"Babe, there's something lonesome about you, something so wholesome about you. Get closer to me."
Austin munched on 2 strips of chewing gum as he waited for his mom to come to the door. He was no animal expert but what looked like a crow had already landed next to his puke and was pecking at the chunks.
"Austin Monica my baby boooyyy!"
His head whipped around at the sound of creaking hinges and his mother's voice. And, despite not even wanting to be there, Austin had to smile because Mimi Moon was always so happy to see him, even after all this time, no matter what.
"Hey mom."
"I've been calling you." She wrapped him in a tight hug as soon as he crossed the threshold, "Oh my little prince! It's been so long!"
"Mom I can't breathe."
"I haven't seen you in years let me squeeze the life out of you a little bit."
He breathed a kind of laugh that was both embarrassed and flattered at the same time. And he allowed himself to be held in maternal arms for a few moments longer, just to make up for lost time.
"Oh my goodness let me get a good look at you." She finally pulled away but gripped him around his triceps, "You're just as handsome as ev- Austin another tattoo?"
He followed her incredulous eyes to his shoulder. Mimi pulled up the short sleeve of his red t-shirt, revealing an open umbrella inked into his skin.
"What you don't like it?" Austin smirked. He'd actually gotten 5 more tattoos since his mom last saw him at age 19, but the umbrella was the only one of the newer additions that was visible.
"You know how I feel about tattoos." Her eyes wandered across the rest of him, either searching for more ink or appreciating how much he'd grown, "And when do you plan on getting a haircut?"
"Aw come on mom don't start okay." He ran a hand through his own offending locks, suddenly annoyed.
"Alright alright fine." Mimi reached up to brush her son's bangs aside only to have him lean his head away, avoiding contact completely. That small movement was like a knife piercing all the way through her chest, slicing the muscles and scraping her ribs and skewering her heart with a pulpy squish. The relationship she had with her son had been filled with moments like these, where he shied from her hands. But Mimi Moon would never grow accustomed to him pulling away from her, she'd never grow accustomed to the knife.
"Well…" she cleared her throat and wrung her hands and smiled, "How was the drive?"
"Long as shit." He replied, adjusting the duffel bag hanging on his shoulder.
"Austin. Language please."
"I stopped and stayed the night in Georgia then drove the rest of the way this morning." He didn't even acknowledge her disapproval, allowing the bump of coke in his arteries to keep his temper in check.
"Well come on in the kitchen I'm almost done with dinner."
His stomach suddenly clenched and groaned in response. It was all because of those little white lines of his; they kept him awake, they kept him calm, but they'd killed his appetite the entire trip. And now, with his previous high long gone, his current high still processing, and the only meal he'd had all day currently out in the street being eaten by birds, Austin's belly was screaming for sustenance.
He sat at their little Formica dinner table and watched his mom move about the kitchen.
"So how are things in Virginia?" Mimi asked, stirring something in a steam-choked pot, "Are you still playing in that band?"
She liked knowing what was going on in his life, though they spoke on the phone maybe only once every 5 months and even then Austin always seemed to be in the middle of something or on the verge of being in the middle of something. Their longest conversation, and yes she'd timed it, lasted about 20 minutes but only because Austin kept telling her to hold on while he spoke to some rowdy voices in the background.
"Uh yeah." He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand, "We actually have a couple of shows coming up so…"
"Hm." She murmured, her disappointment very thinly veiled.
Austin grinned, his head growing light, "What's the matter mom? Not a fan of Flesh & Bone? You don't want my autograph?"
She paused with her back to him, stirring the spaghetti sauce much slower. For a second, he thought she'd burst into tears. But then her voice was smiling again.
"Are you hungry? Or did you already eat on the road?"
"I'm starving actually."
Mimi got to work fixing their plates. Austin continued to watch her. Cooking was usually a calming experience for his mom. Even as a youngster, Austin noticed how her shoulders would gradually relax once the water started to boil or how measuring ingredients seemed to put the smile back on her face. But now the magic of Mimi's kitchen didn't seem to be working and she was trying hard to hide her sorrow. A low rattling filled the kitchen as her shaky hands collected a couple of ceramic plates from the cabinet. Even the way she plated the meal was full of agitated gestures that sent spaghetti sauce splattering unnecessarily or a piece of garlic bread falling to the floor with a soft crunch. By the time she finished making both of their plates and carrying them over, there was a small mess along the stovetop and adjacent counter.
"Okay here we go. Spaghetti and meatballs." She set one of the plates before him and the other across from him. "Do you want something to drink?"
"Any beer?"
She paused on her way to the fridge, not wanting to remember that her baby boy was now an adult and well over the legal drinking age. "Um I don't… there's some…Sunny D."
"Sunny D?" He was grinning again, "What am I fucking 10 years old?"
"Austin language!"
"Who the hell are you even buying that stuff for? Is there a 5th grade soccer team from 1993 coming over later?"
She shifted uncomfortably as Austin teased, "I think your father might still have some of that Pabst Blue Ribbon in the fridge."
He grimaced, "PBR? No thanks I get enough of that hipster bullshit back in Virginia."
Mimi shot him a look and he rolled his eyes.
"Pardon me. Bull poop."
This time she laughed and Austin would be lying if he said it didn't sound like a sweet old melody.
"So what'll it be little prince?"
He struggled not to wince as she called him that for the second time. Honestly, he'd even prefer Austy over Little Prince.
"Ummm Sunny D it is I guess. Hey throw a little tequila in there too."
"Very funny."
He thanked her for the glass of OJ as she slid into the seat across from him. They ate in silence. He knew he should say something….comforting? But what? I'm glad he's dead you should be too? Doubtful. So instead of saying the wrong thing, Austin observed his mother in between bites.
His blonde hair came directly from Mimi's Swedish ancestry but, after 4 years of not seeing one another, he noticed hers was a little more gold than he remembered. He wondered for a second if she was into dying these days. She'd always been particular about her appearance and had remained lovely through and past years of verbal abuse. Sometimes Austin thought the make-up was her armor and that if she caked enough on and combined it with the jewelry and the pretty clothes then every harsh word would just bounce off and float away. Now, though, it seemed she was liberated in the wake of her husband's passing. Her face was naked. Her hair looked as though she'd curled it that morning but hours of stress and grief and hot Miami weather wilted every blonde curve. Mimi didn't just look tired, she looked weary. Her fingers curled around a white "Moon's Mattress Kingdom" mug. He watched her take tentative sips and wondered if the absence of a son and the loss of a husband had converted her usual chamomile tea to something stronger. He didn't ask her though. As a matter of fact, neither of them said anything until Austin was already half way through his second plate.
"The house looks pretty good." He finally said after closing Instagram and setting his phone aside.
"Hm?" her blue eyes suddenly looked up from the thin slice of chocolate cake gradually diminishing on her plate. "Oh yeah the house." She smiled, "It was all your father's doing. He's been really handy these last few months."
"….Cool." Austin nodded after pausing a moment for her to correct herself. But he could tell by the way her lip suddenly trembled that she couldn't change 'He's been' to 'He was' even if she wanted to. He was sure now that he should say something to console his mom but the correct words still escaped him, especially with coke driving full speed ahead through his body. So he looked away and surveyed the kitchen. Though the cabinetry, floors, and a majority of the appliances were untouched, there was a new black Keurig coffee maker squatting by their old "Moon's Mattress Kingdom" cookie jar. Further down the counter sat a new shiny stainless steel microwave. For that he knew she must be supremely grateful. The old one was permanently tinged brown on the inside thanks to an unfortunate popcorn accident and it drove his mom insane. Austin continued to observe the room a little longer, hopefully giving Mimi enough time to reinforce the parts of herself that were crumbling. Once he'd appreciated the new stainless steel dishwasher, his brown eyes slid carefully back to his mother. She was in the middle of another careful sip.
"So…" Austin sighed with a gentle smile and decided to just man up already, "How you holding up Mimi?"
She couldn't help but laugh at the sound of her first name from her only son's lips.
"I'm doing okay I suppose."
"You sure?"
At that she sighed deeply. It started in her shoulders, both of them lifting and relocating her disheveled blonde curls. Air, thick with the scent of spaghetti, rushed into her, filling her lungs from floor to ceiling, expanding her chest. And when she exhaled, there was more than just carbon dioxide leaving her body. Mimi's shoulders sagged and her ribs compressed and her hair seemed to grow duller. But still she managed a soft smile, even as her universe folded in on itself.
"I'll be fine. I promise."
He didn't know if he believed her or not. But maybe if they both pretended what she said was true then Austin would be able to leave her again tomorrow morning without the weight of guilt breaking his back.
"Is everything all set for tomorrow?"
"Um yeah the wake is from 11 to 2. I figure that's when most people in the neighborhood will be on lunch break or something. And the last thing I need to do for the funeral Saturday is um iron my dress I suppose."
Here she released a tragic bark of laughter and gently rubbed her right temple.
"Did Aunt Diane help?"
"Oh Di was a lifesaver. I guess it does pay to have a funeral director in the family."
"Guess so." Austin nodded and then, after a moment's pause, frowned, "Did you just say that the wake is tomorrow?"
"Remember that's what I told you on the phone."
"Aw shit!"
"Language!"
"I thought the funeral was tomorrow!? I didn't even know there was going to be a wake!"
"I specifically said the wake was Friday and the funeral Saturday Austin."
He pressed both hands to his face, "Fuuuuuuck. I can't stay here an extra day I have a huge gig. A LOT of huge gigs mom!"
"Oh sweetie you can't miss the funeral!"
"Of course I can't!" Austin threw out his arms and laughed like a maniac, "Of course I can't miss the funeral! They're just the most important shows of my life!"
"I know this is hard for you little prin-"
Austin slammed his fists on the table so viciously that the dishes trembled in fear and Mimi leapt nearly 2 inches in her chair. She sat and stared, with heart hammering, as her son took a deep breath, then another.
"Stop calling me that." His voice was low though he himself was incredibly high.
She nodded, gripping her coffee mug and burying her gaze inside of it. His mom was afraid and, as his burst of rage passed, Austin felt like shit about it. He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed.
"The guys are gonna be so pissed." He mumbled while grabbing his cell and preparing to send a few disappointing texts, "The most important shows of my life but my asshole of a father dies just to fuck me over one last time."
"Austin Monica you watch your mouth!" Mimi's blue eyes blazed, "Your father worked hard and took care of his family!"
"Took CARE of this family!?" his face twisted in confusion.
Her eyes grew teary, "When you left he was so sad, he missed you so much-"
"Yeah I bet he did. No more Austin to beat the shit out of."
"Don't you dare!"
"NO DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!" Austin shot to his feet, towering over Mimi, "You're not allowed to ignore this anymore mom! He beat the shit out of me almost every day! Where the fuck were you huh!?"
He paused, feeling fire ants crawling and biting beneath his skin. The coke kept him calm, except when it didn't.
"'He missed me so much' don't give me that bullshit. He hated me the second I told him I didn't want to work in a fucking mattress store for the rest of my life."
"Austin he just wanted his son to take over the family b-"
"Well you know what too fucking bad! Life isn't fair, that's the only thing that piece of shit ever taught me!"
"Stop it right now!" Mimi rose from her seat with flushed face and streaming tears, "You'd better have some respect for the dead in this house!"
"Oh I do though mom." Austin said, suddenly grinning, "I respect the hell out of him for dying and making the world a better place. Bravo Mike!" he applauded sarcastically.
"That's a horrible thing to say." Mimi stormed out of the kitchen like a petulant teenager. Austin followed her, clapping louder as she ran towards the master bedroom.
"Bravo! Encore, encore please! Die a-fucking-gain!"
They didn't speak for the rest of the night.
The next morning, before either of them were even showered or dressed, Austin walked up behind Mimi as she washed the spaghetti-crusted dishes and wrapped her in a hug. She pressed her back into his chest and gripped his forearms for dear life. They remained that way for almost a full minute. And when he released her and she turned to him with a smile, he knew she'd forgiven him even though he could never truly forgive her.
The wake was his own personal hell. After flying a little off the handle the previous night, Austin had decided to forego the 2 white lines he sometimes snorted with breakfast. And now as he stood in the cool funeral home, there was supreme discomfort closing in on him and invading his body.
He was totally unprepared for the occasion, having only brought a suit he borrowed from Gavin, a couple extra pairs of undies, and his rock and roll attire for the festival. Not wanting to potentially sweat his balls off in the suit and have to rush to get it cleaned by tomorrow, Austin was forced to dig into the suitcase he'd packed for Atlanta. Unfortunately though, One Hundred Amps was decidedly informal. His mom frowned when he met her in the living room in some faded black skinny jeans, a plain white muscle tee and black leather jacket.
"What?" he'd spun around in his dirty grey Converse with a smile, "You don't like my outfit?"
Mimi had just rolled her eyes and headed for the front door, mumbling something about haircuts and 'not proper attire at all'.
They arrived at the funeral home around 10:20am to make sure everything was all squared away. It was an open-casket affair but Mimi remained surprisingly calm as they adjusted the flowers and set up the registry book. Relatives started to filter in and he was bombarded with 'So sorry about your father Austin' and 'We haven't seen in you so long, you've grown so much'. He got caught up in a whirlwind of lingering hugs and sweaty handshakes and words of comfort that he didn't even need. By 10:55 he'd successfully weaseled out of an awkward conversation with some 2nd cousin and was hiding in the least populated area of the funeral home. No one wanted to venture anywhere near the casket before they had to and Austin found himself alone with his father for the first time in 7 years. It was severely creepy seeing such an abusive man so still, so quiet.
His face was ashen. Death had given his skin a waxy texture and the mortician, in an effort to bring in some artificial life, caked on layers of powdery make up. Austin had never seen a dead body outside of the gory horror movies he loved so much. He'd expected his dad to appear fast asleep, still in a suit like he'd forgotten to change into his pajamas. But there was an emptiness that films couldn't necessarily capture. Austin wasn't an idiot, he knew that everything physical remained within his father's body. Sure the vasculature was full of embalming fluid instead of blood and the bones were all packed with useless marrow and the nerves were completely dormant, but they were still there. It was all the truly important things that were missing: vitality, presence, soul. Mike Moon, formerly the mattress king, was now a fleshy vessel without purpose.
Austin reached out and touched the impossibly pale knuckles of his late father with a sick sort of curiosity. And suddenly, to his utter horror, there were tears, burning and unmistakable, quickly gathering just behind his eyeballs. He tore his hand away as if it'd been scalded.
"No way." The blonde whispered, staring at his dead dad and stuffing his hands in his pockets, "No fucking way am I gonna give you the goddamn satisfaction."
But the tears were still there, waiting to resurface with a stinging vigor after every defiant blink. He stepped away from the casket but not before a powerful kind of agony began to creep into his chest. Austin's breathing grew irregular.
"Fuck you." He whispered between clenched teeth, wanting desperately to feed off of that hatred. But the type of pain he was feeling had been around since the beginning of time, had touched the lives of so many mourning people and persisted across eons. He needed to get out of there. He needed to sprint from the funeral home, from the city, from the whole state. He needed to push Roxy, 90mph with all the windows down, nonstop to Atlanta. But then his mom was clicking over in her black pumps, taking a gentle hold of his arm, and guiding him to stand beside her by the casket. His Aunt Diane, being Mike's only sister, took her spot next to Austin. It was 11:10 am and people were showing up and it was all at once too late to escape. He could barely breathe. He wanted so badly to press his hand to his chest to possibly soothe however much of that ache he could. He wanted to look up to the ceiling and blink those damn tears away forever. But he refused to show any signs of sadness, he would never admit to missing the asshole lying dead as a doornail beside his mother. So he fought against himself, against emotions that were huge and involuntary. He fought for an hour and a half as he and his relatives fielded condolences from the Mattress Kingdom employees and various people of the neighborhood. For an hour and a half he didn't even truly see the array of faces or hear their well-wishing words because there was acid beneath his eyeballs and sheer anguish gripping his lungs and heart and he needed every ounce of concentration to keep it all at bay. Until…
"I'm so very sorry for your loss."
And immediately there was something else for his mind to concentrate on. There was no glass window muffling her voice this time but Austin recognized it anyway.
He watched her clasp his Aunt's hands in her own. They were the same tiny fingers that had clutched a steering wheel tight enough for her knuckles to flush paper white, except now her nails were painted. Those ten pops of mint green were the most colorful parts of her entire look. In her all black mid-thigh t-shirt dress, black ankle boots, and black and white striped infinity scarf, she seemed already dressed for the funeral. She was smiling softly at something Diane was saying and he marveled at how different her face appeared without that haunting look of devastation.
"Of course." She replied to whatever his aunt had said, "Mr. Moon was always a very nice man."
And even that pure bullshit spilling from her pink lips didn't diminish their loveliness. She had a gently sloping nose, he noticed, that fit her face well. And, Jesus Christ, those eyes, now suddenly leaving Diane and turning to him. Austin barely gave Mr. Cooper, general manager of Moon's Mattress Kingdom, who was currently shaking his hand a second glance as the guy moved on to his mother and the mystery girl approached.
She remembered him right away. He could tell as her eyes landed on him then blinked in slight surprise. But she recovered quickly and reached for his hand. He was staring. Her ombre hair was chocolate brown at the roots, honey blond at the ends, and pinned in an easy updo with a few very loose hanging curls framing her face.
"I'm so sorry about your dad." She said in a voice tender with genuine sympathy. Her hand was wrapped comfortably in his, despite the anxious sweat of his palm. And those eyes, dark and weathered like old walnut wood, regarded him sadly. But the sadness seemed more a part of her than it should, like she was already unhappy even before "nice" Mr. Moon kicked the bucket. They were wide expressive orbs surrounded by fans of mascara-coated lashes and he found himself wondering, yet again, what could've dulled the light in her pupils.
"Thanks." Austin replied like he was supposed to, "My family really appreciates it."
She offered him a warm smile and he accepted it with a nod. Then she was releasing his hand and moving on to address Mimi. Every bit of terrible reality slammed back into him with potency. There were the tears threatening to pour and the throbbing ache exploding again and again behind his chest.
"So sorry for your loss." Some lady with a lot of the mystery girl's features gave him a look full to bursting with pity. He figured she was the mom.
"Thanks."
She moved on. His eyes followed after the owner of the red VW Bug. Now done giving her condolences to the immediate family, she joined the rapidly growing crowd of people mingling in the space.
"Sorry about your father. Mike was a great guy." Some man was suddenly before him, shaking Austin's hand, "He even gave my wife and I a discount on a wonderful mattress when we first moved here a couple of years back." The guy gestured to Beetle girl's mom. So this was the dad.
"Yeah, he sold mattresses." Austin replied lamely, his voice cracking. He sold mattresses and he hated me and I might not want him to be dead.
"He was a great salesman and an all-around great guy." The older man smiled.
Austin nodded, afraid to speak and have his vocal cords nearly expose him again. He looked out into the crowd once more for a flash of stripes or honey tips. But then there was another person in front of him, touching him, and telling him just how deeply sorry they were. It went on and on like this, sad people smiling and interrupting his search for the mysterious brunette, for another half hour before Austin silently broke.
"I'll be back." He mumbled to Mimi without even looking at her and was already disappearing into the small party before she could even reply.
He moved as quickly as he could toward the glowing red exit sign without bowling people over. Thoughts of Beetle girl faded away as his father's voice filled his entire skull. Austin could hear the arguments, the disappointment and anger of Mike's voice echoing off of all his damaged places. He could feel every bruise, painful and sensitive, marring his skin and molding him violently into this 23 year old fragmented human being. It didn't matter where the exit led, his hands slammed into the crash bar, pushing the door open with the urgency of a man suffocating. And once he was outside, bathed in sunlight and fresh air, Austin pressed his hands to his knees and panted. Each new gulp of oxygen slowly, very slowly, released the vice of his ribcage.
"Fuck!" he barked to no one in particular. It felt kind of good to make noise, any noise. So he did it again, sending profanity up into the blue sky.
He was in a wide alleyway behind the funeral home. The exit door opened right next to a big green dumpster around which sat 5 or 6 old wooden pallets. It smelled like shit but Austin wouldn't trade the privacy for a million dollar record deal.
He straightened up and took a few tentative steps towards the opposite wall, still panting. He remembered everything that bastard had put him through. Everything. Through his most formative years he lived in constant, unending fear of his dad. And then a bunch of people show up and tell him how Mike Moon was such a fucking 'great guy'. Austin grabbed one of the pallets and threw it with every single ounce of strength he could muster. It hurt having all of his muscles tense and his adrenaline surge like a raging river. But God did it feel good to watch the wooden structure explode against the alley wall. It was almost euphoric to just completely destroy something, like 2 little white lines for his soul. Sweat beaded on his brow as the pleasurable relief seeped into him. He sighed. The tears receded. His breathing became a little slower but still not quite normal.
Austin wasn't a smoker. He didn't buy cigs or crave nicotine. But sometimes, like now, when he absolutely needed SOMETHING, this legal drug would do. He'd bummed a pair of cigarettes off of Ansley before she'd left his room, just in case. And knowing he was about to tackle another Dad-heavy day in Miami without some fresh powder, Austin had stuffed both Marlboros and a lighter into his jacket pockets that morning. Reaching into them now and feeling the smooth paper and the weighted plastic instantly sent calming hormones reaching across his brain. The sensation intensified as he placed the cigarette between his lips. And when he lit it and took that very first drag, a deep sigh released grey wisps of smoke up to dance with the foul words he'd screamed moments before.
There was no denying the pain in his chest. A hole he didn't want or deserve was quickly eating a permanent niche in Austin's heart. He was fucking grieving over Mike Moon's untimely passing. But oh well, he flicked some ashes and planted the cigarette back in his mouth. It was nothing a couple of dates with Mary Jane and a few mounds of nose candy couldn't fix.
Austin took off his leather jacket, tossing it to the ground and standing there in his white sleeveless tee. He was running a hand over his umbrella tattoo when the hairs on the back of his neck stood fully erect. He whirled around and was surprised to find a pair of widened brown eyes. Actually, he wasn't that surprised. He was drawn to this mystery girl after all, first by bright red brake lights and then, unknowingly, through the peaceful glow of the exit sign. She was frozen, standing just a few feet away as they stared at each other. Austin's eyes drug down her bare legs as he silently took another puff of his cigarette.
"Uuuhh….." her mouth hung open as an adorable pink blush bloomed in her cheeks, "I-I'm sorry I was just- I was getting some fresh air." she gestured to a small set of stairs a little further down the alley that she must've been sitting on, "I really didn't think anyone else would come out here um…I figured you probably want to be alone so I was just heading back inside."
Her boots crunched on the gritty ground as she drew closer to the same door he'd just come bursting out of.
"No!" it came out much much louder than he wanted it to so he ran a hand through his hair and tried to ignore the agony within him, "I mean you can stay out here. I'm almost done with this."
He held the cigarette up for her to see but she shook her head.
"It's okay I'll give you some privacy."
And maybe privacy was what he wanted before, but now he just desired some alone time with Beetle girl.
"Really. I don't mind." He gestured back toward the stairs. She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with his insistence. He watched her grow more and more agitated with each passing second. She chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip while her hands gripped a small brown book with a pen tucked into it.
"Uh okay."
She quickly walked back to the concrete steps and sat down, removing her black crossbody purse and setting it beside her in the process. Austin tried to watch her without being a creep. The minty green of her fingernails popped in that grey place, flashing brightly as she opened the book on her lap. With the clicking of the pen, her shoulders seemed to relax a little bit. He liked looking at her, his mind reveled in the mystery because wondering what she was writing and seeing that 2-toned hair form a curtain against her pale skin was more satisfying than the cigarette. He picked up his jacket and approached her before even consciously deciding to do so.
"Mind if I sit with you?" Austin asked as he slowly drew nearer, not wanting to startle her.
She looked up warily and it occurred to him that his big dramatic 'Hulk SMASH' moment had probably scared her. But despite her obvious reluctance, she picked up her bag and scooted over to the other end of the step. You're a people pleaser huh? But he went ahead and took advantage of that, sitting on the step below her to compensate for their large height difference. He tried to subtly steal a glimpse at her book but she was holding the side closest to him up, creating a privacy barrier. Touché Beetle girl.
"I'm Austin." He gently cracked the silence.
She paused, her eyes flickering to his face then his cigarette.
"Um those things'll kill you you know."
"Yeah no shit." He grinned at her, "And great job bringing up death to the guy whose dad is the lifeless lump of flesh in there. Cheers."
He didn't think it was possible for a human to blush so hard without melting from the heat.
"OH MY GOD! I am so so sorry!" her wide eyes had tripled in size, looking like big volleyballs bulging from her reddened face, "I wasn't thinking at all I'm really sorry God I say stupid things sometimes."
Austin chuckled, "Relax alright I'm just messing with you."
"Geez!" she whispered to herself, covering most of her face with one hand.
He laughed a little harder and tried to grab her wrist, "Hey come on don't-"
She jerked away the second Austin's fingertips brushed the fine hairs of her skin.
What the fuck?
Both of them somewhat startled, an awkward silence settled all too quickly. She wrung her hands and avoided his gaze.
"What's your name?" he asked gently, taking another cancerous puff.
She bit her lip and nodded towards the wooden fragments near the dumpster, "Did that help?"
That was twice now that she'd eluded introducing herself. Austin didn't push it, but he also didn't forget.
"A little." He admitted, studying the angry red marks across his palms as the cigarette dangled from his lips, "When stuff breaks you, sometimes it's nice to break stuff back."
"That makes sense." She muttered more to herself than anything.
"What're you writing?"
She closed the book, "Uh nothing."
"Dear Diary," Austin slipped into his best girly voice, "OH EM GEE so you remember that hot blonde guy that knocked on my car window yesterday? Well I just saw him AGAIN today! He's totes amazeballs!"
Another shade of pink spread over her cheeks as she giggled, "Oh gosh yea sorry about that too. I just- I kind of zoned out I guess. I hope I didn't make you late for something…?"
"Uh no." he realized she still thought he was some pissed off driver. "I was just wondering why we were sitting at a stop sign for ten minutes."
"I don't think I've ever been embarrassed this many times in such a short interval." She smiled despite the darkening magenta of her skin.
"Don't sweat it Lila."
"Lila?" she frowned at him as he pulled smoke into his lungs.
He exhaled, "Heather?"
And once she caught on to what he was doing, the girl grinned for the first time. Austin's already sore heart thudded painfully.
"Ashley? Juno? Beyonce?...Hermione?"
She laughed, "Wow really?"
He just shrugged, "Worth a shot."
"That's an interesting tattoo." She pointed to his upper arm. He glanced down at the umbrella then back at her with a confident smirk.
"You think that's interesting check this out."
Austin lifted the right side of his shirt, revealing his ribs. Tattooed there across the bones was an old blue cartoon-like mattress slumped over as if tossed in a corner and complete with a protruding spring and mystery stains. But what made it even more 'interesting' were the knives, approximately 12 of them, stabbed into it and exposing the stuffing.
Her dark eyebrows rose high on her forehead, "Wow."
"You like? Got it when I was 17."
"So I'm guessing you're not a huge fan of Moon's Mattress Kingdom then?"
His eyes narrowed, "Are you psychic?"
She smiled and he liked it.
"So what about you No-name? Got any tattoos?"
"No-name? Really?"
"Well you won't tell me your name so what else am I supposed to call you?" Austin took another deep puff of his cigarette and waited.
She bit her lip, "So what's the umbrella about?"
He laughed loudly, blowing clouds as she completely hurdled over his question yet again.
"Okay so I used to have what Google calls velumiphobia. You know what that is?"
She shook her head no.
"An irrational fear of umbrellas."
A giggle escaped her before she immediately slapped her hand across her mouth and looked at him with widened eyes, "Oh my God I am so sorry I did NOT mean to laugh!"
He grinned, "No it's cool. It's silly I know. It started when I was like 6 or 7 I think and it became this deep-rooted fear of something that was so harmless and commonplace, I mean 'irrational' is in the fucking definition and I was too ashamed to ever tell anyone so for 14 years I just lived with it. It was embarrassing and inconvenient but umbrellas are pretty easy to avoid believe it or not. The fear wasn't ruining my life or hindering me from accomplishing things but one day, I'm still not completely sure why, I was just…" He paused to search for a better word but failed, "just tired of being afraid and of something stupid like umbrellas. So I started to force myself to be around them whenever I could. And for a long time it was torture. Just being within a few feet of one and an icy cold sweat would pour, and I mean pour, from my forehead and my heart would beat so hard and so fast that my chest would ache for hours afterwards. The first time I actually built up enough courage to touch one I bit my lip so hard that it bled. But afterwards I was grinning like a maniac anyway because that's what victory tasted like you know, metallic and warm and wonderfully painful. It took me working almost every day for 10 months but I finally conquered my fear and the day that I could hold an umbrella without having any kind of reaction, I got this," he gestured to his upper arm, "to commemorate."
She was grinning again, "That's very admirable Austin. Now I really feel like a jerk for laughing."
He smiled around the cigarette, enjoying the sound of his name from her lips. He wanted to hear more from her, more about her and, being a generally impatient person, he spoke up.
"So MUNY huh?"
She looked horrified, "H-how did you-?"
He gestured to the pen she'd been twirling in her fingers. It was fat and yellow with the Music University of New York logo printed in red. She quickly stuffed it in her bag with a scoff of disappointment.
"That's right I know something about you nooooow." He wiggled his eyebrows but she didn't smile this time, "So are you on Spring Break or what?"
"No."
"Okaaaay…" he replied, wanting her to elaborate.
She paused, "How old are you?"
"23. How old are you?"
"So have you already graduated?"
"Nope. Can't graduate if you don't go."
"You didn't want to go to college?"
"That and they kind of require a high school diploma first so…"
Here her eyes widened, "You didn't finish high school!?"
Austin raised an eyebrow and her face flushed.
"I'm sorry that came out wrong."
"Yeah whatever." He puckered his lips and pushed a cone of smoke before them both, "I never finished high school."
"Why not?"
"Because I didn't feel like it. Is that alright with you?"
He was a little offended and maybe even somewhat embarrassed, though he'd never felt that way before when asked about his education.
She looked down at her book then back up at him, "I'm sorry I reacted that way. It's just that I was always taught that you either get your diploma or end up on the street living in a cardboard box somewhere."
He smirked, "Well a shitty 4-bedroom apartment with faulty AC and an evil cat named Turkey isn't much better than a cardboard box so…stay in school." Austin pointed at her and she giggled.
They lapsed into a silence that was far more comfortable than before. He twiddled the cigarette between his fingers, watching tiny wisps of smoke rise from its glowing tip. She stared down at the cover of her book, an intense mental debate waging in that brunette head. Then finally, with a slow deep breath, she whispered.
"Allyson."
"Hm?" he asked even though he heard her perfectly fine the first time.
"My name's Allyson. Well…Ally."
"Ally." He liked the way it felt just coming together in his windpipe and perching on his tongue like a canary before taking flight. Ally. It was the password to gaining her attention, to unlocking her identity.
"Hmmm…" he pretended to think for a moment, "I might like No-name better."
She rolled her eyes, "Much more interesting than Allyson I guess."
"How old are you Ally?" he asked, wanting to keep the momentum going.
This time when she paused it was shorter and the silence felt lighter.
"20."
"Wow. When's your birthday?"
She pulled her lips in and stared at her boots.
He grinned, "Oh come on don't clam up on me now."
Ally peeked up at him through her lashes.
"….It's this Tuesday." Her voice had gone soft, like it seemed to do each time she revealed something about herself.
"Are you shitting me? Any plans? And, if so, please tell me they involve getting wasted beyond belief."
"No plans at all. Unless you count Netflix and an entire tub of fruity mint swirl ice cream."
"That doesn't count and it never will."
She giggled, "Sounds like a good time to me."
"Ally you have to get fucked up on your 21st or you'll regret it forever and ever."
"Is that so?"
"It's like an unwritten law. What, none of your music school friends are willing to fly down and take you out?"
She scoffed, suddenly a little more serious, "What friends?"
"Are you telling me it's not all sunshine and rainbows and High School Musical up there?" he joked.
But she was back to studying her boots and saying nothing. His brown eyes took in the thin gold bracelet on her wrist.
"Well either way," Austin attempted to steer the conversation back on track, "the point is that you have to go out and get shit-faced."
She smirked, "On a Tuesday night?"
He shrugged, "Well yeah this isn't prohibition Ally, they don't stop selling drinks just because it's not Friday. Plus this is Miami. Even a slow night can be a wild night."
"Well I'm not much of a drinker anyway so..."
"Are you fucking kidding me? How come?"
"Well first of all it's ILLEGAL at my age."
"Jesus Christ do you know how long I've been drinking? On my 16th birthday I shot gunned beers til I was puking my stomach inside out." He took another casual puff of the Marlboro.
"Do you always curse so much?"
"Why? Does my language offend you madam Ally?"
"It just seems so abrasive and unnecessary."
"You sound like my mom."
"Maybe we both just want you to speak like a decent human being?"
"Ha ha ha." He smiled, suddenly wondering what her last name was.
"Are the two of you close?" she asked.
"We're the opposite of close actually."
"Why is that? Mimi seems really nice."
"Yeah well that's the problem." He mumbled.
"What do you mean?"
"You sure do ask a hell of a lot of questions."
His tone wasn't angry or annoyed. It was really just a kind of casual observation but still she was caught slightly off guard, her mouth moving to speak but no sound coming forth. Again there was the color of carnations spreading over her cheekbones.
"You're right I-I'm sorry." She started stuffing her book in her black purse, "I should probably go anyway my parents are probably looking for me."
"You sure you don't want to ask me anything else?" he teased, finding some enjoyment in making her blush.
Ally stood up and was down the steps and halfway to the door when she stopped and turned back to him. Their eyes met, his milk chocolate and full of something that shattered a long time ago and hers dark with a secret pain.
"Sorry again about your dad Austin." Her lips pulled at one corner, attempting a sympathetic smile.
He gave her a nod as that hole in his heart gained fathoms and fathoms he could never fill. And with that, she went back inside, the door closing gently behind her. Austin sat there for a while longer, eventually finishing both cigarettes.
Thanks so much for the reviews everyone. Please keep them coming! This story is much slower than the stuff I usually write and I'd love to know what you think.