Past Lives, Present Tense by Anthology

Author:Anthology [Anthology]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

Eye of the Day

Janet Berliner

“Mata Hari, ‘eye of the day’ in Malaysian,

is symbolic of the sun.”

—Nucore International Files

Eve Sunn led an idyllic life. At least that was what everyone thought. Everyone, that is, except Eve, who sat at Mission Ranch Bar, drinking single malt scotch and contemplating the downside.

She was nearly forty years old and what did she have? Raised in Carmel Valley, the product of private schools. She played a sound game of tennis and a reasonable game of golf. She had a membership to Pebble Beach Country Club, a psych degree from Golden Gate University, a shingle hanging outside her Skyline home-office, and a circle of friends who bored her to tears with their homogenized attitudes and lack of ability to focus on anything except the male-female ratio on the Peninsula, who drove which car, who did or didn’t sleep with whose wife.

Carmel, she thought, taking some pride in the definition, was nothing but an empty chocolate box. The outer design was gorgeous; the inside contained nothing substantive. What she needed was a change, some excitement in her life beyond staying home, doing her nails, and watching old, colorized Garbo movies. Not that she’d ever give up watching Garbo’s Mata Hari, which she owned, but enough was enough. There had to be something else, and a way to gather the courage to take advantage of it.

The real truth was—she ordered another scotch—she was no different from the rest of them. She had spent her life too chicken to take risks that might perturb her comfortable little existence.

She hummed along with the bar pianist’s lightweight rendition of “Jamaica Farewell.” Harry Belafonte owns that song, she thought, remembering the concert she’d attended at a remote California winery. He had turned the stage into a beach, the hills into the tropics. Old or young, he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

“Would you look at who just walked in,” the slightly overweight but attractive woman on the stool next to Eve said. “I wouldn’t mind getting into those britches.” She sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, I’m not his type. He goes for tall, skinny, dirty blondes like you.”

Automatically, Eve swiveled her barstool around, only to find herself staring into the craggy face of Carmel’s celebrity ex-mayor. He smiled at her, and crooked his finger in a “Come on a my house” gesture. She made a half motion forward, then swiveled back to face the bottles that lined the mirrored bar. She watched him survey the room, shrug, turn on his heel, and leave.

“Are you crazy?” the woman next to her said. “You got something better to do?”

“Who needs Clint Eastwood?” Eve said. Inside her head, she answered herself. You do, you fool. Minutes ago you were bemoaning your boring life. So what do you do when someone fascinating comes along and shows interest in you—all right, in your body—you act like a chicken-shit virgin.

Irritated with herself, Eve went outside for a smoke. It was raining, as usual, not hard enough to send her back inside, just enough to dampen her hair and trickle down the neck of her dress.

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