Audio Tapes

I was waiting for a cross-town train
In the London underground

"Really, Ian, we'll be fine, I just have to get on the tube..."

An idea hit me, just then, like a flying disk knocked into my head, then swung back around in a boomerang style and went for it again, the sound reverberating through my head. "Ow..."

"Mind the gap."

"You alright, mate?"

These two voices conflicted each other, only worsening the sudden headache. Why did I always have to go running back when I was finally ready to move on?

"Yeah, I'm fine. I-I've got to go. I can't make it, today, sorry. I'll see You."

"Wait, what? Uh...alright. See You."

So I changed my plans

The trip down to Goldsmiths at the Cardinal Plaza to shop for my sister's engagement ring with her potential fiancée and my best friend was no longer of importance. All that really mattered to me, as I turned on my heel, was finding You, and learning what love could really be like. And I would. I'd get my movie-screen romance. Given there was time added on.

I dialed the number engrained into my brain, the music that You always had on Your mobile for waiting calls playing through the tiny speaker. You must have deleted my number, because Your tone gave away both Your curiosity and confusion.

"Hello?"

Your voice hardened when You realized that it was me, but You listened to me, anyway. The streets above the tube were noisy and obnoxious, and You regularly asked for me to repeat myself. In short, it all came down into one question. Well, more or less, proposition, since I didn't really even ask You.

"I need You to pretend that we are in love again"
And You agreed to

In fifteen minutes, we were to meet at the old diner off Gresham, and the van I had rented earlier that week to help Ian's proposal was ready and waiting at the apartment. Thank goodness, because I was suddenly very, very low on time.

Cursing myself for lack of preparedness in this situation, I stole Callum from his video games and stuffed him into the Slimer, luring him in with a bag of his favourite crisps. We had already dubbed the van with its title 'The Slimer' because of the suspicious scum we had found under the back seat, as well as the audacious neon-green colour of the vehicle. That, alone, was enough to earn it a name.

The camera equipment was already in back, loaded with plenty of film and other accessories I would be quick to learn about within the next hour. It's not like this was going to be a multi-million dollar production. I just needed to do this.

I want so badly to believe
That there is truth, that love is real

Cal called me crazy as we pulled onto the street, his words fading into the background as he reached forward to fiddle with the dials and doodads on the consol, turning up the volume of the radio. His voice was horrible and he never hit a single of the notes, but he was such a happy camper. In a sense, he was a character, despite being Autistic, and his floppy black hair fell over his eyes constantly. There was a reason Ian and I had practically adopted him, back in grade school.

Pulling into the lot, I was greeted by a very anxious You, jumping up and down with excitement. You weren't seeing anyone, and I couldn't help but allow for my spirits to lift. They had been suppressed for so long, I merely assumed that it was time that they were released from their prison.

Your smile, alone, was a relic of old, from times that I should have long since forgotten. Your eyes still glittered with that glint of sunlight and the stars were put to shame. Deities, I missed You so much.

We found an empty booth inside, Callum too quick to grasp the attention of the barista and rushed to order himself something to eat. Thank goodness he had his own income, or Ian and I wouldn't have the money to pay tuition, any more.

I always knew there was a reason that I had originally fallen in love with You. You were so animated, always with a smile and bearing down on other people's depression. Even now, after both of us had mutually agreed to end the relationship, You were helping me.

And I want life in every word
To the extent that it's absurd

That's what I found. I always found what I wanted, with You; You meant every single syllable, and You never spoke of something You knew would hurt someone. You never said anything You'd later regret, and never intentionally abused someone with Your words. How I had let someone like You slip through my fingers not once, but twice, was...simply unspeakable. But, today, I sought to amend that. It wasn't by chance that I had chosen You for my project.

Once Cal rejoined us, You shot us both another smile, and my heart melted. How could I let myself do this? What if You didn't accept it?

These thoughts were shaken when You kissed my cheek in reassurance. You thought we were already pretending. Well, maybe You were pretending, but...I sure wasn't. Every look You shot me, good or bad, appraising or condescending, raised the hairs on my arms and sent chills down my back. And not just the one time. Every single time.

I greased the lens and framed the shot
Using a friend
As my stand-in

Callum had his arm around You, his unsure and confused expression making us both laugh; You and I. When I finished setting up, his feet shuffled as they usually did when he was nervous before he finally found his way back to the van. It wasn't hard. When the sun was shining right on that thing, it lit up like the London Eye full of fireworks and burping out candles. Not that I'd ever seen that. Or maybe I had.

In a dream, of course. A crazy, crazy dream. Probably the same one that inspired this conjuration of such a spell that I hoped would send us spiraling back into love. It just wouldn't work out, like that.

The script, it called for rain
But it was clear that day
So we faked it

Of the 364 days a year that it was raining, this was that one exception. Of course it had to work out like this. But You said "No, no, let it be; it's more unique, this way." A breeze had picked up then, shooting up from around the Thames and sucking Your hair into its grasp, yanking it out of the lazily delicate bun You had previously been sporting. You laughed, eyes crinkling as You squinted in the sunlight. It shot off of Your hair, the gleam all but shocking to the untrained eye; and I thought I could no longer be shocked by You.

I was wrong.

The marker snapped
And I yelled, "Quiet on the set!"

You still didn't know what was going on. You happily stood where I positioned You, giggling like a school-girl idiot. But You weren't an idiot. You could never be. How could there be someone that was so perfect? All the answers to my questions were right in front of me. That's just the way it is.

Just to make it old fashioned, and to make You laugh one last time, I held up a marker, reading off the take and random words. You laughed, snorting the way that You always had when You were genuinely having a good time. You always tried to cover it up, but You never could. And You could never force it out, either. It just worked out that way.

Your gaze was turned upward in a smile, arms spread wide as the wind kicked up a notch, just as it always did in the movies. How did I get so lucky? I was blessed just to have You in my life, to still have You as a friend. But that was me. Always pushing for more.

You remained silent as I hit record, still not a word escaping Your pretty little lips as I made my way to stand by Your side, angling myself just right. I had never done well, in front of cameras. My cheeks always turned a blotchy red and heated up my face, no matter the circumstances. Even when I was as confident as a professional hockey player out on the ice, I still received nature's gift of scarlet dusted cheeks.

The lighting was just right, and I moved to You. Only then did You train Your eyes on me, the tame smile brightening once more as You cocked Your brow, inquiring.

"Are You ready?"

You still didn't know. If You did, I don't know how You would have found out. Maybe it was just body language. But I think You knew. You knew all along. You just knew me too well.

But perhaps I was just one step ahead of You.

And then called, "Action!"

The view from where I was suddenly changed, and I was no longer holding You. My arms were around Your waist no more. Instead, I was digging around in my Levi's pocket, producing a chic little green box. Black velvet was too cliché.

"I don't want You to answer because of the camera. Just like in life, there is no script for this movie. I want to marry You. And I know we've messed it up int he past, and that we've made mistakes, but if You give me the cha—"

"Yes."

And I kissed You in a style
Clark Gable would have admired
(I thought it classic)

I won't even bother to try explaining my feelings in that one moment. I won't try to say how excited I was, how relieved, how...overall enchanted I was by Your tears. How could someone fall victim to the water works so quickly?

I rushed to meet You, to kiss You, to hold You again, and You let me. You let me. And in that one kiss, I felt more love than I had ever felt in my entire life. I couldn't believe it. First Ian, and then me. There must have been some inspiration kicked up by his Big Boy Trousers, the braces that You instantly hooked Your fingers in. I always wore those, because You liked them. Especially my cerulean ones; You said they were Your favourite colour. You later told me that they matched my eyes perfectly.

I wore those ones, that day.

Because You loved them; now I know that You love me.

I know You're wise beyond Your years
But do You ever get the fear
That Your perfect verse is just a lie
You tell Yourself to help You get by?

None of this ever happened. I never got engaged, and Ian married my sister. We found the perfect ring for her, and that was that. I'd gone to Goldsmiths with my best friend, and I never took You and Callum for an outing of that discription. Don't You hate it when Your imagination gets the best of You? When You lose what You love most? I do. I hate it more than I hate myself for letting You slip by, and not calling back on my promise to my soon-to-be brother. Why didn't I? I was so stupid. Stupid, stupid Me.

While the intercom announced the arrival of the next train of rail cars, someone came up alongside me, smiling as they did so. She turned with that same cheeky grin, and I realized that it was You. Or was that a lie, too?

"'Lo."

I was in denial, disbelief written across my face as I struggled to let the simple syllable pass my lips.

"Hey."

Someone was fighting in the background, but I didn't hear what they were saying. The noise grew louder, but that's all I remember about it.

"Where are You off to?"

"I..." I coughed in an effort to clear my throat, but my eyes couldn't leave Yours for fear that You would disappear. "Uh...Slough. My sister asked me to swing by, help her paint for an hour or so. I'm only going because I owe her a favour. Er...You?"

"Same."

The fighting grew louder, suddenly, and an elbow flew into my temple, knocking me senseless for a brief moment, but just long enough. The man who had thrown himself into me—supposedly unintentionally, of course—was then fully assaulted by his commrade, who threw both their bodies into me. Mind You, I was well behind the yellow line, and those obnoxious little white letters. "Mind the gap," ha. So patronizing. Only small children could fall between that space, and they wouldn't be able to read those words.

Just my luck, however, because the train had yet to arrive, and was seconds away from doing so. I was thrown onto the tracks, papers flying from my case. Those were files for my sister's wedding. They were files from my computer, compositions I had since written, unfinished novels, You name it. Those were my papers.

You were so quick to tears.

"Are you okay?!"

"Ow."

I was waiting for a cross-town train
In the London underground
When it struck me

"Mind the gap."