Day-Walker

Excerpt

He sat, silent and still in the darkened recess. The seat beside him remained empty, a void that separated him from everyone else. The others present in the room felt distant, as if he were looking through a window, set apart from the scene. He stared straight ahead, towards the beam of light and the young woman who stood beneath it, bathed in its glow. The jewel at her throat caught the light, the rainbow colours dancing forth from its many facets as she moved. Then her voice was heard, soft and low at first, building to a glorious crescendo as her aria reached its passionate conclusion.

He joined in the applause, clapping calmly and sedately from his place in the back row of the auditorium. She dipped into a curtsey, revealing a tantalising, brief glimpse of pale-skinned cleavage, a striking contrast against the deep burgundy of her gown, which clung tightly across her bosom before billowing out at the waist into a full, long skirt.

He watched entranced as the fabric swayed, the soft crinkling sound reaching him over the clamour of the audience. He gazed at her face as she rose from her bow. And for a moment, her eyes met his: bright, hazel irises flashing out at him from below wavy auburn locks. A few short seconds stretched into an eternity. Abruptly, the connection was gone. She was looking the other way, bowing her head once more, acknowledging the continuing applause. Then she left the stage.

He sat there, unmoving, a statue half hidden amongst the deep grey shadows. The rest of the audience began to filter out, and snatches of conversation filled the air around him: comments on the performance; discussions about where to eat; banalities such as the next day's shopping list. He pushed the sounds away, blocking them out of his mind as he continued to stare at the now empty stage. Then he was alone.

He stood and strolled towards the exit, turning to cast a final glance around the auditorium before the door swung shut behind him.

* * * * *

Darci fumbled with the fastening at the back of her dress, squirming and twisting, tugging at the zipper until it finally slid down. She gingerly stepped out of it, trying not to tread on the material, gathering up the mass of burgundy faux-silk in her arms and replacing it neatly on its hanger. Her hands smoothed out the creases, fingers running across the sheen of the material in a gentle arc. Satisfied that all was in order, she zipped it into its carry bag and deposited it on the hook behind her, reaching for her other clothes.

She loved her stage costume--it made her feel glamorous and it looked good under the lights despite only being an imitation of the real thing--but she much preferred her comfy, worn-in, and desperately faded jeans any day. Once she was dressed in more suitable attire, she grabbed up her bags and made a beeline for the door.

She proceeded down the steps of the Conservatorium, taking quick, easy steps. She instantly felt the night air against her face, a pleasant change from the blasting cold of the air conditioning inside, which had been cranked up too high as usual. Her concert had been an early evening performance, so it was only just dark, hints of orange-pink hues still kissing the horizon as she made her way round the building and on to North Terrace.

"Sorry!" She had been so lost in thought she had stepped out into a surge of on-coming pedestrians and had to shuffle back out of their way. The girl she'd nearly walked into scowled at her, but the rest of the teenage hoard crossed in front of her without a second glance, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. She wondered what plans they had this Friday night, and she suddenly felt every one of her twenty-six years bearing down on her in the face of their youthful exuberance and nonchalance.

Her fingers toyed with the buttons on her jacket as she waited. Finally, the last of the stragglers and hangers-on at the back had passed her, and she was free to move again. She had considered some late-night shopping--well, browsing anyway--in the last half-hour before the stores closed their doors, but she found that the mood had left her, and instead she turned in the direction of the bus stop.

The seat in the bus shelter stood empty, informing her that she had just missed one bus and would have to wait. She settled herself as well as she could on the uncomfortable bench, resting her bags beside her.

While she waited, she replayed the concert in her mind. It went well. Perhaps they'll book me again. Thoughts of money and bills, unbidden and unwanted guests, began to slip into her mind and she fought to find something else to occupy her. That guy at the back was attractive. Her mouth curved into a gentle smile as she remembered how he'd looked straight at her. Somehow, she had sensed his gaze and found her own drawn towards him, the intensity of his appraisal capturing her attention completely.

"May I join you?"

Darci started, leaning away as she looked up to find the owner of the voice. Heat rushed to her cheeks, her embarrassment rising when she recognised the very man she had just been thinking of.

"Of course," she answered at last, stumbling over the words as they caught in her throat. She shifted farther along the bench to allow him room to sit down.

"An enjoyable performance," he said.

"Thank you." A sudden shyness made her want to lower her gaze, but she found herself unable to stop staring. Up close, his eyes were amazing. She had never seen anything quite like them: a bright ice-blue that melted inwards into gleaming sapphire. They must be contacts No one has eyes like that.

"Do you have any other concerts soon?"

"I'll be at St Peter's on Thursday--a lunchtime recital."

"Perhaps I'll be there then." He smiled widely, dimpling his cheeks and unleashing a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. "I don't often go out much during the day, but for you, I might make an exception."

Get a grip. You don't even know this guy, she told herself sternly, though she couldn't help but return his smile. "That would be great... I mean, it's always good to fill the seats."