Story Time: Mother’s Les Paul 2

She wasn’t really the type of girl you thought of when the term “classic beauty” came to mind.  Her slender athletic arms were completely covered in color.  Designs snaked their way up and down her skin.  A Koi fish worked its way up her forearm, a dragon consumed itself on her shoulder.  She wore a v neck top that showed a fair, but not trashy, amount of cleavage.  I didn’t let my eyes linger on her chest too long but I could see a gigantic cross dominated the area.  Her legs also had a lot of work on them.  Everything was in vibrant color, everything looked like it was brand new.  Her skin told a multitude of stories on it.  Religious symbols littered her skin like sugar dust on a funnel cake.  No, she wasn’t what someone might consider a “classic beauty.”  There was no discussion however, she was entirely beautiful, and the ink was just one of the many reasons.

I don’t know how long I looked at her.  She must have been used to being stared at because she didn’t say anything.  She merely let me roam about her figure perusing the artwork that must have cost thousands to complete.  I looked at the cross again, and this time she squatted her head down to catch me in the eyes.  “Hi.” She said.  I blinked, coming out of the reverie, I realized what I’d been looking at and what I must have come off as.  “I um.  Hi.”  I managed before laughing nervously while rubbing the back of my neck in embarrassment.   “I love your tattoos.”  I told her.  “Thanks.”  She said.   “I like your music, but I already told you that.”  “Yeah.”   Without any prompting she held her hand out.  “Gabby.”  She said.   I took her hand after returning my smoke to my lips so it wouldn’t be involved.  “I’m Mi..”  “Micheal.  Yeah.”   She completed the rest of my name.  She read my confused expression, then pointed at the strap on my guitar.  I hadn’t the heart to mark my late mothers gift with anything, so I had written my name on the strap instead.  “Ahh.”  I said with a nod.  Made sense she’d probably notice it.  Who knows how long she was sitting there.  “Pleasure to meet you Gabby.”

She hugged herself, it wasn’t cold but a cool breeze could make one chill up with no jacket.  She looked over at me.  “Pleasure is mine.  You play a lot of the classic stuff?”  I shrugged. “Ehh  sometimes, mostly when I think about my dad.”  She nodded.  “He the one who taught you how to play?”   I told her about my mom, and how she’d been the musical influence.  “She even managed to give me this 4 years after she passed away.”  I held out the guitar.  She looked at it wide eyed and touched it gently.  “Wow, a 59′ standard.  Impressive.”  I was the one impressed.  There were plenty of people who knew guitars, I just wasn’t prepared for her to know the year and model.  “Thanks, her name is Anabelle”  She smiled at that.  “I heard you playing on my way and couldn’t help but come see.”  I caught myself smiling again and looked forward at nothing.   Normally, I was pretty comfortable around the girls.  But something about this girl made me off tempo, like she wasn’t just a fan of music.

I was struggling will Math 133, “Statistics for Business Analysis.”  It was a required course, and I had put it off because it had nothing to do with actual math.  It had everything to do with weird business metrics and charting tools that I would never use again.  If I could have skipped class, I would have.  I looked at my watch.  “You can do this.”  I thought to myself.  “You can get a girls number in 30 seconds or less.”   I looked up, and she was gone.  Almost like she’d never been there.  For a moment I thought I might have just daydreamed the whole thing in some sort of sleep deprived state.  Then a piece of white lifted in the breeze and fell into the water of the fountain behind me.  I looked at it, and couldn’t really wrap my mind around what had just happened.  The blue ink was going fuzzy as water started to soak the paper.  I reached out and grabbed it before it sank.  The curly handwriting was still legible.  “Gabrielle 524-8243.”