Twisted Classics by Nanisi Barrett D’Arnuk

Author:Nanisi Barrett D’Arnuk [D’Arnuk, Nanisi Barrett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-13T00:00:00+00:00

Around the Girl in Eighty Ways

The first time I saw her was mid-December at the LGBT Community Center Christmas party. She was chatting with several other women and she was the most beautiful woman in the room. Her long dark hair fell in waves down her back. My heart stopped.

“Who is that woman?” I asked my friend Sharon.

Sharon glanced the way I was looking. “The new pianist for the women’s chorus,” she replied. “I think her name’s Suzanne something-or-other. I understand she just moved here.”

“Nice,” I sighed. “Very nice.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Sharon told me. “You’d have to wait in line.”

“Is she taken?”

“No idea,” Sharon answered. She started toward the food room.

“Wait,” I followed after her. “Wait! Give me a little background.”

Sharon turned back to me. “See the woman she’s talking to?”

I looked.

Sharon grinned. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I hear that every member of the chorus is making a play for her. They’ve all asked her out.”

“So you’re saying I might have a chance?”

Sharon blinked her eyes toward the ceiling. “Snowball in hell.”

Sharon never gave me credit for anything.

“Maybe I’ll join the chorus,” I stated.

“But you can’t sing.”

“Maybe I just need a good tutor,” I protested.

“You have no rhythm and you can’t dance.”

“I can fake it,” I declared adamantly. The chorus was noted for adding dance numbers to their concerts from time to time.

Sharon broke out into a loud laugh. “In your dreams.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” I quoted. I guess I wouldn’t be going to Sharon for help.

* * * *

When I got home that night I searched the internet for everything I could find about Suzanne. There was quite a write-up about her on the chorus website. She’d just moved here from California and she had a master’s degree in Piano from UCLA and there was no record of a roommate or lover. I searched and searched but couldn’t find anything else. Then I logged in and searched her address and phone number. I wrote her address down very carefully.

The next morning I went to the ATM and withdrew a hundred dollars. Then I walked to a nearby florist and had a dozen long-stemmed red roses delivered to her. I paid cash and I didn’t include a card. Let her wonder who sent them. It might intrigue her.

Later that week, I heard through the grapevine that she had received the mysterious delivery but had no idea who would have sent them. Everyone was gossiping about who the mysterious sender might be.

Oh damn! I never thought about that! Now the whole city was involved. I kept my mouth shut. What was I going to do to follow that?

Probably nothing; I’m such a coward. Just let it fade away.

* * * *

Toward the end of January, I went to a Women’s Chorus Winter Concert. I sat there in the audience next to Sharon but was hardly able to take my eyes off Suzanne.

God, she was beautiful. There wasn’t another woman on that stage that could compare with her.

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