Grey

My car was old and battered, showing all the signs of age. It was out-dated, and the paint was peeling, but as a student, it was all I could afford. I sold it soon after she left. I couldn’t stand it anymore. The car I had once loved was now only filled with memories of the girl I was trying so hard to forget. The cracked leather seats still smelt like her, the mix tapes she made for me were still stacked in the glove box compartment, her sweater still thrown across the back seat.

It was in that very car that I picked her up for our first real date. I was nervous enough already, and my malfunctioning car didn’t help. The engine was testy, and it sometimes stopped working without warning. I remember the way she’d smiled at me when I explained this to her.

I’d just picked her up from her apartment, said hello to her seventeen year old brother, August, before leading her back outside to where my car was parked on the street. I noticed how her eyes brightened when they landed on it. She looked at me and smiled that smile as I hurriedly tried to explain the multiple problems with my car.

She placed her finger over my lips and told me to be quiet. Then she looked right into my eyes and said: “I like it.” I remember how surprised I was. Grey was always surprising me with the little things she did or the things she said. I opened her door for her and shut it after she was inside, walking back around to the driver’s side.

She turned and smiled at me when I got in. I smiled back at her, thinking that the most extraordinary girl in the whole world was sitting in the most ordinary car with the most ordinary boy in the whole world. The world’s a big place, and I often felt insignificant. But with Grey, I felt like I was someone. Like I meant something. Like…living was worth it. I could go on about how she made me feel for a long time.

I was worried about driving with her, afraid I wouldn’t have anything to say to fill the awful silence. Grey took care of that just fine. She started looking through my tape collection - my car was so old that it didn’t have a CD player installed.

“Why aren’t any of these labelled?” she asked. I smiled and loosened my grip on the steering wheel, relaxing a little. It was late afternoon, and the last of the sun was streaming in through the open windows, illuminating Grey’s angelic face.

“I don’t know what’s on any of them,” I replied. She gave me a strange look and I laughed.

“I’ve had them for years. My niece made them for me, she loves music. She’s into all the good stuff, too. A real old soul,” I explained, feeling stupid for spilling all that useless information to her. Grey smiled and put one of the tapes in, squealing in delight when the first track started to play.

“This is The Smiths!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I love them!” I listened to her sing along as she turned the volume up and leant back in her seat, the wind whipping her hair around her face. It seemed I never stopped smiling on that September drive.

I took her to one of my favourite places; a tiny Italian restaurant in the city, just far enough away from everywhere else to feel secluded. We sat at a table outside, a lit candle between us. As the sky began to darken, the city came to life, the bright lights breathtaking from our position. Fairy lights hung in the front window of the restaurant, making the place feel even more magical.

“How did you find this place?” she asked me, her eyes widening as she looked out at the lights of New York City. I smiled and looked over at her, wondering why a girl like her had ever bothered to go on a date with a boy like me.

“My niece,” I said. “Italian is her favourite. She tried to teach herself to speak Italian once, but apparently online translators aren’t very accurate, as she soon found out.”

Grey laughed her jingle-bell laugh and rested her face in her hand, looking across the table at me. “You seem fond of her,” she said. I smiled and nodded, envisioning my eleven-year-old niece, bright-eyed and enthusiastic.

“She’s a trouble-maker,” I said with a smile. “She called me from her school to bail her out of the principal’s office once. She was too afraid to call her mum.”

“Why?” Grey asked with a laugh, her eyes sparkling.

“My sister is not a very pleasant person,” I said with a shrug. Grey grinned back at me. I remember exactly what she ordered on that first date of ours. Pasta Fazzoletti ripieni di Porcini, Vitello, Ricotta e Parmigiano. A complicated name for a home made pasta folded and filled with mushrooms, veal, ricotta and parmesan. Sometimes I go back there and order that exact meal and eat it alone, my mind swamped with memories of that first date.

I used to wonder about the people that ate in restaurants alone. Why were they there, and more importantly, why alone? Why did they go to a restaurant filled with couples and families and friends and so many smiling faces to just sit there and eat alone, that dazed look in their eye? I understand completely now. These people that eat alone in restaurants, they’re not really alone, you see. They’ve got their own ghosts and demons to keep them company.

I didn’t want that night to end. I didn’t want to drive her home right away. I didn’t care what we did; I just wanted to be around her a little longer.

“Do you want to go home yet?” I asked her as we left the restaurant. She looked over at me, her eyes shining.

“Do you?” she shot back at me, a cheeky smile settling on her features. I shook my head and smiled, my cheeks heating up. Just as I was wondering what to say next or where we should go, Grey was taking my hand and leading me to a fire escape on a nearby apartment block.

“Where are we going?” I asked her as we ran up the steps hand-in-hand, my heart slamming against my ribcage so hard I feared it would break. Grey looked over at me as we continued to race up the steps, grinning like a mad woman.

“The top of the world,” she told me, just as we reached the roof. I let her lead me to the edge of the roof and sat down beside her, our legs dangling over the side, the bright, city streets below us. I glanced sideways at Grey and watched the way her eyes reflected the bright lights of the New York City skyline, the smile never leaving her face.

“What are you thinking about?” I said suddenly, surprising myself.

“You,” Grey replied with an easy smile, tilting her head sideways to look at me. I could feel my cheeks burning and was grateful for the darkness.

“I don’t think anybody has thought about me before,” I said, looking out over the city.

“I’m not just anybody.”

She couldn’t have been more right.