Going to Pasalacqua

Watching people all around me, is oddly like some fucked up fascination. I just watch people from a distance, even though I don't even know them. I feel like just from the expressions they wear and the clothes of which they carry themselves, what kind of a life they live.

I gripped my bag strap with white knuckles and sweaty palms. I hate going out alone, I have always hated it because I fell like people target it as weakness. Well the sickos do, and I really do not want to broach this subject. I keep walking up the street to really no place in particular. Then I recognize my dads guitar store one the corner of west boulevard. I walk up to the door and pull it open. I am greeted by the familiar, cheerful chime. I instantly back up against the glass of the door though once I recognize two people laughing and talking to the infamous Larry Livermore. Once again recognizing one for his inability to keep his dreadlocked hair tidy. Gazes upon the guitars hanging on the walls with curious green eyes. I'd seen them in my dream last night and they were all too familiar in general. I ducked behind some towering amps to get my head and heart in check before peeking back out at them. Recognizing Mike, chatting with Larry about some deals they could make with my dad in exchange for renting of a used amp my dad obviously had around.

Mike and his typical blond tinted shaggy brown hair. His trademark fashion is baggy janitors jeans and also baggy band shirts festering the logos of local punk bands. A few of which also originated from Gilman.

I ran my tongue over my teeth, pursed my lips and ducked back again after recognizing my dad standing at the counter cleaning a black les Paul semi-acoustic.  He also talked animatedly with a customer who was leaning against the glass counter looking fondly down on the guitar he was cleaning. Must be hers.

“Hi Adeline!” dad waved at me when he noticed me creeping about the amps. I groaned internally for his obvious acknowledgment of me. Wanting to hide, Mike threw a look over his shoulder and winked at me before looking back at Larry. Billie either hadn't heard my dads explanation, or didn't care enough to have even given me a glance.

I walked towards the counter. Waving shyly at dad.

“Hey dad. What's up?”

He smiled and shrugged. Gesturing to the beautiful guitar before him. While he poured some kind of clear liquid onto a old rag and dabbing the glossy black finish with it.

“Just cleaning up this guitar for Leah.”

I rose my eyebrow. Leah? 

Leah had blond hair, piled up in a messy bun with a thick smear of eyeliner around her hazel eyes. Which were a far brighter, prettier shade then the hazel I had. She was six inches higher then me too. Wearing a short black dress over black leather biker jeans and black boots. She had a tattoo of some quote on her upper left arm. She smiled at me in a appraising way. And I wast sure if that was a good thing or not. Her face was heart shaped with deep crimson lips and she almost looked like a rockstar with her overall style. And I began to feel like a tossed aside doll just being next to her. 

I smiled “Hi.”

“Hi hun.” she smiled offering her hand “I'm Leah. You must be Adeline. Right?” she cocked her head slightly like she was judging my lack of gothic makeup like she had. Almost raccoonish...

I blinked a few times and nodded “Yeah. That's me.” I say wearily. 

She laughed. Even her fucking laugh is enchanting... I growl internally but smile and excuse myself. Walking around the store until I am out of her sight, then dodged for the door and walking out onto the street. Breathing a sigh of relief to have escaped everyone who could drag me down. Even Leah, whom I had only just met had some weird effect on my self esteem. With that said, I huffed up the street to moms record store

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

“MOM!” I wailed pathetically like a little kid as I entered the store. Scowling back at the door as it closed shapely against my back with it's warm, joyful chime. I glared at the floor to avoid looking at the faces of people around the store snickering and pointing at me. At this point I couldn't give much fuck what they thought.

“Hun, what's wrong?” mom asked. Wiping her hands off on her apron. Noticing that she had been painting some kind of mural at the back wall of the store. I suddenly felt guilty for interrupting her work.

I stuttered “I just... Uh wanted to, talk to you... That is if your not busy.” I mumble. Embarrassed as I met the eyes of several people around the store who were laughing at me.

“Yeah... That's ok.” she murmured curiously. Gesturing for me to follow her to the office in back. As soon as I got there I curled up into a little clingy ball in the chair across from her desk. Instantly becoming lost in my thoughts as I stared blindly at the scruffy dark blue carpet.

“—Adeline, did you hear me?”

My head snapped up. Mom stood across from me with her hands on her hips. 

“Uh what?” I ask. Blinking a few times like a total moron.

She sighed softly and sat down in the chair across from me. “What's up?”

I shrugged “Shit. Everything has gone to shit...” I mumbled. 

She rose a eyebrow at my language but didn't question it. “So what's going on? Do you want to talk about it?”

I sigh and raise my head. Still looking down and clinging to my legs with white knuckles “Yeah... Sure.” I nod “First of all, Billie is a fuckin drunk and we are apart for the rest of the week until after graduation. Second of all, everyone around me is evolving for a better life. While I am also watching people fail—... And... And this girl, she was all like ‘Oh, your Adeline.” I mocked in a annoying voice “And I'm just trying to cope with all these sudden changes and it's so fucking hard. I just want Billie back!” I yelled soundlessly. It sounded more like a choked, pained hiss.

“Whoa wha, hang on sweetie. Who's failing? What girl? Why do you feel so left behind?” she asks. Grabbing my shoulders to make me look at her.

“Mike!” I wailed “Billie pushes him so damn hard for this band, and Mike is just trying to have a fucking life like everyone else! And the girl, I met her like five minutes ago at dads shop. Dad was doing repairs to her guitar and she looked down on me while we talked and she is sooo much prettier then—”

“No!” mom says firmly “Don't say she is prettier than you.”

“But, and then she, Billie was there this morning too, and she kept looking at him like he was a gem or somethin...” I mutter. The tears fell slowly in helpless streaks down my red with rage cheeks.

“Poor Mike...” Mom murmured “And honey, as for everything else that is going on, just brush it off for now. It will all work out if you let it.” she smiled at me. Raising my chin so I'd look at her. Giving me that old wide-eyed smile that I hadn't seen since I was Eight and Skinned my knee falling off my bike.

I nodded slowly. Huffing a deep breath that felt so good to my deflated lungs “Ok mom. Is there... There anything I could do around here today to get my mind off of problems?” I asked hopefully. Actually terrified of the possibility that there is nothing and I'd have to go home and sit curled up in my window sill sulking.

She smiled and nodded “Wanna paint?”

I hopped up from her hug and nodded enthusiastically. Going to the supply closet to get a apron, already stained with previous paint. A bucket of paint brushes and followed her out into the lobby over to the mural, which appeared to be something I could definitely fathom interest in. It was a graffiti style painting depicting a punk band scene. I recognized in the top left corner was a emerald colored street sign that read '924 Gilman' I smiled.

“All yours.” she gestured to the painting. 

“What? Seriously?” I gasped.

She nodded “You know more about the punk atmosphere then me.” she winked and went to the register. I grinned widely up at the wall and grabbed the palette of paints and a paint brush. Climbing up the first three rungs of the blue ladder set up beside the painting. Sighing contently and for a bit, forgetting my issues and went to work painting.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

“Adeline, are you ok?”

I yawned and rolled over. Staring up at a familiar face. And screamed...

“Holy fucking shit Mike! Don't fucking do that!” I hissed. Scooting up into a sit against the wall. Yawning and rubbing at my tired eyes.

“What time is it?” I grumbled slowly. 

He laughed lightly “eight, right before opening.” he said matter-of-factly.

“What?! I was here all damn night?...” I cursed under my breath and stumbled up to my feet. Turning to look back at the painting. Vaguely remembering under the dim lights of after closing time, standing here last night, grumbling about all the shit going on. And without realizing it, I had illustrated it.

Oh shit...

I gazed up at it sheepishly. Beside the Gilman street sign. I had painted the overly obvious outline of Green Day performing. They were nothing more then rocking out silhouettes, except I made them very obvious by only painting their instruments in full fucking color... Billie's blue guitar, Mikes orange bass. Oh jeez. Mike However looked quite amused, staring up at the obvious obviousness.  Beside that I'd painted the line ‘Would we last forever? You and I, together hand and hand. We'd run away. Far away. I'm in for nasty weather, but I'll take whatever you can give that comes my way.’

I gulped. Remembering vaguely of one night while Billie was in the shower, he had left his lyric book on the coffee table and I'd read that line. And I had remembered that little line that I'd read once better the most things I'd learned in school.

Mike winked at me “See ya around Adie. And Uh... I won't say anything to Billie about you stealing his lyrics.” he laughed without looking back at me and exited the store. Leaving me behind with so many questions to spill out with.

“Wha? Damn it...” I muttered.