“I don’t get it,” she honestly stated. “I know it’s pretty, but I don’t know why it is.”
“It’s the colors,” I said. “They’re analogous with a complement. Notice the great range of greens with blue-greens and yellow-greens. Then there are some reds as well, but not a whole lot.”
“Ooh… you sound like an art geek.”
“I try to be.”
“Did you like, study art?”
“You can say that. But it ain’t really my field.”
“You like Monet then?”
“My favorite modernist. I think it was Cezanne or Gauguin that said that Monet is ‘just an eye – but by God, what an eye!’ When his wife died, he felt a bit guilty that as he was watching her die, all he noticed was how the color of her skin changed to a purple – bluish hue.”
“That sounds deep.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
I felt uneasy for a while. I was talking to someone I barely know. Her blue eyes were drawing me near, like falling into a deep nothingness. I loved her eyes. I asked her if she wants to have coffee. She said yes.
She drank her coffee black, like the way I like it. She sipped the warm drink with both hands holding the cup firmly on opposite sides.
“Stop staring at me.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. You look cute when you drink your coffee.”
“Are you hitting on me?”
I had to laugh. I was never a good flirt anyway, even if I consider myself as one. She giggled like a three-year old girl who got her brother in trouble.
“So how old are you?” she asked.
“Twenty-four – no, wait, I meant twenty-five.”
“Ha-ha! I’m guessing you just turned twenty-five then. You don’t look bad for your age.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Of course, it is, silly.”
“Aren’t you gonna ask about my age?”
“Okay, so how young are you?”
“I’m twenty-one. I can now legally do what I’ve been doing for years!”
“Are you visiting New York? Or are you from around here?”
“From Texas. Visiting a college friend who now lives in Brooklyn. In Williamsburg, I think. I can’t remember. I take the J train, and then drop off at Marcy.”
“Where’s your friend? Why is he not with you?” I placed an emphasis on my “he.”
“She,” she quickly replied. “She’s at work. She works downtown. She took me around for the past few days, but she can’t get out today. She got me this CitiPass for like fifty bucks, I’ll feel bad if I don’t use all my passes, that’s why I went here even if I’m not a big art fan like you.”
I gave her a quick smile. “So you’re not really into art, huh?”
“I can tell you what’s pretty or not. And that’s about it.”
“Do you want to walk around? I know some pretty interesting spots at Central Park.”
She grabbed her cup of coffee, so did I. As I casually moved closer, she grabbed my hand and gave me a grin, with a bit of her tongue showing between her teeth. “You don’t have to shy around me, you know. We both have nothing to lose.”
I took her to Bethesda Terrace, and before the sculpture of an angel, I leaned and tasted coffee in her mouth. She broke away and told me, “the name’s Lisa, by the way.”