Myr's comments: Thank you to Steph, my wonderful beta. Thank you to Angela for letting me use her great lyrics as Talia's. Thank you to those who have reviewed, I'm glad I could change your mind about fics written in the 1st person. And again, all feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Bittersweet
Chapter 2
Syd noticed his appraisal of me and, not too happily, hit him on the arm. It wasn't a painful blow, just a 'stop that!' open handed thwack. He feigned pain and innocence. I couldn't stop a grin from forming at the sight of his theatrical flair, 'Oh, why doest thou seek to harm me so?' But the humor quickly evaporated as he returned his gaze back to me, still doubtful, curious… suspicious.
I started to feel uncomfortable standing there on display in the middle of the entrance hall. My sense of unease intensified when a clingy couple found me to be an obstacle, and instead of quickly brushing past me, they lingered to examine me. Their perusal jerked me into action and I walked with conviction towards Syd.
His eyebrows rose as I got closer. He must be wondering how I'd dare go near him when a 'don't feed the animals' sign is so obviously hanging over his head.
Once my target was reached I shifted my gaze to Syd. "Gimme your keys." It was an order, not a question, but that didn't seem to faze her.
Her lips quirked up and gestured a hand between myself and The Brute, "Talia - Vince. Vince - my best-friend Talia." He seemed slightly surprised to hear of my status and looked me up and down again. Jesus! Would you stop doing that. I felt the urge to say 'Wanna take a picture, it'll last longer' but, that being such a tacky line, I offered a terse "Hi" instead. He grunted, and I noticed his hand resting on Syd's thigh give me a weak 3 finger wave.
"Keys," I reminded her.
"Why? You're not leaving are you?" Her smile dripped of bad soap-opera acting.
I took my cue from her and put on my sweetest vanilla frosted smile, and enunciated every word clearly, "No, this is just my insurance that you won't forget me when you do decide to leave." She took no offence to my comment, just chuckled a bit and took her keys out of her itty-bitty purse and handed them over to me. I grabbed the keys and headed for the front door, ignoring each pair of eyes that observed me.
Once outside I took a deep breath of fresh air, and softly let it out as a sigh. I made my way down the wooden porch steps and walked across the street to Syd's car. I wondered what I had brought with me when I had quickly made my backpack that morning; the band had been waiting for me in the van, repetitiously honking the horn, probably because they knew it grated my nerves and thought it would make me go faster…it did. We were already 20 minutes late for rehearsal and I failed to see the enormity of one more minute.
It was a hectic day, but also one of the greatest…unfortunately this party was slowly altering that perception; it was starting to feel like a really unpleasant night. I rummaged through my pack Come on, there has to be something for me to do while I wait for this ritual of torture to end.I found my portable CD player, 3 of my favorite CDs, and sheet music. Though, not how I had hoped to spend the evening, the night was salvageable; I could get some work done.
Walking back toward the house, I stopped in the middle of the street, right on the yellow line. There was no traffic, all the parking spaces were filled with fast looking cars, but not one engine was heard. I looked at the houses, not just houses, they were homes; some of the yards had toys scattered across the front lawn, some porches had rocking chairs and tea tables placed at a perfect angle so as to avoid an accident should the door be opened unexpectedly. The neighborhood looked nice, peaceful, and safe. It looked like a good place to raise kids, lounge on the porch and share a pitcher of iced tea with a neighbor on those really hot summer afternoons, and have family brunches on Sundays. I felt at ease, standing there in the middle of the street, I wasn't the one out of place here, this party was.
Before going back into the Hellhole I took another calming breath. I didn't want to go back, but I knew that it was better to tell Syd where I was than to have her guessing; every minute not spent searching for me, was a minute less spent here. I opened the door and I could feel the suffocating presence of too many people in an enclosed space, and I could hear the dreadful music again. It's not the music itself that irritated me, it was the loudness of it; I had already had my fill today at the concert, I didn't want any more. What I needed was soft music and profound lyrics in a dimly lit, quiet backyard; a place where I could get inspired by the slow movement of the stars and satellites to write a meaningful song of my own.
Closing the door behind me, I looked over at the armchair in the opposite corner. Syd, to my surprise, wasn't on Vince's lap anymore. I looked at his exasperated expression and followed his gaze. He was looking at the girls dancing, more specifically looking at Syd dance. Although, I say the word 'dance' loosely, 'undulate' might be a more precise term. She was in fact putting on a show meant only for him.
I couldn't understand why Vince wasn't pleased with Syd dancing so lasciviously for him. I looked at Vince again and his name and his appearance registered in my brain and then everything made sense. Syd had told me about Vince. He was probably the only one that had ever rejected Syd's sexual advances and treated her as a friend instead. For that, even though I had never met him, I had really respected him.
Oh God, I so don't wanna see this. When is she gonna learn. I made a beeline for the backyard through the kitchen, opening the porch light on the way out. I was relieved to see a picnic table; I wasn't in the mood to sit on bug-infested grass or, in this case, warm and dirty pavement.
I dumped my pack on the tabletop as I contorted my way onto the bench seat. I placed my earphones on and pushed play. With my back to the light the stars were fully visible. I fought the urge to lie down on the tabletop to have a better view of the night sky. I splayed the sheet music in front of me, pen ready in hand…I stared at the blank page. Nothing. I looked up again and waited and waited. I turned off the music playing in my ears because I couldn't seem to focus on any thought or feeling without them being corrupted. A moment, then two, then inspiration hit. I hunched over my paper and started scribbling draft after draft.
A life of contradiction, a road that cuts into hell. Torn between perfection and flaw, being human and divine.
So you cut yourself, desperate to prove there's something more to feel. And when there's nothing left to cut, you wonder why.
A beautiful scar, the remainder of what you are. Though blood be gone, and time moves on, everything is still the same. A strung out junkie, drawn towards the flame, attention being all that you crave.
So you cut yourself, desperate to prove there's something more to feel. And when there's nothing left to cut, you wonder why.
I read it over and smiled contentedly. Leaning my head over my crossed arms, my eyelids slowly closed.