Of the Soul

I opened the door of our apartment, and it let out a long, unsatisfied creak as I did so. I could hear the sound of TV from the living room, where I figured my Mother would be. I kicked off my shoes and shrugged off my jacket, carelessly throwing it to the floor. I padded over to the direction the noise was coming from.

"Mom?"

I peeked over the couch, and sure enough she was there, out like a light. The house smelled like rain, mildew and burnt toast. No matter how many air fresheners we put up, it always smelled like that. It was a small place, big enough for my Mother and me, and that was it. That was all that was needed, anyways.

I smoothed feathery blonde hair from her eyes, and sighed, departing to my room quickly to practice my dancing. I had to be perfect for the audition, there was no question. I had to show this fucker up, I had to make some money for Mom. I had to.

We couldn't keep living like this. It was comfortable, something we were used to... but there was so much more. She deserved to live in a house, not a little rented apartment with an offensive odor.

I plugged my iPod into my shitty old speakers, letting my platinum curls fall over my shoulders. I hastily picked a song, and turned the volume high enough to entrance me, and quiet enough to not wake my Mother.

Then, I just danced. The only thing that made me feel worth something.

--

Blaine called me the next morning confirming the date, time and location. He told me he'd pick me up and take me there, and I'd surely be chosen.

I practiced daily for the following week before the audition. It crept up quickly, but at the same time, it felt far away. Sitting out on the sidewalk, hugging myself, waiting for Blaine to pick me up felt long awaited, but at the same time, far too soon.

I heard his car turn the corner. It had a very distinctive sound, the engine was old and creaky, and individual. I stood up, and he honked his horn excitedly as he brought the vehicle to a stop, and unlocked the passenger side door.

"You ready?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as I buckled my seat belt. I rolled my eyes at him, and shook my head.

"Ready as I can be, I guess." I shrugged my shoulders as he took off speeding down the road.

"How do you know that guy?" He asked, looking over at me curiously. Once again, I rolled my eyes. It was a frequent occurrence around Blaine.

"What guy?"

"Mac Miller. You looked like death when I said his name."

I shook my head slowly, and looked out the window, watching Pittsburgh streets wash by quickly. He looked at me expectantly, and I finally gave in and answered. "I went to school with him. We didn't get along."

"That's it?"

I shuffled uncomfortably, and nodded. Blaine decided to drop it for the rest of the car ride, and instead babbled on about what an amazing opportunity I had, how I was gonna nail it, the same typical pep talk bullshit.

I just nodded, assuring him I'd try my hardest, I'd dance the best I could, yes I'd practiced... Finally, the car came to a stop in front of a building. It wasn't old or run down, but it wasn't sophisticated either. It looked industrial, serious. I got out of the car, and followed after Blaine. He led me down a few hallways once inside, and into one large room, where I saw three people. Two familiar looking dark skinned guys, and some random chick. I trailed slowly behind, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"Hello?" One of the men said, and Blaine plastered on his fakest smile.

"Hello. This is Acacia Dearlin." He said, gesturing to me. I gave a curt wave, and looked down again at the floor.

"Oh yeah, you're our last girl." The woman piped up. I then noticed there was an empty chair in the middle of the three. "Mac will be here shortly, he just went to grab a coffee, but you can start now if you'd like."

I was quiet for a moment, and Blaine gently nudged me forward. I made eye contact with one of the guys. I think I went to high school with him, too...

"I want him to see me." I said firmly, looking back at Blaine who gave me a nod.

"He'll be here any second, really. You can start."

"A-Alright..." I said hesitantly. There were speakers that I could plug my ipod in, so I did just that, picked the song I had been practicing, inhaled deeply, and started dancing. I made damn sure I didn't look any of them in the eye. I'd freak out and get nervous, more nervous than I already was.

It was hard to believe where I was, the position I was in. At any moment, I would be seeing Malcolm. And he'd be seeing me.

As if on queue with my thoughts, the door opened, and in he sauntered. His snap back covered his short hair, and he had the slightest scruff of a beard. He carried a Starbucks cup in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other. I nearly stumbled, but I regained my focus. Now that he was here, there was a certain fire to my dancing. Revenge, maybe.

I saw him pause out of my peripheral vision, put down his coffee and take a long drag on his smoke as he watched me. I wanted to look at his expression, see his shock, his admiration that was so long overdue, but I couldn't look up, not yet.

I heard hushed whispers from the four people who were judging me. I could almost feel Blaine beaming with pride. Finally, the song died out, and I stopped, my breath coming is short gasps. I raised my eyes, and they met Mac's. The world went still. Quiet.

"That was pretty good." One of Mac's friends, or colleagues said. I smiled, and thanked him. Mac was still staring at me intently, with a look I couldn't place.

"What's your name?" He asked. His voice was so eerily familiar, and yet so absent at the same time. I just gazed at him, my mouth in a hard line.

"Cacey-" Blaine coughed. "Acacia. Acacia Dearlin." I said firmly, trying to sound confident, but my voice wavered. This wasn't how I envisioned it. How had I even envisioned it at all? This was just strange, this wasn't satisfying. I wasn't even sure if he remembered me...

"You from around here?"

I nodded. "All my life." My voice was cold. Then again, it was always cold, but this time... it was far worse.

"Yeah? How old are you?"

"Nineteen. I thought you'd know that." I scoffed.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." I crossed my arms over my chest, and Blaine slowly shook his head at me, as if to say, "just let it happen. Just let him like you."

He took a few steps forward, getting closer to me than he had been in years and I stared at him- well, really, it was more of a glare, but still...

"You're a really good dancer. Who taught you?"

"My Mom."

"That's cool..." He said quietly. He was eying me up and down like I was a new car he was interested in buying. Slowly, the feelings of why I hated him so much crept back to me. "I like you."

"Thanks?"

He turned around, and I watched him. He looked exactly the same as he did in high school, but of course, slightly older. His voice was a bit rougher, and he had less of a little child attitude about him, but he was still the same old Malcolm. I could tell. "I want her." He said to the others, and they nodded, the woman wrote down a few things, and I saw Blaine grinning so much it looked like it hurt.

"Is that okay with you?" Mac asked, turning back to look at me. Our eyes met again, and this time, mine softened. His eyes were like big puppy dog eyes, and it was hard to resist being kind when looking into them.

"Of course." I grumbled. "Otherwise I wouldn't have auditioned." I said, taking a step back, he chuckled, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah... guess I could have thought of that."

"Probably could of."

"Well..." His eyes skittered around the room, almost like I made him nervous, and I liked that. "I'll have my people call your people." He teased, jamming his hands in his pockets. "We'll let you know when and where the video shoot is."

I nodded slowly. I tried to let it sink in, but it just didn't resonate. It was unreal, Malcolm was famous... and me, the girl he picked on, was gonna be in one of his music videos.

"Thank you for your time, gorgeous." He said with a smile, and I gave him a fake smile back. It was then I realized he didn't remember me, not at all. He could have been faking it before to make it seem like he forgot the torture he put me through and just appreciated my dancing, but he would never compliment me like that.

He forgot about me.

"No, thank you." I said, walking quickly away from him. Blaine caught up with me as I was nearly at the door. "I'll see you soon." I said, winking, and taking off.

If he didn't remember me now, he surely would soon. He'd remember when I got to the video shoot with my hair not done because I had to walk... because my Mother couldn't drive me anywhere. He'd remember when he'd see me constantly checking my cell phone... He'd remember, when I'd make him. And he'd be fucking sorry.

If he had of remembered in the first place, he already would have been.