Status: Active
While She Breathes
Day 21
“Jason?”
My voice reverberated around the living room. I knew he would be there, and true to my words- there he was, grease and sweat stained- sitting glumly in front of the television. He hadn’t said a word to me when he came home, which probably meant that he was in a bad mood.
But I had waited for two weeks for this and I couldn’t wait any longer. My throat ached from not being able to sing for so long, and my eyes desperately wanted to see something that wasn’t my dreary, dark home.
“Babe, come here,” he said- voice husky. I crept towards him, feeling him pull me down next to him. He smelt like sweat and grease, just like he did when I kissed him. He snaked his hands across my shoulder and pressed me awkwardly towards him, my forehead ending up at this throat. I heard him take a breath and I melted.
There was nowhere else, home with my parents didn’t provide me with this.
I felt his lips on my forehead and he sighed. I wrapped my hands around his waist and pulled us closer- inexorably closer. Some days like today, I was filled with love so great that it threatened to overtake my own body. It was a love that just wanted me to pull him so close and hug the hell out of him.
“I love you,” he whispered into my ear and I took it in, feeling the way his lips brushed against my forehead. He pulled up the sleeve of my right hand and kissed the faded bruise on my palm. He never apologised for hitting me, for leaving his mark- but I knew he meant it between his fluttering kisses.
“I love you too, but Jace?”
“Hmm?”
“I have to go.”
I watched his face knit together, and got up before he could simmer.
“I’ll be back on time, I promise.”
He nodded wordlessly, he was weird like that. Sometimes he was the thunder, and other times he was a lifeless puddle.
“See you later honey.”
I picked up the guitar, grabbed my keys and got out of the house. But before I left, I heard an almost inaudible whisper from him.
“You’ll be back.”
*
I literally walked straight into him when I reached the coffee shop.
Side-tracking, the owner of the coffee shop actually saw me busking one day down 3rd Fairway Street- a particularly sleazy street when you hit over nine o’clock at night and he asked me if I wanted to do weekly shows outside his coffee shop. Bio-Gaia requires a tedious license registration and rounds and rounds of administrative issues to actually perform on the streets. I didn’t have a license back then because whatever paperwork I filled in would just get lost in the mail when I sent it into Bio-Gaia’s Art’s Council.
It literally took them four months to get back to me. And by that time, Leslie- the shop owner of Kapu Beans had already hired me as outdoor entertainment.
But I do make it a point to thank them by getting coffee or muffins once in a while. I also pass all my loose change to the cashier because they always seem to run out of small pennies.
Anyway, I was lugging my guitar to Kapu and checking my phone because Jason liked to text me right before I left, and I didn’t want to risk angering him by forgetting to reply. I stopped right in front of the glass door, and for a clear moment nothing happened- then it swung out and stabbed my nose.
The same guy who asked for my email stood there with two muffins perched on porcelain plates stared at me in horror, like he had shattered his mother’s vase.
I took a moment to look at him, watching the way his freckles dotted the area between his nose and his cheeks. He was in working attire, the same attire he wore when I first saw him- only a different colour.
Then I felt guilty, because I had Jason and I didn’t need to find anyone else better than Jason.
“You’re here! And sorry about that,” he exclaimed, before lowering his tone into an apologetic mutter. I stared at him, wide-eyed. No one was particularly excited to see me when I performed the shows- everyone just sort of gave me the respectful silence I needed to sing a few songs, then left.
“Uh yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
His brow furrowed then I realised- I hadn’t been back for two weeks. Before I could correct myself, he cleared his throat and jerked his head over to his table outside the café. There was a girl there- dark hair lying flat and perfect over her shoulder. She was tiny, her shoulders hunched as she was reading something.
There was a fluttering of envy at the base of my throat before I chased it away.
Jason.
“Sorry, I have to get back. Lola’s waiting for her muffin,” he smiled and it was a very becoming smile, because he was good looking by nature. I thought of something to say to him, then caught my tongue. I didn’t want to impress him, and I didn’t come here to talk to him. I just came here to sing, then I had to get home to Jason.
*
I did an hour today, like every other show I did. But because I felt bad that I hadn’t been there for two weeks, I did two more songs, just in case.
My pipes were a little sore, but they weren’t that bad. The songs I played never really needed any heavy-weight belting- mostly just airy vocals with a very heavy twang on my notes if I needed it to sound good.
People always say I sound different singing when I talk, and I’ve started to take that as a compliment.
Singing and performing always seemed magical. When I speak to people, I don’t make eye contact with them and most of them usually leave uninterested, with no thought of ever coming back to speak to me again. I’m unfortunately, a very plain girl (unless you count Jason, who on the contrary, thinks that I’m pretty amazing). But singing just makes me feel better about myself. It’s a temporary power that I have over people- controlling how they tap their feet, controlling the smiles on their faces.
It makes me feel valuable, like I’m making my mark on this world.
It’s hard to feel that way, especially now since Bionic people are faster, healthier and stronger than the minority of the population who are still a 100% human.
Anyway, I finished my act and people clapped, and my heart swelled as usual. It was the one thing in life that I did that felt right, like there were no qualms for backing out. Music to me, wasn’t like family, wasn’t like Jason. I could be alone, and just listening to it would make me feel happy, make me feel better about myself.
Bending down, I struggled not to think too much about how much I loved music because I knew that there would be no one to talk to about it when I got home. Jason would always get angry when I started babbling about music. He always seemed to think that there was a competition for me, even if it was inanimate entities like music, or work.
I had five dollars worth of change, and forty bucks in cash. It wasn’t bad, considering that it was just an hour and I took a fifteen minute break between two sets.
As I bent down, feeling the bumpiness of my guitar case against my finger pads, gathering up my money- when a pair of lithe hands placed twenty dollars in front of me. I blinked and looked up.
“That was even better than the first time,” he shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking straight at me. I swallowed, it was way easier to think of a reply when he still hated music.
“Thanks,” I offered and he continued looking at me till I got too uncomfortable and proceeded to scrunch up my notes into my pockets.
“Oh hey, I forgot to give you my email.”
My heart jolted at how wrong this was that I was giving him my email. If Jason were here, he would have beaten this guy up to pulp- and who knew what he would do to me in private.
Jason wasn’t usually violent, just really over-protective.
“Okay,” he smiled and I felt goose bumps because it was a nice smile.
“Just, let me um. I’ll go speak to Geraldine for a while. You know-“ I jingled the change in my palms in front of him and he nodded. I couldn’t help but notice how dark his hair was, and how guys like him didn’t really look to me, or even talk to me. Sometimes because of Jason, and how he clutched my hand like he didn’t want to let go forever. But mostly I guess it was because I wasn’t approachable as a person, not since I left home.
Pushing the door to the café open, I saw Geraldine, her elbows propped on the barista counter, looking at me with a stupid grin on her face.
“You know that guy’s been here almost five times just to catch you.”
“Hi Geraldine,” I greeted, ignoring whatever she said. I had grown to be really good at ignoring things that I didn’t want to hear.
“Come on, he looks really sexy. Like, damn. And he really likes your voice. That’s super Little Mermaid, don’t you think?”
“That’s super creepy, is what I think,” I muttered, dropping the change in her palms. She received them, not before noticing the faded splatter of yellowish green on my wrist.
Her face darkened almost immediately.
“Whit--“
“I told you if he hits you again, I’m going kick his nuts all the way up his throat.”
She wouldn’t stand a chance against Jason.
“You deserve so much better Riley, you let him smother you- all that glorious light that I only see when you start singing, and you’ll die! You’ll-“
“Whitney! It was my fault! I was late, I didn’t text him, he was worried,” I whisper-shouted back in terror. I hated it when she grew protective, hated it when she tried to interfere. As long as I was alright with what Jason, it was fine. I was happy, and that was fine.
“Worried boyfriends don’t hit their girlfriends, the fuck is wrong with you Riley? Haven’t you watched The Notebook or something?”
“We’re not having this conversation now, not ever.”
“Even when he kills you?” she deadpanned and I snapped. Only I didn’t snap verbally, I slammed whatever change I had left in my hand loudly against the table and she jumped, then softened.
“I need paper, and pen,” I spoke coldly and Whitney handed them meekly to me, keeping her change. She knew how much I hated it when she spoke to me like that. A part of me wondered if this was how Jason treated me, and I quivered with guilt.
“I’m giving him my email okay? He wants me to send him my songs,” I offered as a conciliatory reply and Whitney relaxed.
Then I left before she could say anything else.
*
“Hey I realised that I should be giving you my email instead-“
“No, no it’s cool. Take mine, I need to go anyway,” I spoke hurriedly. If I stayed any later, I would be late again.
He looked at me for a moment, like he wanted to say something.
“I’m Luke by the way,” he said again, reaching a hand out to meet mine. I looked at his hand, then at mine. Would he see it? Why was I so ashamed of it anyway? It felt like I was hiding Jason from everyone. I wasn’t embarrassed with him, I loved him. And it was horrible that I had to remind myself.
“I’m Riley,” I replied, returning the handshake, trying not to look down at our hands in case he saw anything on my wrist.
“Yeah I know,” he laughed and I smiled. There was easy-going aura about him that I liked, but as much as I wanted to stay to talk to him, I couldn’t.
“See you around Luke.”
I didn’t stay to hear what he said, because my phone started vibrating violently. Heart in my mouth, I just hoped Jason wasn’t feeling too violent tonight.
My voice reverberated around the living room. I knew he would be there, and true to my words- there he was, grease and sweat stained- sitting glumly in front of the television. He hadn’t said a word to me when he came home, which probably meant that he was in a bad mood.
But I had waited for two weeks for this and I couldn’t wait any longer. My throat ached from not being able to sing for so long, and my eyes desperately wanted to see something that wasn’t my dreary, dark home.
“Babe, come here,” he said- voice husky. I crept towards him, feeling him pull me down next to him. He smelt like sweat and grease, just like he did when I kissed him. He snaked his hands across my shoulder and pressed me awkwardly towards him, my forehead ending up at this throat. I heard him take a breath and I melted.
There was nowhere else, home with my parents didn’t provide me with this.
I felt his lips on my forehead and he sighed. I wrapped my hands around his waist and pulled us closer- inexorably closer. Some days like today, I was filled with love so great that it threatened to overtake my own body. It was a love that just wanted me to pull him so close and hug the hell out of him.
“I love you,” he whispered into my ear and I took it in, feeling the way his lips brushed against my forehead. He pulled up the sleeve of my right hand and kissed the faded bruise on my palm. He never apologised for hitting me, for leaving his mark- but I knew he meant it between his fluttering kisses.
“I love you too, but Jace?”
“Hmm?”
“I have to go.”
I watched his face knit together, and got up before he could simmer.
“I’ll be back on time, I promise.”
He nodded wordlessly, he was weird like that. Sometimes he was the thunder, and other times he was a lifeless puddle.
“See you later honey.”
I picked up the guitar, grabbed my keys and got out of the house. But before I left, I heard an almost inaudible whisper from him.
“You’ll be back.”
*
I literally walked straight into him when I reached the coffee shop.
Side-tracking, the owner of the coffee shop actually saw me busking one day down 3rd Fairway Street- a particularly sleazy street when you hit over nine o’clock at night and he asked me if I wanted to do weekly shows outside his coffee shop. Bio-Gaia requires a tedious license registration and rounds and rounds of administrative issues to actually perform on the streets. I didn’t have a license back then because whatever paperwork I filled in would just get lost in the mail when I sent it into Bio-Gaia’s Art’s Council.
It literally took them four months to get back to me. And by that time, Leslie- the shop owner of Kapu Beans had already hired me as outdoor entertainment.
But I do make it a point to thank them by getting coffee or muffins once in a while. I also pass all my loose change to the cashier because they always seem to run out of small pennies.
Anyway, I was lugging my guitar to Kapu and checking my phone because Jason liked to text me right before I left, and I didn’t want to risk angering him by forgetting to reply. I stopped right in front of the glass door, and for a clear moment nothing happened- then it swung out and stabbed my nose.
The same guy who asked for my email stood there with two muffins perched on porcelain plates stared at me in horror, like he had shattered his mother’s vase.
I took a moment to look at him, watching the way his freckles dotted the area between his nose and his cheeks. He was in working attire, the same attire he wore when I first saw him- only a different colour.
Then I felt guilty, because I had Jason and I didn’t need to find anyone else better than Jason.
“You’re here! And sorry about that,” he exclaimed, before lowering his tone into an apologetic mutter. I stared at him, wide-eyed. No one was particularly excited to see me when I performed the shows- everyone just sort of gave me the respectful silence I needed to sing a few songs, then left.
“Uh yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
His brow furrowed then I realised- I hadn’t been back for two weeks. Before I could correct myself, he cleared his throat and jerked his head over to his table outside the café. There was a girl there- dark hair lying flat and perfect over her shoulder. She was tiny, her shoulders hunched as she was reading something.
There was a fluttering of envy at the base of my throat before I chased it away.
Jason.
“Sorry, I have to get back. Lola’s waiting for her muffin,” he smiled and it was a very becoming smile, because he was good looking by nature. I thought of something to say to him, then caught my tongue. I didn’t want to impress him, and I didn’t come here to talk to him. I just came here to sing, then I had to get home to Jason.
*
I did an hour today, like every other show I did. But because I felt bad that I hadn’t been there for two weeks, I did two more songs, just in case.
My pipes were a little sore, but they weren’t that bad. The songs I played never really needed any heavy-weight belting- mostly just airy vocals with a very heavy twang on my notes if I needed it to sound good.
People always say I sound different singing when I talk, and I’ve started to take that as a compliment.
Singing and performing always seemed magical. When I speak to people, I don’t make eye contact with them and most of them usually leave uninterested, with no thought of ever coming back to speak to me again. I’m unfortunately, a very plain girl (unless you count Jason, who on the contrary, thinks that I’m pretty amazing). But singing just makes me feel better about myself. It’s a temporary power that I have over people- controlling how they tap their feet, controlling the smiles on their faces.
It makes me feel valuable, like I’m making my mark on this world.
It’s hard to feel that way, especially now since Bionic people are faster, healthier and stronger than the minority of the population who are still a 100% human.
Anyway, I finished my act and people clapped, and my heart swelled as usual. It was the one thing in life that I did that felt right, like there were no qualms for backing out. Music to me, wasn’t like family, wasn’t like Jason. I could be alone, and just listening to it would make me feel happy, make me feel better about myself.
Bending down, I struggled not to think too much about how much I loved music because I knew that there would be no one to talk to about it when I got home. Jason would always get angry when I started babbling about music. He always seemed to think that there was a competition for me, even if it was inanimate entities like music, or work.
I had five dollars worth of change, and forty bucks in cash. It wasn’t bad, considering that it was just an hour and I took a fifteen minute break between two sets.
As I bent down, feeling the bumpiness of my guitar case against my finger pads, gathering up my money- when a pair of lithe hands placed twenty dollars in front of me. I blinked and looked up.
“That was even better than the first time,” he shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking straight at me. I swallowed, it was way easier to think of a reply when he still hated music.
“Thanks,” I offered and he continued looking at me till I got too uncomfortable and proceeded to scrunch up my notes into my pockets.
“Oh hey, I forgot to give you my email.”
My heart jolted at how wrong this was that I was giving him my email. If Jason were here, he would have beaten this guy up to pulp- and who knew what he would do to me in private.
Jason wasn’t usually violent, just really over-protective.
“Okay,” he smiled and I felt goose bumps because it was a nice smile.
“Just, let me um. I’ll go speak to Geraldine for a while. You know-“ I jingled the change in my palms in front of him and he nodded. I couldn’t help but notice how dark his hair was, and how guys like him didn’t really look to me, or even talk to me. Sometimes because of Jason, and how he clutched my hand like he didn’t want to let go forever. But mostly I guess it was because I wasn’t approachable as a person, not since I left home.
Pushing the door to the café open, I saw Geraldine, her elbows propped on the barista counter, looking at me with a stupid grin on her face.
“You know that guy’s been here almost five times just to catch you.”
“Hi Geraldine,” I greeted, ignoring whatever she said. I had grown to be really good at ignoring things that I didn’t want to hear.
“Come on, he looks really sexy. Like, damn. And he really likes your voice. That’s super Little Mermaid, don’t you think?”
“That’s super creepy, is what I think,” I muttered, dropping the change in her palms. She received them, not before noticing the faded splatter of yellowish green on my wrist.
Her face darkened almost immediately.
“Whit--“
“I told you if he hits you again, I’m going kick his nuts all the way up his throat.”
She wouldn’t stand a chance against Jason.
“You deserve so much better Riley, you let him smother you- all that glorious light that I only see when you start singing, and you’ll die! You’ll-“
“Whitney! It was my fault! I was late, I didn’t text him, he was worried,” I whisper-shouted back in terror. I hated it when she grew protective, hated it when she tried to interfere. As long as I was alright with what Jason, it was fine. I was happy, and that was fine.
“Worried boyfriends don’t hit their girlfriends, the fuck is wrong with you Riley? Haven’t you watched The Notebook or something?”
“We’re not having this conversation now, not ever.”
“Even when he kills you?” she deadpanned and I snapped. Only I didn’t snap verbally, I slammed whatever change I had left in my hand loudly against the table and she jumped, then softened.
“I need paper, and pen,” I spoke coldly and Whitney handed them meekly to me, keeping her change. She knew how much I hated it when she spoke to me like that. A part of me wondered if this was how Jason treated me, and I quivered with guilt.
“I’m giving him my email okay? He wants me to send him my songs,” I offered as a conciliatory reply and Whitney relaxed.
Then I left before she could say anything else.
*
“Hey I realised that I should be giving you my email instead-“
“No, no it’s cool. Take mine, I need to go anyway,” I spoke hurriedly. If I stayed any later, I would be late again.
He looked at me for a moment, like he wanted to say something.
“I’m Luke by the way,” he said again, reaching a hand out to meet mine. I looked at his hand, then at mine. Would he see it? Why was I so ashamed of it anyway? It felt like I was hiding Jason from everyone. I wasn’t embarrassed with him, I loved him. And it was horrible that I had to remind myself.
“I’m Riley,” I replied, returning the handshake, trying not to look down at our hands in case he saw anything on my wrist.
“Yeah I know,” he laughed and I smiled. There was easy-going aura about him that I liked, but as much as I wanted to stay to talk to him, I couldn’t.
“See you around Luke.”
I didn’t stay to hear what he said, because my phone started vibrating violently. Heart in my mouth, I just hoped Jason wasn’t feeling too violent tonight.