You're My Cave, and I've Been Hiding Out

Walking. One foot in front of the other, step one two; step one two. Never on the cracks, some superstitions were fun. Walking was how it started. Walking down the few paved sidewalks of Kent county, in England. It was summer, and it was the hottest day of the year on record. My hair was in a neat ponytail, and my yellow sundress blew around me with the breeze. It smelled of summer, of peace and freezies and public pools.

Hands in my pockets, all electronic devices left in my little house. I needed to get away. To clear my mind. Not that I had much to clear it of, in terms of personal issues. I loved my family. I loved my friends. What I didn't love was Kent. It was nice, but I yearned to escape. I wanted to leave England in general, experience the world. Find myself.

And for a moment, I did. Find myself, that is. It wasn't in a train of thought, it wasn't in an epiphany, it was in a reflection. But not one from a store window or puddle from the rain we had received the previous day. It was in a pair of eyes. Brown, alarmingly different eyes. The kind that when you meet them with your own, you don't forget.

For that brief little moment we connected, this stranger and I. Smiles were exchanged, but so much more. I found myself in the eyes of a person who walked by me on the street in the middle of the city. Cliche, pathetic, and corny, I know. But I always kind of liked being cliche. Everyone knew you. Erm, sort of. It was hard to explain. I was hard to explain.

But I remembered him. Walking, trying to forget where I was and remember who I was. On the streets of a city that felt like a prison underground. On a day that should have set me free. But no, it was those eyes that set me free. One foot in front of the other; walking was how it started.

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Take Two. Setting? London, England. Rain, rain, rain. What else did I expect? A better day for sight seeing, that's what. Perching in front of a cafe window, I ignored the looks of the people inside. I was fixing my hair to the best of my abilities. I had no umbrella, but I didn't really mind. Seeing that the task was much too tedious for my non existent patience level, I ripped out the ponytail holder and ruffed it up a bit. Brown and long. Bland.

Something I made up for with personality. I was loud. I was expressive. I wasn't a scared person. I was strong for my small size. I was sarcastic. I loved myself. Not in an arrogant way, just the normal, self respecting love that most people seemed to lack. I buttoned up my bomber jacket, loving how it fit my twenty-one year old body. My handmade messenger bag was slung over my right shoulder. Embellished with peace signs, plane ticket stickers, and political activist buttons.

In London, everyone was late. For what, I had no fucking clue. But people ran past me, diving into stores and buildings and flagging down buses and cabs. They shuffled about in penny loafers and high heels, so I felt out of place with my extremely torn chuck taylors.

My eyes were on the ground, still hopping over the cracks in the sidewalk. The people merged around me in frustration, and I smiled. One man in particular seemed quite angry, and hit my shoulder so hard in his race against time that he knocked me over. My bag spilled open, and I looked at all of my papers for a minute before lowering onto my knees and beginning to collect them all.

Time. What a funny little thing. I had a thousand notebooks, chock full of ideas and dreams and drawings and poems and stories and memories and life. My jeans were ripped at the knees, forcing water through that stained the gravel. I didn't mind. After all, if God had meant for us all to be dry all the time, we'd be waterproof. I laughed slightly at the idea.

"Here, let me help you." A voice said. Suddenly a pair of hands joined mine in the collection of my things. I didn't stop, but I looked at him oddly. I cocked my head to the side as we stood up. Where had I seen him before? He smiled at me. Those eyes. Those eyes, those eyes, those eyes. Recognition flooded both his face and mine.

"Thanks." I said genuinely. My own eyes floated down to his sweater, which had stitched letters on the top right side. Right above where the breast pocket should have been.

Guildhall School of Music and Drama

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" He asked, his eyes scrutinizing my face. Trying to pretend he didnt' remember me. Well, perhaps he didn't. Like I had said, my appearance was forgettable.

"Yes. Three years ago, Kent county. Martin Street." I nodded, my face completely placid. He smiled slightly before laughing.

"Right." He said. Had I scared him off? I didn't know. But I wouldn't let the conversation die so easily.

"I'm Alex." I said, offering my hand. He shook it without hesitation. Perhaps I hadn't lost him just yet.

"Orlando." He replied. I smiled.

"Like Orlando Gibbons?" I asked, referring to the 16th century composer I'd fallen in love with one day. He laughed.

"Yes."

"He did that one piece...What was it called...The um..."

"The Silver Swan." We said in unison, and smiled again. Out of my peripherals, I saw the looks we were getting from people as they walked by. They were quite pissed that two people decided to have a chit chat in the middle of a busy street. Well as far as I was concerned, they could sit on it. I was quite content, meeting the boy I thought was gone forever. Nothing more than a perfect cloud that passed over the sky before gracing someone else's piece of scenery.

"Well I've got a bus to catch." He said, looking down the street at the bus that was coming. I nodded, but didn't want to leave. Well, no duh. He was fucking beautiful. And charming. But things were what they were. Can't change it.

"Right." I said, smiling and turning. "See you around." I said, not really believing it. But I shrugged it off. Keeping the image of his eyes was all I needed, I thought. They were a key of some sort. Didn't know what they unlocked, but I knew it was something great. I sighed, crushing my arms tighter against my sides to block out the chill setting in.

Songs rang through my head. No. Not songs, plural. One song. The Silver Swan. A bunch of words not entirely understood due to the high pitch of the choir, but it was pretty. Pretty song tagged to a pretty boy. I laughed as I pushed through the ever growing herd of people. I was swimming with the salmon, all of them rushing upstream while I coasted with the current down.

"Alex!"

I turned, and watched the boy, Orlando, jog up to me. He apologized a few times to people who scowled at him. I could have walked to meet him and save him some trouble, but I didn't. Why was beyond me. He smiled nervously, and handed me a slip of paper. Ten digits were scribbled onto it. I smirked.

"You should call sometime, if you get a chance." He said, holding my gaze just long enough to see me nod. Then he spun and quickly bounded for his public transportation. I smiled, folding the paper and slipping it into the front left pocket of my jeans. Maybe I wouldn't have to lose him.

******

Rent a car from airport.

Drive home.

Knock, wait, knock, wait, kn- hugs and kisses.

"I'm only home for an hour or so, just to pack." I said, walking through the familiar halls of my childhood house and into my now quite temporary bedroom. Everything was temporary. Inevitable, life's temporariness...Yeah.

"How come?" My mother asked, leaning against my door frame. Saddness was in her eyes, I didn't have to look at her to see it. But I was on a mission. I lugged my suitcase onto my single bed and dumped out all of my dirty clothes. She laughed at the sight. I grinned sheepishly.

"Well, as you can see I'm in desperate need of some clean clothes." I said, stripping out of my muddy jeans and kicking them under the bed. I grabbed a pair of track pants and slipped those on, shrugging out of my bomber jacket and stretching. "And, I've decided after careful consideration where I'll be for the next few years of my life."

"Oh really?" She said, unimpressed. She would cross her arms, I knew she would. I lumped all of my dirty clothes into a hamper, and set them to the side while I grabbed a clean towel out of my closet.

"Yes, for certain this time." I said.

"Just like how you were certain about Alberta, California, Japan, Sweden, Paris, and Sicily?" She asked, causing me to laugh.

"They were all too...city like. I need the country, Ma." I said, walking past her and turning into the tiny bathroom. She followed as I turned on the water, slipping out of my clothes and into the shower.

"You are in the country, Alex." She reasoned. "I don't understand why you can't just stay here for a while." She said, a sad tone picking up in her voice.

"I told you before, it's personal. Soul searching, if you will." I said, rinsing the rain water out of my hair and scrubbing in some shampoo. "Besides, my flight leaves in two hours."

"Where are you planning to find yourself this time?" She asked from the other side of the curtain.

"New Zealand." I smiled. "Originally I was going to go to Australia, but New Zealand's got this great little city called Wellington. And I really think it'd be good for me." I said, smiling as I remembered the numerous pictures I'd seen online. New Zealand was quiet and beautiful. My mom sighed on the other side, leaving me.

**

"Thanks for doing my laundry." I said, eating a quick sandwhich and watching the clock.

"What on earth did you do to those jeans? They were a mess." She said, washing a few dishes.

"Someone knocked me over on the street, spilled all my stuff." I said. And then it clicked. "Wait, did you wash them!?"

"Yes, did you expect me to let the stains sit?" She asked.

"Oh my God mom..." I breathed, rushing to the dryer and ripping out the jeans. Diving into the pocket, I frowned. All that came out was a crumpled mess of illegable ink and paper particles.

"What was that?" She asked.

"Nothing."

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Hills. No, hills wasn't the right word. Mountains were before me. Mountains concealing the now setting sun. It cast fantastic rays of orange pink and purple into the sky, making my skin glow. I had a shadow. A light blue shadow. Birds were communicating off to the west. The grass was cool beneath my exposed legs. I was wearing my yellow sundress. My hair was choppy, I had cut it myself one day in impatience. However, it looked artistic, so I was quite content.

"Alex, c'mon. We aren't that slow today." Rachel called from the back door. 'Employees Only' was written in black block letters across it. Not that anyone was going to sneak in to the kitchen of the little restaurant. Especially not in this city.

I got up, breathing in the fresh air and smiling. This was how my life had been the past year. Working at a comfortable and charming restaurant during the week, and hiking into the many landscapes the country offered on my weekends. I had a comfortable flat rented not too far from my work, and I had gathered enough money to buy a scooter. I had no need for a car.

I still, however, had my messenger bag. Full of papers and note books and thoughts and dreams. It was my anchor, reminding me why I was here. Part of me wanted to force all of my family and friends to move down here. Because in truth, I was so close to winning. So close to eliminating the solar eclipse blinding me from what I had been searching for.

I slipped on my name tag as I joined Rachel at the front of the restaurant. It was just the two of us and the cook, so close to closing time. But we had a reservation, although the people were late. It was some list of forty fucking people. I really hoped they didn't order much. Rachel told me they were working on some movie about thirty minutes away.

The phone rang. I hoped it was the group canceling. I hopped onto the counter, taking out my notebook. I was running out of pages. I jotted down a few witty lines about the day, and made a note to call my mom when I got home. I also made a note to get a new notebook.

"I'll get that. Mind the door, yeah?" She said, walking to the phone. I grunted in response. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds. Ding! I sighed. Hopping off of the counter, I shoved the book and pencil back into my bag. Bellowing laughter erupted from the group as they entered, causing me to knock my bag over. I rolled my eyes, bending down to pick it all up.

A familiar sentence. A pair of hands. Those eyes.

"You have got to be joking me." I muttered, and I was face to face with the boy who's name slipped my mind. How did I let him slip my mind? Orlando. That was his name, I was sure.

"Alex?" He said after a moment. I laughed, nodding.

"Fancy seeing you here." I said, shoving my bag under the counter.

"I'm working on a film, actually. Lord of the rings." He said.

"Can't say I've heard of it, but I can say I've heard of you. Orlando, right?" I said, and he smiled. Damn was he good looking.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were following me." He teased. I raised my eyebrows.

"I do believe I lived in Kent first, and I've been here for a year." I replied, and he laughed. One of his friends cleared their throat. "Oh right, this way please." I said, pushing past him and leading the immense group to the joined tables Rachel and I had created. They all took seats, a few of them looking between Orlando and I. Noticeable chemistry was good, I figured. I rushed back to the counter to get as many menus as I could hold. I handed them around, and only a few actually looked at them. There was one man, whom was ridiculously loud, who basically ordered the entire menu for everyone. I jotted it all down, leaving them to their laughter and recollections as I marched to the kitchen.

"Paul, I do hope you've fired up the grills." I said gravely as I entered the kitchen.

"One of everything?"

"Two of the chicken dinners, and three roasts, as well."

"They want the whole lot?" Rachel asked, walking in from the phone call.

"Yeah. Who was it?"

"Roger." She replied, causing me to roll my eyes as we walked back out.

"You're lucky Maggie's left. She'd bite your head off, Ray." I said, typing up the bill to get a head start. She leaned against the counter beside me.

"Oh. My. God." She murmured.

"What?" I asked, my fingers tapping against the keypad.

"That boy is staring at you." She said.

"Stop staring at him, Ray. He'll think you're psycho."

"He's coming!" She chirped. I rolled my eyes. I saw her fix her hair a bit and smirked.

"Hi." He said lightly to her.

"She gets off when you guys are done." Rachel said. I stood up straight and looked at her.

"I'm quite capable of flirting by myself, thanks." I laughed, looking at Orlando briefly and then back down at the keypad. Rachel made a high pitched 'hmph' and left us alone.

"You didn't call." He said, smiling.

"As bad of an excuse as it sounds, my mom put my pants in the wash. The pants with your number in them." I said, laughing at the the experience. "But apparently that didn't stop fate." I replied, smiling.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Those eyes. Those eyes were what I was staring into. On the streets of L.A., his hand in mine. A coffee fresh out of the pot in the other, and my old chuck taylors on. He smirked, leaning close to me.

"Smile." He whispered, and kissed me. I laughed into the gesture, and saw the unmistakable flash of a few cameras from the distance illuminate the red of my eyelids. He kissed me much longer than necessary, but who was I to argue? I kissed him right back.

"Let's give them somethin' to talk about." I sang, as we continued down the street.

"It never ceases to amaze me how you find some song to sing. No matter what the situation is." He remarked, our joined hands swinging between us as we walked. I caught his eye. The eyes I found myself in. The ones I knew I would find myself in, long before it actually happened.

"What's your favourite memory of it?" I asked, referring to my sing-speaking. He was silent while he thought about it.

"The one about the elephant." He said. My mind flash backed to his last week of filming in New Zealand. We watched the sunset. Two years we had spent together. On the mountains was our favourite spot. I smiled, floating back to the present.

"Elephant shell; you're my cave and I've been hiding out."

We walked. One foot in front of the other, step one two; step one two. Never stepping on the cracks, because some superstitions were fun. Walking was how it started.