The More You Chase It

James continued to visit the small art gallery and he and Daisy continued to see each other when he wasn’t working. He found spending time with her was a part of his life completely different from everything else. She wasn’t like his friends from acting, or his teachers or his classmates. It was like they had been friends longer than 4 months. She was more down to Earth than anyone else he knew, and more humble, and perhaps even more beautiful. Daisy too enjoyed their friendship as something different than what she was used too. He seemed so genuine and unique.

***

July 7th, 2010
{Daisy}

My sister and Andrew smiled as I stood at the door. It was a familiar enough occurrence saying good-night after dinner with them. However, today something was different. Something small. James was standing beside me. We were friends now and I had met his brother Dave. It was time for him to meet my sister. I mean he seemed to be such a fan of her work anyways.

“Thanks for inviting me over to dinner. The food was amazing,” James had been so courteous since we arrived at my sister’s house.

The charm oozed off of him so effectively I could even see it getting to Andrew’s usually calm demeanour. He seemed somewhat in awe of James though if you didn’t know him, you’d never be able to tell.

“Thanks for coming. It’s nice to finally have you over. You broke a new record when you bought that third piece today.”

“Your sister is quite the persuasive sales person,” a smile played on his lips when he looked over at me. A familiar flirtatious glint was in his eye. Our dynamic allowed for flirting but I think I knew deep down a friendship is all a guy like James would be looking for from me, and I didn’t really want a boyfriend.

I had thought that so many times I was starting to question it but only passively.

“Yeah, too bad I only have her for the summer,” Clara smirked at me from her spot beside Andrew. She was obvious reading into his charm more than she should. She didn't understand that this was just how he was. Effortless.

Andrew's arm wrapped around her so she was tight against him. Sometimes they were just way too perfect.

I rolled my eyes, “Hah, you can pretend to be the loving sister all you want, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Andrew laughed, “she’s got you pegged Clara.”

“Shush.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at Clara’s pouting face. For a second I thought Andrew was going to kiss her but he didn’t move a muscle.

“Anyways, thanks for having us for dinner. The roast was delicious.” I thanked her for the first time as I opened the door.

“No worries. And come into the gallery any time you like James.”

James chuckled as we walked out of the house, “They have to be the most perfect couple I have ever seen.”

“I know.”

“How can you stand living around that all the time?”

I pulled a cigarette out of a pack from my purse as and offered James one. He took it and I lit it for him.

“It’s not that bad.” The smoke puffed from my lips into the warm night air. We stopped by the street, I wasn’t one for smoking in my car and the weather wasn’t bad at all.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t it make you feel... I don’t know what I’m saying.”

I laughed, took a drag, “no, I know what you’re saying, and yeah I guess a little but relationships aren’t really my thing. I’m not suited for them.”

“How many have you been in?” James looked curious, as if this question was more important than the rest had been.

“I guess I’ve only been in one real relationship but I’ve been with other guys.”

James nodded, his cigarette coming up to his lips and his eyes squinting out into the dark. He looked as though he was thinking about something intently.

“How do you know you’re not suited for them if you’ve only been in one?”

I shrugged, “I guess I just know.”

We both finished our smokes without talking. It wasn’t at all awkward it was more relaxing. His presence was too perfect to describe. I drove to his place and he invited me up to help put up a piece he had bought that day. Increasingly, as we had been spending time together, I noticed that there was a kind of sexual tension between us. Some remarks seemed to take on some hidden meaning for me. I hated to admit that sometimes I thought about his toned arms and how they’d feel wrapped tight around me. My mind would wander sometimes when he spoke to the marvel of his lips. But that’s not to say I wanted a relationship. Sometimes I just wanted to be his friend AND kiss him whenever I felt like it. I didn’t want a relationship. All they do is trap you.

It was getting really late but the painting was finally in the perfect place on the wall. If he kept up at this rate his whole apartment would be wallpapered in the obscure work of my sister. It would look more like a gallery of her work than her gallery did.

“It’s up.” James smiled a proud, relieved smile beside me. I looked over at him, my eyes wandering from his sunkissed curls—which had grown quite long—down his blue button up shirt, fitting jeans, to the grey socks on his feet. These were the moments when it hit me how truly attractive he was, no wonder at all really why he had become such a star. It amazed me how down to Earth he still remained.

“Indeed it is. It looks good.”

James nodded, “It’s perfect.”

Footsteps padded along the hardwood floor behind us, “How many is that now?”

It was accompanied by Dave’s familiar chuckle.

“Three, which officially makes your brother our biggest customer.”

“This calls for a drink,” James disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing moments later with a large bottle of wine.

“Fancy.”

Dave slipped on his jacket and a crooked smirk much like James’s lingered on his lips.
“Actually, I was just heading out but you guys have fun.”

I liked that James had such a close relationship with his family. His brother Dave didn’t live with him but he would come and go as he pleased, as if James’s apartment was his second home. We had met a few times and he was a really nice guy. It was weird when the two were together because despite the fact that the 7 year age gap between them was 2 years more than between James and I, they were so similar. And not just in a physical sense.

After Dave left we opened up the bottle of wine and looked through James’s record collection. We sprawled out over the living room floor with the records, changing it every once in a while. I was starting to feel slightly tired and was already on my third glass of wine when we put on the second record. The dark red liquid was warm as it flowed from the cool glass down my throat.

“This record is amazing,”

James adjusted the couch cushion behind his back. He had brought it down to the floor and made himself more comfortable. “Yeah, I found it a couple of years ago. I thought you’d like it, it’s a really raw kind of blues. The harmonica is heartbreaking."

I moved over to rest my head on his stomach like he was a pillow, so we formed a ‘T’ shape on the carpeted floor. The smell of his cologne had become a familiar and comforting one. That night it mixed with the smell of the wine, a combination I could get used to. It pulled me closer to him without thought, my cheek finding its way to his shirt so my nose could breath it in. I could see him hesitate at first, as if I took him by surprise, but I then felt his hand rest in my nest of dark brown hair. His body was warm and like this I could feel how strong the contours of his body were.

“I’ve been wondering, how do you manage all the things you do?” I asked enjoying the rise and fall of his body beneath my head. I stared up at him, blinking intently.

His answer was immediate, as if he had been asked a million times before, “I don’t like to sleep that much.”

“Ok, well then, why do you do all the things you do?”

He took a sip from his glass in his free hand, “Because I love them. I don’t do anything I don’t love, not anymore.”

“and you never feel like you’ve accomplished it all?”

“When Einstein came up with his ideas of relativity and changed science forever, do you think he just stopped? He didn’t think, I’ve made my contribution to science I’m stopping here.” James paused thoughtfully, his hand had left my hair to make familiar gestures as he spoke, I loved his hand gestures. “Not that I’m Einstein. I just think it’s close minded and naive to ever think you’ve made it. There are an infinite number of things to do, and the more of them you do, the more you find that you love.”

His words had come out with a passion only a real nerd could understand and in the moment I knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You’re a very passionate person.” I don’t know why I felt it had to be stated but I let it out anyways.

The serious look on James’s face was relaxed into a hearty smile as he looked down at me, his hand went towards my hair again but I grabbed it and started to play with it.

“Everyone is passionate if they find something important to them. They just don’t bother looking.”

I traced the large vein on his hand around to his wrist and up his arm when I stopped on a rather large bruise.

“What happened here?” I asked sitting up to get a better look at it. Just below his elbow on the inside of his arm was a large bruise with a small cut. I couldn’t tell what had made the cut but it looked small and rough like it had been done with something dull. I lightly ran my thumb over it but he didn’t even flinch so obviously it didn’t hurt.

“Oh, that’s just from filming.”

The answer was sceptical, “how?”

“Remember the movie I told you about that was based on a true story? It seemed like an interesting project because it was mostly done in monologue type sequences...”

“The one about the mountain climber?”

“Yeah, well in a scene he cuts his...” he gestured to the arm I was still holding, “and when we were filming the scene I actually got a few scratches and war wounds.”

“That’s intense,” I looked at his arm wishing I could take away the scratches while simultaneously wondering why he got so into these roles. It was a good quality but at the same time it worried me.

“It’s ok, it’s fine. Filming is done anyways.” He smiled and patted his stomach where my head had been, so I returned to my previous position.

“I don’t know why but that reminds me, I started that book I borrowed from you.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s definitely good, I’m just not completely sure how I feel about it yet”

“How much have you read?”

His long fingers swept through my hair, brushing the skin of my scalp, calming every nerve in my body to a restful daze. This feeling was some sort of reminder of how being in a relationship with Daniel had felt, only this felt better. So much better. Not that I loved James.

“The first couple of poems, they all seem so unapologetic no matter what subject matter they are covering.”

“That’s part of why I love it so much, it makes the voices seem more human.”

“I think it does the opposite.”

“Most people are unapologetic for most of the shit they do.”

“Are you suggesting people can’t be genuinely apologetic?”

“No, I’m just saying that most people aren’t.”

I jumped up from the floor and over to the book case. James called after me, “what are you doing?”

He seemed a little surprised as I scanned the bindings of the books for a title I had seen the other day. Upon spotting the familiar book I pulled it out of its place and stopped the record playing on the way back to my spot.

James spotted the book in my hand, “and what do you have there?”

“One of my favourite novels. I noticed you had it when I was over here a while ago.”

“Which novel?”

I rested my head back on the warmth and firmness of his stomach. I didn’t answer his question, I wanted to test Mr. English major. He waited as I exaggeratedly cleared my throat before I began to read out loud, “Jewel and I came up from the field, following the path in single file. Although I am fifteen feet ahead of him, anyone watching him from the cottonhouse can see Jewel’s frayed and broken straw hat a full head above my own...”

“Ah, Faulkner is always a good choice,” James said softly as if he didn’t want to interrupt.

I continued reading the rest of the first page. I wasn’t planning to continue to the second but James didn’t stop me and once I started I got into the familiar story. Page after page I read aloud and listened to the soft breathing of James beneath me. I read until I started getting too tired and my words got quieter and my eyelids heavy. James stopped me.

“You look tired. You should probably sleep.”

“But I love Dewey Dell’s chapter. He’s my favourite narrator.”

James took the book from my hands making me pout at him but he didn’t close it like I expected him to. He mimicked my throat clearing from earlier and began to read Dell’s chapter. I smiled. A man that will read to you when you are too tired to go on yourself is the best kind of catch. My hand found its way to the biceps of his free arm and I left it there. I liked the feel of his muscle firm in my hand and I was too hazy with wine to realize that was probably kind of weird. He didn’t seem to mind though, and that was part of why I felt so comfortable around him. I could pretty much follow through on any of my strange impulses—like the way I was currently groping his arm—and he wouldn’t complain, he would smile. And as his voice floated the well-known words of As I Lay Dying down over me, I drifted into a very pleasant sleep.

When I awoke the next morning I was in a large bed and an unfamiliar room. I could easily recall falling asleep on James and figuring this must have been his bedroom. There were more books in here, piled on a big dark wood desk in the corner of the room with a laptop. Messy piles of his clothes were on the floor. I was still fully clothed, he must have brought me up here to sleep.

The clock beside the bed read 9 and downstairs I could hear movement and voices. I followed the sounds down the stairs, now knowing what was behind the doors at the top of them, and to the kitchen where I found James and Dave laughing over a bowl of Corn Pops.

“Morning Daize.” James said when he saw me.

I smiled weakly, still half asleep.

“Good morning Daisy.” Dave said and I nodded at him.

They both laughed at my lazy responses. I’m not very functional when I wake up.

“Would you like a cup of coffee? There’s some left in the pot.” James asked as he stood from his stool at the bar and grabbed his mug.

“Yes please,” I took a seat beside Dave.

"I didn't think you were in any state to drive last night so I put you in my bed. Hope you don't mind."

I didn't, James's bed was comfy.

Dave held a box out to me, “Corn Pops?”

“No I’m good thanks.”

When James returned with two steaming mugs of coffee, one for himself and one for me Dave wondered out loud where his was, joking that James was blatantly choosing favourites. As the two bickered with each other jokingly and I drank the hot bitter liquid from the mug I felt more at home than I had in a really long time. And the happiness from that was different from all my hobbies and interests and my sister. It was a strange feeling of belonging that I didn't want to end.