Far too many JC's have been consumed. Cigs keep reappearing as soon as another disappears, permanently engulfing us in our own little smoky cloud. There are more and more amused smirks from Jody behind the bar, but somewhere along the way I stopped looking and stopped caring. Words have been spoken. So many words. So many intimate, private words. Words I shouldn't be let in on, I'm way underage and this is a movie I should not be allowed into. Someone should have checked my I.D. at the door.
But they didn't. She didn't. And I've kept it all right in my pocket. I've buried the truth right in the secret folds of my wallet, holding onto it for dear life. But the opposite stands for Ashley. The direct opposite. It seems like with every sip, she just oozes more truth. Countless "God, I've missed you"'s and "I forgot how beautiful you really are"'s have been thrown to me from her. And with each one I feel more intoxicated, more wrapped up in this moment. Wrapped up in her. So wrapped up I'm starting to wish the drinks had the same effect on me. That they made me want to be honest, that they made it easier for me to do the inevitable. But I'm not that lucky. No way. The dull taste only pushes the truth further below my bed.
And even in my drunken stupor, even through the smoky haze, I can still see it clearly. I can still see the impending doom resulting from this night. Resulting from my inability to be honest with the one person who deserves it the most.
"Well, I guess that's it."
I blink out of my little drunken trance and blankly stare at her, a crooked smile on her face. I finally turn to my right, catching sight of chairs being stacked on tables by some other staff members, their names having left me as soon as I was given them.
"Closing time." She exhales, with her last Parliament puff. Symbolically stumping it in the cozy ash tray. Just another body in a growing graveyard.
One might think they went to war on our little night here.
"Oh...right." My defenses immediately rise, safely bordering whatever little vulnerability I was just exposing. Disappointed the night is ending, beyond deflated that my time with her is winding down. My insecurities are of course escalating, believing she wants this to end. Without a second thought, I hastily grab my fleece, ready to make a quick getaway. Searching out the appropriate sleeves behind my back, I find the simple task to be anything but. She's giggling now and I'm sure it's from my fumbling right hand attempting to push through an inside out sleeve. Exhaling with my weak little heart, I clumsily slide my way out of the booth.
Obviously this will make it all the more easy…
Unsteadily shuffling back a few steps, my arms spread out to brace me on whatever furniture they can find.
…Or maybe not.
Suddenly I feel two hands on my hips, holding me steady. A hushed "Hey there" filling the space between Ashley and me. And somehow the space decreases. The air stifles. She smiles down at me, I smile back at her a few inches above me. The heels beneath her jeans giving her the extra height. Before I realize it, my own hands find their way on to her waist, keeping me at a standstill. Keeping her right there; so close to me. Surprisingly I need the support.
Really...I swear it's not just to get a glimpse at what she feels like.
She lightly chuckles as she reaches behind me, "Here" She sweetly says, helping me find those pesky fleece sleeves I've been struggling with. I find the little gesture unbelievably kind. More than I probably should, yet I'm too drunk to realize it. Too smitten to care. She steps back from me, same goofy smile pinned across her face, and it looks like she's hesitant.
"Um, well I have to grab something from the back." Her thumb points behind her, as if to further display where she's going. Now, any sober person would know to just stand and wait for her, would know she's going to come right back. But I'm not any sober person. I'm every drunk person and I immediately feel insecure.
"Oh ok, well this was a lot of fun." The words race from my mouth, all desiring to claim themselves the winner. I attempt to turn quickly and make a dash for the door, but her hand on my arm pulls me back.
"Hey no. You don't have to leave" Suddenly her own insecurities seem to weave their way into her words, "...I mean you can if you want to, but I'm going to be right back. I thought we could still hang out." A shy smile crosses her features, "...you know talk some more?"
"Oh." A relieved smile fills my face, one I'm sure she notices, as I giggle. "Yeah. Yeah I'd like that." I finish softly, mirroring her giddy lips. "I'll just wait outside."
She looks at me slightly concerned, and I quickly add "I just need a little fresh air. You know?"
And it looks like she does know as she nods and let's out a soft "Ahhh" before her brows furrow somewhat. Turning her body halfway, one foot leading her towards the back while the other faces me. It looks like she's contemplating saying something.
"Just don't..." a sly smirk peeks through, "...run away on me." And like that, before I can come back with my own flirtatious remark, she's already walking away. Leaving a blazing trail behind her, burning my cheeks a crimson red as I watch her saunter to the back. I don't know if it's the drinks, or the heels, or if she's doing it solely because she knows I'm watching. But right in this moment I'm turned on. I'm really fucking turned on.
Yeah, bout that fresh air…
I push through the front door, finding the cool night air unbelievably refreshing. Just like diving into the freezing ocean on a hot summer day. At first it's a bit jarring, your senses swimming, trying to find solid ground. But then suddenly you find the peace, you catch up to the new atmosphere, and it's perfect. It's just what you needed.
I practically shuffle over to the front of the Music Box, leaning against the brick wall between the panel glass windows. Tilting my head back against the cold surface, a cigarette somehow finding it's favorite home between my lips.
Sighing with a strange mixture of content and anxiety, I go over what happened tonight, what was said. Even now, just mere hours after it all, there are patches missing. I can't recall it all. I can't distinguish between what really happened and what my mind wants to be true. And that is never a good sign. Never a good sign for a promising morning after.
She told me about New York. About becoming so close with Chelsea. I think I heard "I love that fucking girl" roughly thirty times during that conversation. She opened up about dating. She basically undressed herself for me in the open bar as she honestly, perhaps too honestly, admitted she hasn't really dated anyone. That it wasn't her thing. That she couldn't find a reason for it. I think Jack was egging her on for that omission. I just sat there in the thickening silence, until Mr. Daniels gave me a nudge too and I agreed. Peer pressured into admitting I didn't date anymore either. I swear she looked completely relieved. I swear I heard her sigh. But then again, the events are all loose in my memory. They're all traced in the sand, just waiting for another wave to come and wash them away.
It's surprising how much a person can get away with in a conversation where the other one does most of the talking. When the other person has a lot to say. Because you can just sit there and isten. You don't have to participate, they won't notice, and if there are drinks involved, they won't even care. And our last booth on the left, with out bottomless glasses of booze, was the perfect hiding place for a silent participant like myself. Was the perfect place to be involved and removed at the same time.
I draw in a long drag, feeling that all too comfortable burn as I try and recall something. I hold the smoke deep in my chest as I try to remember something Ashley said. "So what happened to you Spence?" The words ring in my ear, the words coat the smoke now leaving my nostrils. Did she really ask that? I quickly glance to the left, down the street as the fuzzy memory of a tear sliding off her cheek fills my mind. She looked at me so sad. Her eyes shot right through me and with the way they looked at me, it seemed it wasn't an impossible feat. Because they looked at me as if I were an empty shell. As if the clothes on my back were just a pathetic excuse for armor, because I was merely a hollow case. Making it all the more easy to pierce right through the void. I was nothing, and she knew it. She let out a breathy sigh, as another tear fell to the table, bringing my heart with it. I just stared at her with sad eyes, and it only answered her question more. It only let her know that I wasn't right. That I was lost and sad and broken. And I was not the girl she once knew. She closed the silence and reached over to my hand, holding it inside her warm one, thumb softly gliding over my skin. But my memory might be playing another cruel joke on me. Those drinks could've created this scenario right inside my guilty mind.
But then again...then again maybe it did happen.
I face forward, taking in one last hit, glancing down at my feet. Letting out a somewhat bitter laugh at the irony of things. I'm making new memories with this person, this person I erased from my mind, but they're still questionable. After all this, I'm still participating in something that makes me forget. All these new memories could join all the ones I've already lost, and once again, it'd be at my own hands.
"What's so funny?" My eyes shoot up towards her, finding her leaning against the wall on her shoulder. Her white wife beater leaving her soft tan arms bare, allowing them to brush against the rough sides of crumbling brick. As if I needed any more proof that this girl is strong on the outside. As if I needed more evidence that she wears a thick coat. A thick coat I've unfairly gotten her to take off. I've completely and unjustly made her feel safe enough to shed the layer.
I roll my head her way, eyes slowly making their way towards her as I breathe out, "Nothin'." Instinctively, my hug my body tighter. She leans her head against the wall, eyes facing up to the clear sky, and it looks like her mind might be racing as much as mine. "Nice night, huh?"
I look down at a lone beer bottle rolling around the sidewalk, the wind pushing it along, as I whisper,"yeah, it is."
Suddenly, she pushes herself from the wall and walks away from me. I flick my butt to the ground, letting it join that bottle, and turn to follow her. I'm clueless as to where we're heading, but I don't care. However, we don't go far. No, we hardly walk at all, taking the few necessary steps to a door right next to the Music Box's front one. She unlocks it, and holds it open behind her, letting me follow her up the stairs. It's dirty, but not in a gross way. Just in the way that tells you many walks of life have shuffled up these stairs. I'm not sure which floor we turned on, I stopped counting after the second, instead just following her lead. Instead, just getting lost in the hypnotizing sway of her hips, the way they shifted with each step.
We come to her chipped green front door, the numbers 45 staring back at us. I notice the four is slightly crooked and I like it. I like that I'm not the only thing on this earth that's off kilter. Shadowing her inside a dimly lit apartment, she proclaims "Home, sweet home." Flicking a light switch on the wall.
It's a nice place, a really nice place. Swanky flat screen TV and stereo situated in the back corner. Situated in a real entertainment center, nothing like Brynn and my faux one. There are paintings (Chelsea's, no doubt) on the walls, along with some black and white prints. Some with nude women living inside the matting, others of various landscapes. The one holding the outstretched view of an open highway stands out most to my observant and ever curious eyes.
She drops her keys on the kitchen counter as she keeps walking over to the stereo, picking up a lone iPod. I stand there and watch her, watch the ease that seems to ooze from her. Finally her scent wafts around me, finally I pick up on how much her apartment smells like her. Or maybe it's the other way around. Whichever one it is, I love it. I swear one could get drunk off this scent. I swear I already am.
A familiar voice fills the room, it takes me a minute but I realize it's Chris Pureka. Brynn plays her all the time. At first I hated it, but it's grown on me. I think after tonight, it's safe to say, I'll be borrowing Brynn's cd's. It's safe to say that I'll be listening to Miss Pureka a lot more often.
Finally I decide to fully enter her apartment, walking alongside the back of a sofa, as Ashley comes towards me. Lightly brushing by me, her body whispering against mine as she asks, "beer?"
I swallow hard and nod, my eyes already feeling like they're clouding over. And it looks like she knows exactly what she's doing, exactly what effect she's having on me, as I watch her form a cocky smile.
"Well make yourself comfortable." She suggestively calls over her shoulder and I seek relief from the couch. I need to sit down, I need something stronger than my own legs to hold myself up. This apartment is quickly becoming stifling. The alcohol's made me dizzy, the cigarettes have made me lightheaded.
Yeah that's it...nothing to do with the beyond sexy brunette coming my way.
I lean back, letting my legs fall to either side slightly as she slides in next to me, sitting Indian style. Allowing one of her knees to rest on top of my thigh, and I'm suddenly very aware of the contact. Very aware of it practically singing my skin through my jeans.
"Here." She gently offers me a Stella, as she rests her own on the back of the couch, somewhat leaving her arm around me.
"Thanks." I take a much needed first sip and glance behind me to the open kitchen, a counter the only thing keeping it separate from the living room.
"This is a really nice place. I take it the café is doing well?"
Her eyes slightly widen as she laughs, "Well it's not doing badly, but I really have the inheritance from my dad to thank for all this." She looks forward, as if to further prove what "all this" is. I follow her gaze and I'm completely lost. I remember that her dad died, but how could that result in all this?
Oh my god. Ashley Davies...Raife Davies. The CD case from the box. That was her dad.
I smile inwardly, happy I've solved one puzzle all on my own as she lightly chuckles, "Remember it seemed like I'd never turn eighteen? Never get to be on my own, earn that freedom from my mom and Kyla and just everything." She brings her beer down to her lap, fidgeting with the damp label, the condensation making it easier and easier to peel. "Man, that all seems like a million years ago."
As I've done for basically the whole night, I just nod and listen. It's no doubt the safest route. Her smile fades as she brings her eyes back to mine, "Ever wish you could go back there? You know, back to that time?"
I glance down to the arm of the sofa, finding it a safe haven for my uncertainty. For my confusion.
"I don't know." I honestly answer, hugging my beer bottle between my hands, keeping my focus just above her right knee.
"Yeah." She quietly says. "I think about it a lot...and I would. All these people say you can't regret things from your past, that it makes you who you are today. The good and the bad have brought you to this place in your life." She tilts her head back, gaining some comfort from her Stella.
"But I don't know, Spence. I don't know. Here I am sitting on my five hundred dollar couch inside a comfortable apartment in downtown Manhattan, successful business, financial security...the world practically at my fingertips. Finally possessing that freedom I so desperately chased years ago. I have it all, everything I always wanted. And you know what?"
She pauses and surveys the room. Her eyes touch over the walls, the photos, the CD's and DVD's, before she downs another sip and looks back at me.
"I was happier back then. Happier in that world I was so anxious to leave behind. In that world where I thought this..." She raises her hands, showcasing everything around us, "...this was all I wanted and needed."
Her stare falls on my body, I can feel it begging me to return it's glare, so I do. I look into her eyes, her truthful, heart-achingly beautiful eyes, as she goes just where I knew she'd go.
"I was happier in our world, Spence. I was the most happy and free I've ever been when it was just you and me. And the sad part, what makes it all the more sad..." She gives me a weak smile, "...I didn't even know how amazing what we had truly was. I knew it was good. I knew I was lucky and happy. But I didn't know it was fucking incredible. I didn't know that nothing like it would ever come my way again."
She lets out a deep laugh, almost masking her vulnerability as she breathes out "Fuck, I'm getting all heavy and deep." She glances over to me and then flicks her eyes down, breathing out "sorry" before downing the rest of her beer.
I don't know what to say, so I just finish mine too, whispering "it's ok" before the bottle meets my lips.
We remain there, in the stillness of her apartment, Chris Pureka's shaky voice filling the void. Finally she lightly laughs, that warm smile covering her lips again. "Do you remember the time we went camping?..." she tilts her head "...Well more like our sad attempt at camping." Her hand comes to rest on my knee, and I can tell it wasn't her idea, her hand developing a mind of it's own, just falling back to a time where it was nothing but natural. "God we were a sorry pair weren't we? It took us,what, like 2 hours to build that tent?" She genuinely laughs, resting her had back against the couch, "...and we didn't even do it right."
I laugh with her. I laugh because it sounds like a great memory. It sounds like something I wish I'd held onto. She deeply sighs, eyes scanning the ceiling, "I was going out of my mind, like I don't even know how you got me to go along with you in the first place. We both know I'm not the most outdoorsy person..." she smiles over at me, "...thank God you caved and said we could bag the whole camping thing and shack up in some little hotel not too far down the road instead." Still facing me, her eyes fall down towards her hand on my knee, a nostalgic smile covering her lips, "...that was a good night." Her eyes seem to fixate on her fingers softly sweeping over my ripped jeans, continuing so softly, whispering like it's to herself, "...a really good night."
And I feel my heart ache, I feel my chest tighten, cause for the first time I wish I could remember. For the first time I wish I could get the memories back. I finally realize I'm never going to have them again and it hits me like a bucket of ice cold water. I want them. I want them so badly. I miss what I don't remember having and it's killing me. I miss what I'll never remember. I miss what I'll never hold again. I miss what I ultimately decided to give away.
And there's the clincher. That's what does me in.
I fight with all my might to hold the tear back. The one I feel sitting on my eyelid, coming dangerously close to falling over the edge. I'm building a dam and I'm building as quickly as I can. I need to hold back the flood that is daring to pour from my eyes. Keep holding it, keep holding. But I can't any longer, I can't hold it in. I'm not strong enough. I let it slide from my eye, and that's it. That's all it takes. The tears steadily stream from my eyes, the apartment becoming smeared and blurry.
"Spence?" I hear Ash's sweet voice push through my soft sobs. I'm just letting it all go. I bring my hands up to my eyes, fingers tightly pressing against them, now literally building that dam. Literally trying to hold back the liquid that is just effortlessly pushing past my fingers, and gliding down my cheeks.
"I'm..." a few shaky sobs, "...sorry."
I'm like a train, the more I get going the faster they come, and the harder they are to stop. It just keeps escalating, my shoulders starting to shake as my lips quiver. I feel her wrap her arms around my trembling body, pulling me close into the comfort of her arms. I swear I even feel her crying, I swear I hear her hushed "I know"'s dripping into my ears.
Her wet cheeks slide against my wet hands and I feel her sadness over everything she's lost. The years that have slipped away from her. And it hits me. I'm responsible for all she's lost. I'm the one who's making her cry. She doesn't even know I've done this. That I've ruined both our lives with one careless decision.
I have to tell her.
I cry harder. I cry because it's my fault. I cry because soon I'm going to lose this too. I'm going to lose these arms around me. Lose this comfort and safe haven. Lose the one thing that's made me feel happy in the longest time. I'm going to lose her. Lose her all over again.
Slowly she pulls us back onto the couch, our bodies somehow perfectly and comfortably fitting together. Her arms still holding onto my body, hugging me tightly to hers, as my damp face buries into her neck. My tears coming slower and slower as I close my eyes. Finding solace here. Finding peace in the way her chest rises and falls. The way her hand affectionately, safely rubs over my back, beneath my shirt. I wrap my left arm around her small waist, pulling her even closer to me.
A few more random tears here and there, my breathing timing with hers, and I'm almost asleep. I'm leaving all this behind, leaving all the lies and sadness here in this night, in this apartment. Right now I'm between her arms, hugging her side, and I'm safe again. I'm safe here just like this. I'm safe until tomorrow comes. Until the morning sun brightly reveals itself, shining right in my eyes. Shining just like a truth you try to suppress. Just like the truth I've been suppressing. The one I know I have to reveal. The one that will show itself sooner or later.
Cause that's the thing about the truth, it always surfaces. Just pushes right through your windows, opens your eyes, and completely blinds you. And right now as I sleep between Ashley's safe arms, I've got a few more hours. A few more hours before it's morning and it's time to wake up.
Before that sun pushes right through these windows, opens our eyes, and completely blinds us.
