the fact that I was a decent sort of person.
    But there was something about this moment, this girl, that felt… necessary.
    I couldn’t help but stare at her.
    It wasn’t just her looks that fascinated me. She had a magnetism that was usually reserved for cult leaders and religious icons. I imagined walking over hot coals and jumping off cliffs. It wasn’t absurd or insane.
    It just was.
    Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should ask her why she was sitting at my table when I didn’t know her and it was obvious she wasn’t there for the conversation.
    But I didn’t do any of that.
    I just sat there. Eating my fries. One at a time. Trying not to stare