Audio Tapes

When was the last time you gave your American gold-digging girlfriend a gift? For me, I would have to say it was a month ago, on a date for celebration of landing the job of my dreams; museum curator at a locally respected hall of art that I'd practically grown up in.

You may wonder where Sydney comes into active role, what with the mention and all of her being with me just for the money. I do come from money, and a lot of it, considering that most small towns don't have a giant museum or even a mansion that welcome you into the area on either side. And that's just the thing; there are only two ways into Steelburg. Unless, of course, you're some hick and what you desire most in your life is to off-road in some four-wheel-drive vehicle and destroy proper English shrubbery. In that case, there are still only two entrances. It's sad, I know, but my mother designed it, herself. Yeah, we had that kind of wealth. We owned the land, even though my father wasn't mayor. It wasn't his...thrill in life, politics. He likes racing and cars. Mum is the designer of everything, from landscaping to casual or even chic clothing.

Yup; we're the super-family.

So, when I found a doll in the nostalgia shop, my initial thoughts were "Sydney would love this!" The catch was that, no more than a second later, I heard a woman's voice, cooing over an ugly poodle decorated just outside the door. The familiar sound of disgust when she obviously turned to look inside the building she stood next to was expected, and I knew exactly the sort of person this girl was.

She was like my Syd.

In an effort to save another man the troubles of having a girlfriend that was in love with your money, not you, I left the position I had stationed myself in. After I caught sight of the couple, I couldn't move. Not that I didn't want to intrude on their magical moment of snogging right in front of a crowd of children, most likely a parade for a bash or of the likes, but the woman...

She was my Syd.

I fell in love with a windup souvenir.
I bought it downtown as I was on my way to meet you;
She sounds like the songs you used to sing to put me to sleep.

I ignored her calls, her commutative SMS, and even her, when she came to the house to theoretically 'apologize.'. But through her tears and per-smeared makeup, her eyes were the least emotional of all.

How do you cry with inanimate eyes?

When you're at least faking it, you have some sort of emotion, some feeling, some take to the situation. You don't just sit there and let your eyes still over and your lungs heave with heavy sobs. You have to feel something. But, thinking on it, I never once saw her give me a real grin. When I gave her a gift or even some money for shopping with her girlfriends, there was the smirk. When we kissed, she never had but a crooked glance to her lips.

You're never gonna smile with the way that you are.

That doll, though... She was something else. I fell in love with that windup souvenir, when she saved me from meeting Syd. Of course I bought her. She saved me; she saved me from the worst engagement and wedding a man could imagine, saved my life, and turned everything around. I hadn't really cared that Syd didn't love me. But, deep down, I hated everything about her. I've hated her for a long time. I would quote with lyrics and say that "hate is a strong word, but I really, really, really don't like you," but I wasn't stupid. That doll reminded me of things I had shoved into the recess of my mind and forgot.

At least she would tell me everything she wanted,
if she could even talk.

Those songs that she plays? Sydney doesn't even cross my mind, anymore; my thoughts are filled with placements of pieces in the gallery, of my new apartment, of the fiancée I never thought that I would obtain.

So I thank that windup doll, and
when I hold her too tight,
I know she'll break
But she just takes some glue to stay.

I don't miss Sydney. I don't miss my credit cards disappearing at random intervals of time and reappearing who knows when, only after being maxed out. I don't miss telling my mates that
"No one's gonna fix me when I'm broke."

I don't have that worry, anymore. I don't worry about funds running out, because Audrey has her own source of income, and she's sensible. She knows everything, and there's a reason she's to be my wife, through mutual agreement. Love; simple as that.

I feel so all alone
no longer.