Two Hundred and Thirty

If I’d learnt anything out here it was that there was no better feeling of contentment than watching the sun disappear behind the ridged skyline. All things that sat inside my brain withered away with the presence of the sun and in the situation I was in at that moment, my favourite albums playing one after the other complemented it in every way it could. The conversation between the pair of us fluttered in stops and starts just like the breeze that occasionally folded in through the window, not too heavy either. An apology went unsaid and unheard between us, despite the apparent necessity for one. It was like a silent agreement that one was not needed and whatever had been done was enough.

“Where are you meeting him tonight then?” John said with a hint of a smirk in his tone as if this was funny to him.

I flicked my hair off my face that a gust of wind had just disturbed, “Some wine bar, I can’t remember the name of it.”

His eyes flicked in my general direction but did not find me, “It’s not Benny’s is it?”

“Yeah, that’s the one, why?” I responded.

“That place is a dump.” He said bluntly.

I shrugged, I didn’t particularly care. It struck me that I wasn’t nervous, nor did I have any hint of emotion or feeling towards the evening, I really could not have cared any less.

“Don’t get too wasted, will you?” He did the same again, where his eyes flitted in my direction. The playful tone of his words in relation to the only time he’d seen me after a drink was lined with a serious implication of concern that he probably intended to go unnoticed.

We were getting closer to town. A lone streetlight spotlighted us, highlighting in moonlight blue the veins on his arm that seemed to vine their way across his skin and through his flesh up to the steering wheel.

“I won’t.” I laughed a little.

The rest of the drive was a quiet one and when I could see the two unsuited tower blocks in the distance I wished I knew of something else to say. There was an overwhelming feeling of waste as we’d spent so much of the journey in light conversation and it was now coming to an end without anything of any worth being said. Not that I could think of anything I wanted to have discussed though.

We pulled into a parking space, the sky being completely blocked out by the concrete structures in front of us as we stepped out. We came together at the door after John had locked up and I became suddenly aware of the soft fabric of his shirt against my exposed shoulder. We walked into the complex together and as if again in a joint agreement, we stopped in the center just before the two opposing staircases.

“Thanks for today, I had a good time.” I smiled weakly, the only sound other than my voice being the buzz of one of the failing lights overhead.

“Anytime,” He nodded, his lip curling as if he was fighting off a grin.

“I -um, I better be going.” I folded my arms across my chest.

He nodded and the grin faded, “I’ll let you know next time something comes up… you can come with us.” He said, rubbing his right palm along his other wrist.

“That’d be nice, thanks.” I smiled.

“Nice.” He repeated with mocking arrogance laced between the letters. His eyes glistened in a way that wasn’t even possible and his teeth light up his entire face with a burning warmth.

I laughed, “I’ll see you soon, John.”

He turned swiftly to face the staircase and without turning back said, “See you around…” I stood watching him walk away with an aching grin across my lips that I hadn’t consciously put there. I carried on watching him absentmindedly but he didn’t seem to notice, “Oh yeah,” he carried on as if something had just struck him like lightening; he turned around with the same shit-eating grin on his face, “don’t do anything I would.”

I laughed whole heartedly and his smirk grew wider. We stayed like that for what could have been an eternity, the space between us being the only thing that held us apart, until, slowly, he drew his gaze away from me, shook his head and disappeared up the staircase.

…

Benny’s wasn’t a dump. It wasn’t even remotely like a dump. Neon blue lights lined the windows, giving the shiny, black décor inside a metallic look to it. The outside was tiled in gorgeous black tiles that looked as if they had been polished every hour on the hour and where supposedly flowers or hanging baskets should have been, metallic coloured lava lamps glowed in the dark. Two huge bouncers stood on the door with numerous tags around their necks, letting in sophisticated looking adults with patent shoes to match the décor of the bar.

I trotted across the concrete of the parking lot and joined the line of people to get inside. It seemed like everyone in town knew that this was the place to be and made sure they were a part of it.
Faintly, through the tinted windows, I saw a man stand up and head towards the door. My eyes followed him until his head popped out of the door between the two bouncers. He nodded to the pair of them before gesturing to me to come forward. I didn’t recognise anything about him other than the incredible grin he gave me as I started to move forward; Marcus of course.

I don’t know who else I expected it to be, but maybe I was wishing that it was someone else, anyone else so that this evening wasn’t so completely out of my hands. He greeted me with an arm around my shoulder and a peck on my cheek and I think he may have said something but by that point we had already walked through the door and my hearing was practically disabled.

Marcus led me to a booth at the far end of the bar, away from the dance floor. He shuffled onto the seat, his trousers slipping tighter and looser with every movement. He wore a suit practically, just minus the tie. I felt somewhat underdressed wearing a dress that I’d had since my aunts birthday three years ago. It was a good job though that I went against my normal attire and wore heels otherwise I don’t think they would have let me in.

“How are you?” Marcus yelled down my ear.

“I’m good, you?” I replied.

He seemed to completely skip what I’d said, “It’s nice here, huh?”

I nodded, taking a sip from the drink he’d handed me when we sat down. My stomach started to turn, he had not a single doubt in his mind that I would turn up and that bothered me.

“There’s no chance of you getting taken from me tonight either,” He chuckled against my skin, “they don’t let just anybody in here.”

My stomach turned again this time with an unexplainable anger behind it.

“I can tell.” I nodded, glancing around and thinking that I would have much rather had been at one of those stupid loser parties that I’d previously been to.

He shuffled closer to me, curling his arm tighter around my shoulders. He must have thought that by me showing up tonight, I really did have an interest in being with him, well that and the obvious consumption of alcohol that he had had. There was no way he would have acted like this otherwise. I scanned over all the empty bottles and beer glasses that littered the table and thought of the possibility of him passing out soon.

I felt his body shift away from me slightly, giving my skin room to breathe, “I think we need to get to know each other better anyway,” My throat became overwhelmingly dry at the sight of him flicking his eyes over me, “What do you want to know about me?”

“Why are we here, Marcus?” I laughed politely at the sight of my all Arts loving teacher perched in this booth of this bar that neither of us fitted in with.

He shrugged and I saw the warmth flood back to his eyes, “I don’t know, Rae. I thought that taking you to a Poetry convention or an Art show would be typical, this is a bit… fun.”

“Sometimes typical is good… and in all honesty, those kinds of things are my idea of fun more so than this.” I smiled gently.

He shook his head and rubbed his face harshly in embarrassment, “And I’m sorry for being like this,” His shoulders sank along with his brows as he gestured towards all the drinks on the table, “I was just nervous that you wouldn’t show up.”

Without any clue as to what to do next, I reached out and held his hand, “It’s alright… maybe we should do something else… some other time.”

He looked up at me with the deepest sincerity, grabbed my hand and led me outside.

“There’s a late showing of Psycho on at the Art House across town.” He smiled weakly.

“Much better.” I grinned, linking my arm through his as he flagged down a cab.

…

“So, you think you could do a better job?” My laughter was beginning to make my throat ache.

“No, no, I’m not saying that,” Marcus chuckled, “I just wish I’d had the chance to do it my way.”

Considering I wasn’t even thinking about the date earlier that day, now that he had sobered up and we were doing something of more interest, I was enjoying myself more than I ever had on a date before.

“You should do a remake.” I teased, rolling the window of the cab down slightly.

“You think?” His tone was hushed like this was some big secret between the two of us.

I nodded with a smile that, unlike before was fueled by an excitement and intensity that scared me more than anything. The way he was looking at me so intently like he was fascinated by every blink of my eyes, I got lost, I forgot to breathe… I forgot to think.

But, there was something missing, something that maybe I’d find within him in time, something I couldn’t pinpoint or state, but something none the less.

The cab pulled up outside my complex and Marcus told the driver to wait for him. He followed me out of the cab and walked me to the lobby doors. I didn’t know what to say.

“I’d like to see you again.” He said, his hands folded into the pockets of his trousers.

I smiled, “Me too,” That was the truth.

“I’ll call you,” He gave me that look that had grown more intense as the night went on and he moved closer to me. I’d stopped breathing and he kissed me. Quick and calm, the sort of kiss that would have made me squeal with excitement when I was 14 years old and maybe even now, if that something wasn’t missing. “Goodnight, Rae.”

He walked back to the cab, I waved, he left and I started breathing again.

I somehow floated up to my apartment with no indication to me that I was doing any sort of movement. I liked this guy, I really did, so what the hell was my problem, why did my fingers curl into my palms when he kissed me? Why didn’t it feel right?

I slipped my shoes off at my door, changed into something more comfortable than the tight, lace green dress that had clung to me all evening and curled up on the sofa. I began watching some late night true crime show where officers chased guys on motorcycles and set their roaring Alsatians on them when I felt my eyes begin to wilt.

I hadn’t slept on my sofa in so long. It used to mean that somehow, my father or one of my brothers would have carried me carefully up to my bed without waking me so I wouldn’t wake on the scratchy sofa that I’d passed out on, but lightly tucked up in my bed. There was something about waking up, still on the sofa over here that deterred me from doing it on a regular basis.

Blood rushed to my feet and my chest seemed to explode as three heavy thuds on my front door shocked me awake. I shot up, that feeling tugging right in my gut.

It didn’t even cross my mind, still half asleep that I should check through the spy hole who was at the door. I instantly reached for the handle, my eyes still blurry from sleep and opened it without a single caution.

All sleepiness rushed out of my veins and I could almost feel my eyes crack open wider.

My chest seemed to cave in on me, crushing everything inside and I let out a whimper of horror. His face was him, still, unmistakably him but blood and colours stained his skin and his lip curled not with a smirk like usual, but with pain, with upset. Without thinking, I reached my hand out and brushed the swollen, fresh blueness of the bruise under his eye with my fingers.

“What happened?” My voice cracked, I may have even been crying.

“Can I come in?” John said, his voice still coarse and soothing like nothing was wrong and if my eyes were closed, I wouldn’t have known either. I may have even smiled at the words.

I scrabbled with the door, letting him trudge into my apartment like he was dragging a cloak of bricks behind him.