Thursday, February 16, 2023

Evil Eye Guy

Markwildyr.com, Post #234

 Clip Art courtesy of Deviant Art:

 


Last week we met Karl and AA in their first year of college. Karl’s an unusual fellow, he has a brown left eye and a green right one. Which gave rise to rumors he can cast an evil eye curse on those who irk him. Lo and behold, one day on the tennis court, our evil eye guy discovers he has a yen for the handsome AA. He feigns drunkenness and lolls against his friend on the drive home.

 

* * * *

EVIL EYE GUY

 Despite a headache the next morning, I showed up at the tennis court at the appointed time. AA said nothing about last night, but I caught him shooting me glances now and then. Maybe he always did that when we were on the court, but somehow it seemed different.

“What?” I asked him once.

He averted his gaze. “Nothing.”

Mentally, I raged at him. He’d said we had to talk this morning, so why didn’t he talk? I couldn’t initiate it because I was supposedly in la-la-land when he muttered the words. Maybe he was waiting until after the game.

I settled down to playing, but my mood didn’t improve. It took a dive when one of the opponents declared my return went long. It hadn’t. It landed right on the line. Incensed, I stalked to the net and voiced my objections. Things escalated. AA tried to calm me.

“Don’t give me that look,” the frigging liar on the other side of the net said. “I’m not afraid of your damned ‘evil eye.’ Which one is it, by the way?”

Out of control, I pointed at my green one. “This one. And that’s the one I’m looking at you with, jerk.”

“You wanna play or you wanna cry.”

I served one of the best aces of my life, bringing the score to deuce. Then I got off two more and ended the game. The tall bastard flashed me the finger before he and his partner walked away. They weren’t out of sight before a skateboarder plowed into the guy and sent him tumbling. From the way he nursed his right wrist, he was out of commission for a while.

Unable to hide a grin, I looked at my companion. His eyes were clouded, wary.

“Karl?” he gasped before racing to see if he could help the injured guy.

What the hell did “Karl?” mean? Wasn’t my fault. The skateboarder apologized ten times for crashing into the guy, but true to the asshole’s character, the injured payer ignored the contrition and bellowed for all to hear he was out of commission for the upcoming competition. But he paused long enough to give me a long look, concentrating on my right, green eye longer than necessary. Did Dumbo think I’d evil eyed him?

After the excitement died down, AA declined my invitation for a drink at the Student Union Building, which was odd. We usually celebrated wins and mourned losses at the little café in the SUB. As I walked back to the dorm alone, I mulled over the last few days. AA’d been acting funny—maybe not funny, but definitely off-kilter—ever since our last visit to the bar. My mood dropped when I realized the cause. I’d gone too far. Practically groped the guy under the guise of being drunk. It came down to one thing. I was in love with the guy, while he was in “like” with me. I’d messed up royally. If I couldn’t be… well, intimate with him, I desperately wanted him as a friend. A buddy. Shit! Next, he’d probably start finding reasons to pull out of our tennis games.

Sure enough, the next Saturday, he begged off, and I had to play singles. It was an odd day. I’d get fired up—incensed, I guess you’d say—and play like a tiger or down so deep in self-pity I played like a sloth with a hole in his racket.

Before the weekend, I backed him in a corner and promoted another trip to the bar, but I resolved to limit myself to a single Long Island Tea and try to repair the relationship. The same blonde and brunette showed up and gravitated to our table. For a while, it looked as if my fear of a foursome would materialize, but neither of us was good company, so they wandered away to a more energetic couple of guys.

Shortly after they left, the rowdies at the table next to us worked themselves into a fight. One of them lurched out of his seat and backed into our table, spilling a good part of the drink I’d been nursing since we got here.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Watch it, man.”

AA laid a hand on my arm. “Cool it, Karl. He didn’t mean anything.”

The two combatants moved outside, pulling half the patronage with them to witness the upcoming fight. Neither of us moved.

AA drained his drink. “Come on, let’s go. I’m beat tonight.

From the way he avoided looking at me, I knew it was finished. I’d never have AA as a lover, and he’d slip from being a friend to simply an acquaintance. My gut went hollow.

As we drove back to campus with neither of us speaking, I decided to try to salvage the situation… at least the friendship part.

“Pull over, will you?” I said as we approached a small park. “We need to talk.”

He obeyed and switched off the engine. Then he resolutely stared straight out the windshield.

“I owe you an apology, man.”

He sort of started and turned to look at me. “For what?”

“For something,” I said, uncertain how to approach the thing. “I figure it was what happened at the bar the other night. Or at least on the way home. I was… well, I was outta line.”

“How?”

“I was all over you.”

He snorted. “Hell, you were drunk.”

“Kinda,” I admitted.

He gave me a sharp look. “What do you mean, kinda?”

“Well, maybe not as drunk as I acted.”

“You mean….”

I nodded. “Yeah, I wasn’t totally out of it. I knew… I knew… Well my hand kinda wandered. Sorry if I offended you.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Offended me? Hell, Karl, I was hoping you’d go all the way and give me a grope. Drunk or sober. It didn’t matter.”

A thrill ran up my back. “You wanted me to?”

“Like crazy. All I could do to keep from grabbing your hand and clapping it to me.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Figured you were just looped and didn’t know where your hand was. Don’t you know what a good-looking sucker you are? Hell, when you play net, I have trouble watching the ball instead of you.”

“M… me too.” I felt a load lift from my shoulders. My heart pounded. I reached for him, but he put up his hands as if to fend me off, sending me into a downer.

“But….” My voice faltered and died.

“I’d like to, Karl. Hell, man, I ache to. But… but….”

“But what?”

He turned to stare out the windshield again. “It’s the other thing, man.”

“What other thing.”

“Your eyes.”

“Might not be the most attractive thing about me,” I said. “But they’re not all that bad.”

“They’re beautiful man, but so is a coral snake.”

“A coral snake! What’re you talking about? Make sense.”

“Just saying because they’re beautiful, doesn’t mean they aren’t… well, dangerous. You know, evil.”

I would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been so serious. “They’re just eyes, man. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

“At what I’m about to say. My grandmother used to tell me about this old woman she knew who had the Evil-Eye. She could do things, man. She’d just look at a guy, and he’d go walk off a cliff or out in front of a car.”

“You think I do that?”

“I’ve heard the stories, you know, from guys who knew you back home. They told me about all the things that happened to people who pissed you off. And then the other day on the tennis court, you got mad at that guy and threatened him with your green eye. A minute later, he was outta commission.”

“I was just joking. Putting him in his place.”

“Were you? Maybe you don’t even know you can put the evil-eye on a guy. But you can. I saw it.”

“My eye? You want to get together. I want to get together. But we can’t because of my eye?”

“Can’t help the way I feel, Karl. One day you might get pissed at me about something, and I’d walk around waiting for a catastrophe.

“So we can’t make love because of my eye? Can’t even be friends because of my frigging green eye?”

“Sorry,” he said.

The passenger cabin turned silent while I thought furiously. My first crush, and I couldn’t even touch him because of his frigging grandmother’s stories and my one green eye. Didn’t make sense. Then I looked over at my dejected friend and cleared my throat.

“AA. Let’s go home. And tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock, I want you to meet me for lunch at the SUB. After that, we’re gonna go back to my room and try out things we’ve been thinking about but not talking about. Okay?”

“I dunno, Karl.”

“Trust me. At least meet me at the SUB.

He started the motor. “Okay. I can promise that.”

****

The next afternoon, AA walked over to my table at the SUB and came to a dead stop. “What’s this?”

I adjusted the eye patch over my right eye and smiled. “My solution to our problem.”

He laughed as he slid into the seat across from me. “So you’re gonna cover that evil green eye.”

“You can’t see it, it can’t cast a spell over you.”

“You’re going to wear it every time we meet, huh?

“Maybe not every time, but whenever the brown one looks  at you with lust, the green one gets covered.”

He smiled broadly. “Might work.”

Our legs touched under the table as we ate a light lunch, and then we went to my room, locked the door, and did things we didn’t even know were possible. Wonderful things. Marvelous things. Things rife with muscle contractions, electrical discharges and gobs of milky-white fluids.

 

* * * *

Lust… love sometimes drives one on ingenuity, right? Hope the two are happy in their relationship.

 The print versions of anthologies Wildyr Tales, More Wildyr Tales, are now available. The third anthology, Gabacho and More Wildyr Tales, is out as an Ebook, with print version to follow soon.

 My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

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Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

  

Mark

 New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time. 

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