Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Song: I Can't Help Falling In Love With You (Cover)- Paulo Lim
"Did I show you the record shop?" Bella asks after around five minutes of happy silence.
"I don't think so," I reply, knowing that she hasn't.
"Oh, you simply have to see it," she says, "you have to." Pulling me away from our current course, she delves into the next right-hand turn and onto a much smaller street. I can see our destination long before we cross the threshold. "Vinyl Trees' Records" is lit up with tasteful city lighting and a small 'open' sign in the doorway. The large shop window is covered in original records, newer CDs and musical instruments in a beautiful arrangement that entices me effortlessly. Looking wistfully at the second-hand guitars, I am interrupted by my equally beautiful Bella.
"It's where I come when I'm sad. I put a good song on my iPod and browse through a hundred years' worth of music," she explains and I nod my head in assent. I understand completely the need for an escape from drama-filled life into music, having spent many a hard time at my piano, composing my feelings into melodies that no one else would ever hear. Somehow it's always felt better to have it out in the open, to have my problems drift away as the last notes ring out. She pulls me inside the threshold, promising that we won't be long.
"Hi Bella," the middle-aged, eccentric man behind the counter calls.
"Hi Harry," she replies. "We're only passing through."
"Ok, call me if you need anything," he says, igniting something red within me. It's only Bella's hand in mine that reminds me that I'm the lucky one she's chosen. Harry is merely being helpful, I tell myself. It doesn't mean I feel any less jealous about the part of Bella he has. I swallow a lump in my throat and inwardly tell myself to stop overreacting.
"Sure, sure," Bella shrugs. She makes her way elegantly over to the indie records section, pulling me with her as though we are a pair of magnets. I stand beside her, searching through hundreds of records with no idea what I'll find, only hoping that Bella will still be there when I look to my left. She sifts through a huge pile of records next to the wall before claiming her prize.
"Here it is," she says, dusting off the cover of the second-hand vinyl. She walks over to the record player to put it on. Taking great care of it, as if it were made of glass rather than plastic, she blows the dust off of the ridged texture of the black circle.
"This is my favourite vinyl in the shop. Every time I come in, I debate whether or not to buy it but ultimately decide that it belongs here, on the shelf where anyone can come along and enjoy it. It's the sort of song which I feel everyone must hear lest the world implode upon itself from pure lack of musical genius," she giggles. I fucking love her. Her intelligence, her beauty and her down-to-earth genius have me stunned.
"Well, if you play it to me, we're one step closer to saving the world from implosion," I say as she breaths a relieved sigh, a sigh of appreciation for my acceptance of her quirks. She moves with unconscious grace and femininity to put it on.
"I can't describe how wonderful it is. It's an acoustic cover of the most beautiful song." Placing the needle down, she smiles at me.
Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you?
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you?
Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand
Take my whole life to
For I can't help falling in love with you.
The record continues to play, crackling from wear and tear, but I am no longer listening. The ambiance of the small shop is overwhelming, the stories contained in each record threatening to suffocate me in a pleasurable sea of wonder. I push a stray lock of chocolate hair behind her ear, lingering with my fingers caressing her cheek. Her skin is so soft and the warmth of her cheeks sends a similar sensation to deep inside my core. She smiles. Her eyes light up. I'm falling. I'm falling of the precarious boundaries of my control that I've exercised so far tonight, so as to spare a very public display of affection. Without saying a word, Bella leans forwards and presses her lips to mine and I'm gone. Long gone.
With no thought for the fact that this is a very public place and no thought for Harry, the shop owner, I devour her beauty. We sink to the floor, neither of us coherent enough to hold ourselves up, and don't resurface until the album has played out. The final notes linger in the magical atmosphere of the place, our subdued cue to leave the atmosphere of the cosy shop.
"Home?" I ask.
"Home," she repeats, and we walk onwards, anticipating the evening to come.
So I love record stores, and thought they would too, thanks for the constant support, it really does mean a lot. Laura xxx :)
