Part II – Sound – Deep In My Sighs, Listen to Me
Roger removed his arms from April and wandered over to the loudly buzzing refrigerator. He opened the door, but found nothing of interest, so let it snap shut on it's own.
"Roger, you know I don't like it when you do that," April started. She shuffled over to the kitchen near Roger and filled a relatively clean glass with water from the tap. Roger rubbed the back of his neck and moaned quietly.
"Yeah," he replied distractedly. He tapped his fingernails along the top of the counter and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. April took a loud sip from her glass and peered up at her boyfriend.
"Are you even listening to me?" she asked him harshly.
"No," Roger replied honestly but distracted, absentmindedly flipping the pages in a magazine on the counter.
April's voice became very shrill and loud. "Roger, I could just kill you, you know that? It's like you don't even care about me anymore – it's all you and your drugs and your stupid band! You don't even know what I—"
"Shh…" Roger cut her off slowly. He raised a finger to her lips and took the glass out of her hand, resting it down on the counter beside them. "You know I love you," he said quietly. "I care about you most of all." He moved in closer to April and leaned in, kissing her gently. She kissed him back, but quickly recoiled, stomping over to the other side of her apartment.
"I-I can't keep doing this! You show up here drunk or high every night and I got weak at the knees and fall into your arms anyway! I can't do it anymore! I'm fed up with all your shit. I just… I give up." April threw her arms into the air and bumped her head against the wall, leaning like that until she heard Roger's footsteps coming up behind her. She quickly spun around and pushed him away to the best of her ability.
"Get the fuck off of me, okay? You don't touch me! Go the hell away. I can't do this anymore," she sniffed. She sighed as she held her hands to her eyes to stop the tears.
"I never cry, you know that! I can't even remember the last time I cried! And you come over and fuck everything up for me and make me cry. God, how did I stand you?" she yelled, her feet beating against the floor as she paced around the small apartment.
Roger watched the frail woman stomping around the apartment, but didn't register what she was saying. He grabbed onto her shoulders, trying to stop her from moving around so much. It was making him feel sick.
"April…April, relax. I'm here now," he murmured quietly.
April tore out of his grasp and made a loud sound of surprise.
"Christ, Roger! Are you honestly that stupid?! That's the problem! You're the problem! Can you hear me?!" she screeched. She stood up straight in front of Roger and roughly took his face in her hands, staring into his barren eyes.
"Are you fucking listening to me? Roger! W—why did you do this? Why did you fuck up your life? And my life?" she pushed him away and sat down on her bed, the coils inside squeaking as she did so.
The two remained silent for a long time, but neither of them knew for how long. Roger stood frozen in place. He stared out the window at a neon sign and swore he could hear it buzzing from inside. From a far-off distance he heard a baby crying, and he heard a fog horn from what sounded like right outside. He didn't know why April was so mad, but right now he didn't care too much.
He took two steps forward and April stood up from her seat on the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. She sniffed her tears back and whimpered.
"April…"
"What?" she asked sharply.
Roger cleared his throat and sauntered over to April. He didn't have anything to say, but he was sick of the deafening silence.
"I'm… sorry," he finally forced out.
"No you're not," she replied quietly.
"Yeah I am." Roger finally took of his coat and dropped it on the couch, it making a heavy noise as it fell to the ground.
"If you were sorry you would stop," she spat bitterly. "I can't believe you."
Roger slipped off his shoes and moved closer to April who backed away to the window.
"Please, April. Believe me," he said, louder than he meant to. He wasn't sure what April wanted to hear. He was too engrossed in his high, but maybe if he told her he was sorry, she wouldn't be angry anymore.
"No you won't!" she yelled, staring out the window. "What do you take me for? I wasn't born yesterday, Roger!"
A loud, shrill scream was heard from below, and a deeper voice came muffled from the floor below.
"Get the fuck out of my apartment!" the shrill voice screamed.
Roger gave a small shrug and sighed. "I love you."
"If you loved me, you wouldn't be making me cry."
"I'm sorry. Please believe me, baby. Please. I will."
"You will what?" April asked, her hands poised on her hips.
Roger didn't know how to answer that. He hadn't been paying too much attention to April's ramblings, so he didn't have any idea as to what he was promising her. Sounds replayed in his mind as he tried to recall.
The booming music of the club.
"Get the fuck out of my apartment!"
"That's the problem! You're the problem!"
The buzzing neon sign.
"Believe me."
The beautiful Spanish girl laughing with her friends.
Crying babies.
"Why did you do this? Why did you fuck up your life? And my life?"
"Roger, you know I don't like it when you do that."
'That'. What was 'that'? Drinking? April drank, too. Drugs? April didn't do drugs. April didn't like it when he did drugs.
"You don't like it when I do drugs."
"Good observation, dumbass."
"I'll stop doing drugs."
"You've been listening?"
"Of course," Roger blatantly lied. He felt like his head was going to explode with a big BOOM. He wished April would stop yelling so much.
April sauntered over to Roger and looked him in the eyes. She had stopped crying and her blue eyes were clear and full of screaming anger. He wrapped his arms around her back. She wrenched her arm out of his grip and slapped him hard across the face. Roger stumbled back, but regained his balance with help from the couch.
April fell into Roger, sobbing and gasping for breath.
"Shh," he consoled her, stroking her hair. He sniffed and hummed the beginning of her favourite song that his band played, rocking her back and forth. He took her tiny hand in his much bigger one and shuffled his feet on the ground, dancing with April.
"I hate you…" she breathed. She sniffed back her tears and tried to punch Roger in the chest with her free hand, but it came out as a gentle thud as she was far too exhausted to put any force into it.
Roger continued to hum, pulling April closer. They danced like that for a little while longer until April spoke up again.
"I love you."
Roger kissed the top of her head and lifted her up carefully from the ground. He kept humming as he carried her over to the bed and gently placed her on it, the box spring squeaking quietly underneath. He sat down and lifted her shirt over her head, still humming. Always humming. April tugged him closer to her by his shirt.
"I like that song," April whispered.
"I know," Roger replied, helping April take off his own shirt. He leaned down and kissed her, still listening to the neon sign humming outside.
