Nowhere Girl

Chapter Nine: Getting Better

I lie on my back staring up at the painted ceiling of Auri's room. Seeing where she lives and meeting the people she lives with makes I realise that I barely know a thing about her. Aside from the fact that her favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla, and that she hates wars and loves flowers. And she makes awesome cupcakes.

There are just so many things I have no clue about. For instance, what does she do when she's not with me? What fills her time? Does she have a job? How did she end up staying with these people - Sadie, Jojo, Max, Lucy, and Prudence, none of whom seem to have any connection to each other? I first met her in Hamburg. How did she get from Hamburg to New York? What was her past? Hell, I don't even know how old she is, I don't even know her last name.

And in contrast, she knows everything about me. I've poured out so much of my past and my life to her, I've told her things about my thoughts and feelings that I haven't told other people, mainly because they wouldn't care enough, but also because she knows exactly how much to listen, and when to say what. On that one night we met in Hamburg, she told me more than she's ever told me in the weeks we've been together since.

Maybe it was because she thought she'd never see me again; maybe she was just less introverted then. But there's one thing I know: unless that barrier comes down, this is not going to work. I need to know. I need to fill that gap.

But I also know that there's got to be a reason why she holds back. And I know that she's got her boundaries, and I can't push them too far, because she's not the kind of girl that begs you to come back. Free and spirited she may be, but if her natural instinct is to run, I won't be able to stop her. I can't risk losing her.

I decide that this can all wait for later.

Instead, I sit up, running a hand through my hair, and see Auri with her back towards me, doing something to the wall. I pull the tie-dyed bedsheet off myself, not caring that I'm naked, and go over to see what she's doing. She must know that I'm standing behind her, but she doesn't acknowledge my presence: she's concentrating too hard on what she's doing, which is - painting a figure. From the looks of its mop-topped hair and guitar, it's got to be me. Well ... it could also be George or Paul, since its face isn't painted, but I'm just going to assume its me. I grin and wrap my arms around her waist. She turns in them and pecks my lips, then draws back; she trails her paint-tipped blue fingers across my bare chest, tracing those psychedelic swirls that always make me feeling like floating away on a tide of rainbows. She draws patterns on my skin, the smooth paint unraveling under her graceful fingertips, shaping flowers and swirls. Then she giggles, that bell-like sound that makes my heart lift. She raises her lit brown eyes to meet mine, and I press my lips to her pink bow-shaped ones. 'I love you,' I tell her, pulling back.

'I love you,' Auri says, smiling. I smile too. Then I say, 'I want to know.'

'Know what?'

'I want to know everything about you,' I say earnestly. 'I don't know anything. I don't know where you're from, I don't know what you do in your spare time, I don't even know your last name!'

Auri just sighs, tiredly. 'John ... why?'

'Because I love you,' I say fiercely. She doesn't meet my eyes; she's looking at something over my shoulder. 'I don't-' she begins, but I cut across her, 'Look, I know you don't like telling people stuff like that, and I know that you've never been in a relationship like this, but this is how it works! What is so wrong with letting me in?'

'I ... I don't know how to,' she whispers, barely audible.

'I'll show you,' I say, gripping her wrists in my own. 'Auri, I love you and I want to know you properly. Don't shut me out, please,' my voice drops, 'Let me in.'

Slowly, her eyes raise to meet my pleading ones. She glances reflexively away, then meets them again. Reads my expression, my pleading face, her eyes full of uncertainty. Finally, she whispers, 'I'll try.'

'Alright,' I say authoritatively. I sit on her mattress and she sits cross-legged opposite me. 'We'll start with this. Full name, date of birth, place of birth.'

'John, do we have to do this?' whines Auri.

'Yes,' I state firmly.

Her hand slides to my collar, the tips of her fingers grazing my skin make me shiver; her eyes glint mischievously. 'No!' I exclaim, catching myself. I grab her hands and firmly trap them between my own. Auri glares at me. 'Fine,' she says. 'Jeanette Avery, 17th July, 1944, born in a caravan of traveling gypsies.'

'Traveling gypsies?' I ask. She nods. 'My mum was one of them. No clue who my father is.'

'So how did you grow up?'

'We traveled around till I was about 7, then my mum decided I'd better get some school, so we settled in some neigbhourhood and I went to school.'

'Where was that?'

'I don't know,' yawns Auri, unconcerned, stretching out on the mattress. She seems bored of the whole business, but I'm determined to know more. 'What kind of school was it?'

'A convent,' she says, distastefully. 'No colours, no creativity ... after living seven years on the road, it was so boring!' She flicks some hair out of her eyes, thoughtfully. 'And no boys,' she adds, 'An all-girls school does get to be a bore.' I chuckle. 'How did you end up here?'

'Well, I went to San Francisco first, with flowers in my hair, and then I heard that New York was fun, so I came here, and Sadie and Jo-Jo and all took me in.' She grins. 'Good enough for now,' I say, pecking her lips. 'Thanks, babe. That wasn't so bad, was it?'

She scrunches her face. 'I guess not,' she says thoughtfully.