A Lifetime in the Nighttime

It seemed like hours since the sun sunk below the line of the sea, but the sky was still tinged orange and pink with the smell of night only there when a gust of wind rustled the trees. Rio walked down the road smiling at the trees and crunching her shoes in the snow. It was getting colder, the temperature dropping steadily as the sky turned from pink to lavender, and Rio was still making her way towards an unknown source. Finally, the sky was no color other than the black deepness that is night.

Night, Rio thought, was the only time during the day she felt alive; the irony of it was that she was more alone during the night than she was during the day. She lived for the dark sheet that blanketed the town at night and the sleepiness seen in each house as the lights in each window slowly go out. She huffed, knowing that no lights were on in her house. Charles, her father, had left for a business trip to New York and Rio hated being home alone; it was the only place she did dislike the night.

She sighed, wondering if anyone looked at her house, the window of the living room giving the shot of a couch with a fireplace, television, a shelf of books and board games and a wall of photos and thought, 'wow, what a wonderful life.' She sighed again, kicking a chunk of ice. It bounced into the middle of the road was crushed by a car blasting by her. She had wondered why she left her house on feet and not in her car for she did adequate thinking with both, but was drawn to walking.

By the time most of the lights in her little town were extinguished, Rio landed at the only beacon of light she knew of; Gas N' Go. The bell rang as she walked in and she removed her hat, shaking off the little snowflakes that had fallen. "Hey, John!" She hollered across the store. He lifted up a coffee cup with her name on it and she couldn't help but smile.

John had become used to Rio's trips to the Gas N' Go and awaited her arrival and presence for hours once his shift began. There was something about Rio that made the long hours of his shift fly by like a jet plane. He made her coffee just as he remembered, two sugars and a dash of milk (just a dash). She made her way towards the snack counter and John took this as his chance to admire her.

Her blonde hair was spiraling down her naked back (she had also removed her jacket) with awkward pieces of frizz. Her hazel eyes were shining and the red sheen on her pale skin made her eyes seem even brighter than usual. Her gray sweater slung on her body awkwardly large for such a slim frame and a large heart was cut out in the back which revealed her sparkling white skin. She turned then, to look to John across the room, "Is the Slurpee machine working?" She hollered. His face was ruby red as he nodded.

John had failed to notice the bell that rang over the door just a few moments ago as he was mesmerized by Rio. The unknown patron walked towards the Slurpee machine and grabbed a cup just as Rio grabbed her own. The patron began with the blue and Rio with the red; how appropriate John thought for she was fire that kept his night alive and this stranger was the blue of ice of the other patrons who float inside. John returned to flipping through his newspaper as Rio turned to look at the person next to her.

"Duran!" She hollered, causing both John and Duran to jump.

Duran ruffled his dark hair and smiled, "Hello, Rio?" He said, ending her name with a question.

"Curious, isn't it?" Rio said, nonchanlantly, "I quite enjoy the red Slurpee, but you the blue. I find the blue to taste...artificial," she spat, wrinkling her nose. Duran chuckled, but only because the last word Rio said seemed completely illogical to him.

"Rio," he began slowly, "The flavoring is artificial."

Rio giggled, covering her mouth and the tongue that was slowly becoming pinker as she sipped her Slurpee. "Yes, but it tastes artificial. Blueberries do not taste like that!" She said, pointing a manicured nail at his cup. Again, Duran laughed, but it was simply a laugh of disdain at her childish nature. "I'm being serious!" She said, giggling a little.

"By that logic," Duran said, "I'm sure your Slurpee does not taste exactly like cherries." Rio stopped, looked at her Slurpee, took a sip and sighed. He was right, she thought, taking another sip. This tastes nothing like a cherry; it didn't even feel like eating a cherry. She walked to the trash can and dropped it into it. "Why did you do that?" Duran inquired.

"It tasted artificial. I blame you," she said, jutting her lip out in childish defiance. Duran chuckled again and turned to pay for his things. Rio, in turn, followed him and took her coffee that John made. She sipped it, smiling at its utter perfection. "Thank you, John," she said, turning to leave. She opened the door and held it for Duran. After, she began walking again. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do, but she couldn't stay there.

"Where's your car?" Duran asked, out of sheer manners.

"At home," she answered, casually. Duran heaved a sigh and sipped his Slurpee in frustration. The temperature was in the 30's, her jacket was hardly thick enough to sustain a long walk and her lips were already chapped and shivering. Duran opened the passenger door to his car and sighed, waiting for her to take the initiative.

"Are you going to get in?" He asked.

"Are you going to rape me?" She replied with a straight face.

The question made Duran take a step back with shock. How frank was she! Did he look like someone who would do that? He hadn't done his hair or shaved in a few days since his breakup, so perhaps scruffy, but not a rapist. Did he look needy? Physical satisfaction had not been in his fingers for only a month and he did not require such a thing; he had not let the internal animal in him awaken, surely not to the extent of allowing someone he did not know notice. Furthermore, such an animal wanted nothing but his sweet Rachel.

"Did you really just ask that?" He answered, finding that to be the only thing he could reply.

"Did you really take it seriously?" She asked, chuckling and walking towards his car. "You should have seen your face! It was so calculating! Perhaps I should be careful! Were you thinking of plan after I had so bluntly called you out?" She asked, slipping into the seat. Duran shut the door, stifling a strange laugh within himself. She was still giggling when he opened the door and he sat down and turned on the ignition. "Where are we going? Your hidden laboratory?" She said, giggling again.

He laughed softly, "I'm a rapist, not an evil scientist!"

Rio burst into joyous giggles, "You've admitted it! Oh Lord! Help me! Help me!" She yelled, throwing a hand over her forehead as if she was damsel in distress. Duran found an odd sensation in such childish games, one of which he felt the need to stop; it wasn't like him. He silenced himself and began backing the car out of the spot. Rio was silenced then too for she noted the awkward silence that he had settled into.

John watched the two leaving with an odd sense of jealousy overwhelming him. She had spent but twenty minutes in the store before she had whirled out of the place. She had offered no rays of sunshine on his deep never ending night nor had she offered company to overcome the noise of a ticking clock. He sighed again, watching the car's rear lights disappearing into the blanket of darkness.

"You're awfully quiet," Rio whispered, attempting to break the ice that had settled both over their town and inside his car. Duran nodded, tensely fixing his fingers on the steering wheel. He was attempting to stop any conversation and to end the ride quickly; he wanted no rumors to begin about the two when he was desperate for Rachel again.

"I suppose that's alright, I think I can talk for the both of us," she said, numbly.

"Rio, what's your favorite color?" She asked, lowering her voice a few octaves.

"Oh! It's red, I suppose that could be quite obvious although I do enjoy other warm color, contrary to the icy town we live in!" She answered, joyously.

"Oh, but Rio!" She answered, again in her deep voice, "Ice is simply water, it's clear. Which would then cause it to reflect most colors or remains clear." Duran chuckled then, surprised at how accurate her answer was with the answer that was ringing through his head. "Don't be illogical, Rio."

"I do not sound like that," he answered, laughing slightly.

"Oh yes, you do!" She answered, jumping excitedly with the sound of hia voice. Duran glanced at her and noticed that she was practically buzzing with energy. She looked like a little blonde hummingbird flitting from idea to idea that buzzed around in her head. He felt the irony of the situation for he was as rhythmic and meticulous as that of a machine whose cold and metallic nature had no place with the majestic movement of a hummingbird.

"Where do you live?" He inquired, ending her game again.

She gave him instructions, falling back onto the leather of his seat with a sigh. "I'll take you home," he answered. Driving towards her home as slowly as he could for although he would never admit it, he did not want her to leave. He felt strange with her, different then with Rachel.

Perhaps that was the problem, she was not Rachel. She would never fit with him: Rachel was the key to his factory. Rio was the tornado that would knock down his factory. Rachel was the consistency of the waves rushing onto the shore, in and out. Rio was the tsunami that would destroy his town. Rachel was reliable lights that would come on as he flicked the switch and Rio was the hurricane that would knock out the power. Rachel was sun, ever glowing and ready. Rio was the moon, he didn't know what stage she was in. Rachel was the woman that made sense and Rio defied all logic.

Don't be illogical, Duran.