The Best Mixed CD (that I've ever had)
Track Three- Stolen
Apologies for the delayed update. Have been on holiday and busy with uni.
Anyway, the song here is Stolen by Dashboard Confessional and I recommend people listen to it if they can, it's my favourite song at the moment and is just beautiful.
When he realises he wants her it's too late.
She walks up to him in the morning and immediately he can tell something is up. She hasn't started getting ready for work and she's wringing her hands together in a desperate kind of fashion.
"Ray?" her voice is quiet yet demanding of his attention.
He immediately looks up from drying his cereal bowl.
"I have something to tell you."
He raises his eyebrows expectantly and it takes her a while to say what she wants to.
"I'm getting married."
The bowl he's holding drops and smashes on the floor. Neela jumps in shock but he hardly registers it. "Married? To who, Gallant?"
"No, to Tom Cruise." Even when she's nervous she manages sarcasm. "Of course to Michael, who else?"
He struggles to find the right words to say. "When?" and he hopes desperately that her answer is a year or ten.
"Today."
He's pretty sure that if he had another bowl in his hands that would be on the floor by now too. His face contorts into a frown. "When did you decide this? Yesterday?" And he means it jokingly.
She nods.
He gives out a bitter laugh. "Neela, when I said you had to be more spontaneous I didn't mean like this," he says, thinking back to their conversation a few days ago when he had told her that her idea of being spontaneous was having chicken sandwiches instead of her usual tuna. Neela had been indignant that it wasn't the only spontaneous thing she did. Apparently she was right.
"Why so soon?" he demands to know.
"Because it seems like the right thing to do." And even he can tell she doesn't quite believe her own words.
They don't say anything for a while. He's too shocked and she's too anxious, but finally she breaks the silence. "Will you come? To the wedding, I mean. I would really appreciate it if you were there."
And the very words themselves feel like a dagger to his heart.
He nods, slowly at first. "I'll be there. Anything for my roomie," he quips, but the smile that follows doesn't quite reach his eyes.
We
watch the season
Pull up its own stakes
And catch the last
weekend
Of the last week
Before the gold and the glimmer have
been replaced
Another sun soaked season fades away
He stands in front of the mirror analysing the man reflecting back at him. His hair is messed up no matter how many times he tries to tame it. But it's not that which is worrying him; it's the haunted look in his eyes that just won't go away. He reckons it's not something he can get rid of easily. He buttons up his shirt and tries to remember the last time he looked this smart. A small smile tugs at his lips. It was the very first time he met Neela. The smile quickly fades and he gathers himself together. One final look and he's off to his best friend's wedding.
And as he watches the entire ceremony from the sidelines, a song that he wrote for her plays over and over in his head. It fits this scene perfectly and as he watches her, in his mind he's singing words she'll never get to hear.
Invitation
only grant farewells
Crash the best one
Of the best ones
Clear
liquor and cloudy eyed
Too early to say goodnight
He doesn't hear the vows that Neela and Gallant recite because he's too busy watching her, mesmerised. She's wearing a white sari and beaming with such pride she's achingly beautiful. And as he looks on he thinks back to the exact moment he realised he liked her more than just a friend.
You have stolen my heart
He'd invited her to one of his performances and surprisingly she had agreed, even though she wasn't a "his type of music" fan. He was ready long before she was (black shirt, ripped jeans and hair sticking up at all angles-sorted) where as she had practically thrown her whole wardrobe around her room trying to find an appropriate outfit. He had waited uncharacteristically patiently, listening in amusement to such comments like, "Oh God, I look like a bloody Christmas tree" and "Bloody hell I'm dressed like a whore." She'd finally settled on a black off-the-shoulder top, dark blue denim jeans and heels. She'd also gone for the whole smoky-eyed thing look, and in his opinion she looked stunning.
When he was playing on stage his eyes had immediately sought hers, and there she was, centre of the room, watching him with the utmost captivation, big grin on her face. She'd waved and he had nodded in return; his heart beating erratically and it wasn't just because of the music, he realised. It was because of her. Everything about her. And from then on, he'd never look at her the same way again. He had fallen for Neela and didn't have a clue as to how the hell it happened.
I watch you spin around in your highest heels
You are the best one of the best ones
After the brief wedding ceremony everybody heads over to Ikes for a celebratory drink. Abby pushes the newlyweds to the centre of the room and forces them to dance, their first as husband and wife. The two of them are glowing as they slow dance and Ray immediately thinks back to the very first dance they shared together.
It was after she had seen him play. She had immediately come up to him after his performance.
"You were amazing!" she had marvelled. "It sounds nothing like all that noise you make that stops me from sleeping." And he wasn't even insulted by her comment.
At that moment another band starts playing.
"Dance with me?" she pleaded and before he could protest, he'd been dragged out onto the dance floor amid mutterings of hating to dance.
At first he had been uncertain of how to touch her or even look at her, afraid that she'd see right through him and find out she knew how he felt about her. And he couldn't have that. But before he knew it, she was leading the way and he was spinning her around and around and at that moment in time nothing mattered but her.
The scene melts in his mind and he's back to watching the happy couple, perfectly content in every way. He feels his heart rip; like someone is taking a memory that should be his. And it dawns on him: there will be no more hoping, no more wishing and no more dancing.
You have stolen my heart
Giving her up felt like the hardest thing he ever had to do.
When Neela comes home from one of her very first days back at work, Abby hands her a key.
It looks vaguely familiar but her tired can't place it. "What's this for?" she questions.
"That," Abby starts, "is the key to banish your problems."
Neela raises an eyebrow.
"You don't recognise it at all?" Abby is surprised.
Neela looks at it and searches through the thick cobwebs of her mind for an answer.
Hey eyes widen in surprise. "It's my old apartment key." She doesn't recognise it without its keyring.
Abby nods, a small smile creeping upon her face.
"But I thought the apartment was up for lease?"
"Nobody wanted it."
Neela looks at Abby and then looks at the key and back to Abby again. "I don't understand."
"Let's just say you have some good friends who care way too much about you to let something important to you fall away."
Neela is rendered speechless and it's a while before she goes over to hug Abby.
"You really are brilliant," she enthuses.
Abby hugs her back tightly. "You go over to the apartment, do a little bit of soul searching. Maybe that will allow you to finally go and see Ray."
When Neela opens the door to her old apartment, she realises it has been a long time since her accident. Nine months too long and nine months since she had told Ray she'd see him. She's just never felt ready and somehow, amongst the hurt and the pain, she doesn't think she'll ever be.
Before the gold and the glimmer fades away
Another sun soaked season takes it place
It's cold in the apartment. Bitterly cold. Neela struggles to switch on the light and when she does, the light that falls on the place isn't enough to drain away the darkness. She never thought their- his- (who's?) apartment would ever feel this cold, or be this dark or seem so unwelcome.
She takes a few steps in and shuts the door behind her, immediately wishing she had brought Abby, but this was something she had to do by herself. It takes a while for her to realise that everything pretty much looks the same. Ray hadn't moved back the furniture and most of his stuff was still left behind, presumably he hadn't been able to take them with him. There are cobwebs everywhere though, and all the furniture is covered in dust. It felt to her like a ghost house; as if someone had died and taken away all the positive vibrations. But they had both died in a way, hadn't they? They were no longer the same people who used to live so freely in this house.
She moves over to the kitchen. The photo on the fridge is the exact same photo as the one on the cover of her CD and she finds it hard to tear her eyes away from it. They both have the biggest smiles on their faces and his arm is wrapped around her protectively. The photo had been taken at the point in time when they had started being friends and not just roommates. Things had been much simpler then. When did things become so complicated? She wonders. Maybe after she got married, or surely the very instance she agreed to move in with him.
She wasn't supposed to fall in love with Ray. He annoyed the hell out of her, was cocky and arrogant and said things that drove her down right insane. He held the power to control her emotions like no one else could; anger to happiness to jealousy in 0 to 60 seconds. He wasn't supposed to be her type. She wasn't supposed to fall for the guy everyone else went for. But if she was being honest with herself, he was the type of man she'd secretly wished for but never dreamt of getting. Yes, she'd most definitely noticed him the very first time she met him and as much as she had tried to resist it, she had fallen for him. It just took the wrong time and place to finally realise it.
Neela moves away from the photo, fingers lingering over it and by compulsion heads towards his room. She'd never really been in it before, bar those few times she'd barged into his room to tell him to shut up playing his music when he knew full damn well she was trying to sleep. Listening to him play the same chords over and over again used to drive her crazy and she smiles at the memory. He had this terrible habit of walking around the apartment shirtless, she thinks. And scattering his clothes everywhere. She wonders how she coped with it all the while.
His room is typically Ray: a mess, with obscure band posters and a black silk duvet cover. His unwanted clothes and other possessions are strewn across the room and she's surprised to find his guitar left behind. She never thought that Ray's room would ever be a place of sanctuary for her; she'd never liked the smell wafting from it in the first place. Yet somehow she finds it hard to leave. She sits down on his unmade bed and is overcome with the strongest sense of him. She misses him so much, now more than ever, but refuses to cry. Instead she inhales, imagining she can smell his spicy scent, closes her eyes and falls back onto the bed, amongst the dust and memories. She dreams he is right beside her, playing his guitar and singing the most beautiful song about stolen hearts and celebration.
Our dreams assured and we all
…we will sleep well
When she wakes up a few hours later disorientated and slightly lost, she drops his pillow on the floor in confusion. And gasps.
Underneath it is the t-shirt she had so long ago taken from him.