Set the World to Mute

The first and possibly only boy I ever fell for was called Bo Lineker.

And everyone fell for Bo.

Dark hair, white teeth, and eyes fixed in the far distance. The wealthy boy with painting permanently etched into his fingers, under his nails and on his skin. So electrically alive, that staying in one place, one relationship, was to him impossible. Rootless, always seeking, searching, looking for that spot where he could rest his eyes. Latch his electricity on to a current, and then stay there. Looking for the woman who would make him stay, that feeling that would anchor him, seal him in place. His love.

And I was quite simply not it.

I knew that, he knew that, and that was why it was so easy to love him, and so easy to let him go. Bo wasn’t mine, and so I couldn’t have him. Simple, like that, and still a bit sad. I don’t think I was the only one of his flings that felt that way, acceptance and loss at the same time. The sing of what could have been. The children and the house and that smile every morning.

Looking back, I realize that I am much like him. I’ve had my fair share of relationships, love stories and affairs, but I’ve always found myself looking for something… If not better, than at least not what I already had, if that makes sense.

Because what I already had, was not it.
‘

Today, Monday, I’m so frazzled I don’t know what to do with myself.

Even my run was off this morning, and I stopped and walked home halfway through, unable to find a rhythm. As I passed his home I cringed, the thinking, analyzing, and worrying from this weekend, screaming in my ear, bringing my spirits to a new low.

Well, what were you expecting, Alice? Jackie says in my head, an echo from the conversation following my panicky phone call early Saturday morning.

Good question, Jackie, I’ll have to get back to you on that.

I don’t even know what to expect as I lock myself into their apartment at three, two hours before I usually show up. My legs shake in my short shorts, and the cuddly sweater I have on does nothing to comfort me like I had hoped it would. My blonde hair pulled back in a messy braid, the rings on my fingers shaking as I twist the key.

I have the week off from lectures, and nothing to do with myself, as my life has ceased to exist over the past month, accumulating in a mess of business, pleasure and studies. I only want to be here, right where I am now, and still, right now, I’m not sure I want to be here.

I’m half expecting Sophie to somberly approach me with my dismissal neatly drawn on a piece of paper, handing me a pen to sign it, but instead she screams in delight and throws herself into my arms, much like she usually does.

“You’re early,” she says and grins.

Behind her Ben glances up through his reading glasses, distracting himself from the stack of papers in his lap for a second, as he sits with his legs crossed in the armchair by the window. Emma is nowhere to be found.

“Yeah,” I mumble, and wrap my arms around Sophie, easing her to the floor. “I have the week off, so I figured I could come around a bit earlier to help out.” I can feel Ben watching me, and timidly glance at him.

His eyes tell me nothing, and as my heart beats so loud I’m sure the entire building can hear it, he smiles, nods, and returns to his papers.

I blink, but don’t really get any time to process it before Sophie drags me off to the TV, telling me all about iCarly, and her adventures for the day. My distracted brain has more than enough work trying to follow her and her train-like mouth for the time being, and I almost forget the man I kissed is about two meters away from me, looking so good one could actually be possessed to eat him whole, clothes, glasses and all.

It isn’t until Sophie’s chatter dies down, and her head rests against my shoulder I get the chance to look at him, finding him leaned back in his chair, glasses and papers on the floor, resting his chin against his thumb, his fingers to his lips. Tiny wrinkles around his eyes. Watching us.

And suddenly, I feel good.

I blush, I bite my lip, look away, look back. His eyes flood with amusement as I silently fret. Blinks slowly, closes his mouth, smiles slightly. Watching.

I close my eyes, collect myself, and try to watch the television. Try to follow the plot, try to reply to Sophie’s comments, try to relax. Doesn’t work. I can feel him, his focus concentrated on me and his daughter as we interact. As we make sandwiches, as we clean up, as we sing along to the radio. Every time I glance at him, he’s watching with unreadable eyes, following my movements, my hands, my legs, my waist, my eyes.

It’s nice and horrible at the same time, I’m nervous, I fall out of the conversation with Sophie, I sing out of tune and out of text, and my heart beats so heavily I feel like a mid-century vacuum cleaner.

“You’re weird today,” Sophie remarks as the door to the workshop finally closes behind Ben at around five. Emma is up from her nap, sitting on the counter, happily accepting spoons of yogurt into her mouth, gurgling and making a dreadful mess.

My eyebrows raise as I look at the little brunette, sitting by the counter to my left, watching her sister eat. “Oh?”

“Mhm,” she confirms. “Daddy too, he’s quieter than usual.”

I frown at the odd statement, and keep silent as I scoop some stray yogurt from Emma’s chin into her mouth. “I suppose we’re tired,” I try to explain, “I know I’m a bit tired at least, it’s strange not being in school.”

“I’m starting school in August,” Sophie grins, apparently seeing no reason to pursue the previous conversation.

I smile and give a little laugh, “I know. You exited?”

“I can’t wait.”

«I’m sure you’ll love it,» I say, «Just think about all the new friends you’ll be making!»

“And the homework!”

I force myself not to shake my head at the fact that anyone could get exited over homework, suddenly feeling very old, and agree, “That will most certainly be something new. It’s always exiting starting something new, right?”

“Mhm. I can’t wait.”
‘

At the end of the day, I guide the girls to bed after popping by Ben’s workshop to say goodnight. He’s sitting by one of the many stations in there, putting together a chair when we enter, and spins his chair around, looking pleased by the interruption. Sophie runs into his arms, receiving a big, tight hug and a kiss, and I hand him the very sleepy Emma who he brings to his chest, looking at her with that look only parents can have.

He keeps her right there for a while, Sophie leaning against his thigh, before he kisses her soft forehead and gives me a small nod.

“Should we go to bed then?” I ask, stepping forward to pick up Emma. Sophie looks sour at that, but Ben gives her a look and smacks her bum lightly to follow me, and she begrudgingly lets me take her to bed.

When I come back to the workshop to say goodbye for the evening, my pulse rising at the thought of being alone with him, it’s empty. I notice the window is open. I consider leaving a note to say goodnight, but settle on climbing out on the roof, knowing I’ll find him there. Nothing will happen unless you make it happen. My nerves can’t bear another day like this.

He flicks his cigarette away as I sit down next to him, and I watch as he calmly pulls out a new one from his packet, tapping it against his fingers. Always two. My eyes eat up his cheeks as they hollow, and he drags the smoke into his lungs. He glances at me, then exhales, pulling a pad up from his breast pocket with his left hand, tossing it unceremoniously into my lap. He watches me as I read his scribbles.

‘What did Friday mean?’

I close my mouth and look at him, his eyes quite seriously watching me, his cigarette burning between his fingers. I look at the pad again, following the curve of the words, obviously prepared before I came. Then I meet his eyes, pushing a stray hair away from my face. "You know what it meant." I say quietly, my heart beating loudly against my ribs. He holds my eyes for a long moment. Green-grey eyes searching mine, and I bite my lip, looking away.

He brings my face to meet his with his fingers, snaking his other hand around my wrist, tugging me into him. I slide closer and let him take my face in his palms, my hands folding around his, feeling the attitude from seconds ago melt away. He looks into my eyes for what seems forever, the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepening, and his mouth tightly pressed shut.

I heart hops along like mad as he rests his forehead against mine, his hand stroking my cheek before following the curve of my neck, falling to my waist, pulling me towards him, making our bodies connect. His eyes glint as I lean forward, placing my hand on his hard stomach, our lips almost meeting, but not quite.

He smells like smoke and wood and glue and cologne, and I smile as he smiles, and finally he leans in and kisses me. I turn to goo in his arms, and ease into the soft kiss, feeling the stubble on his upper lip scratch mine, his soft, warm breath brush across my face, his tongue against mine.

He tastes like smoke. I want it to never stop.

When he pulls back, my heart is pumping warm blood around my body, the chill from before vanquished, and an exhilarating rush is tittering in my nerves.

I bring my hand to his eyebrows, brushing away the line between them with my fingertip.