While She Breathes

True to Riley’s words, Geraldine slid me a slice of apple pie when I went in for my regular order of coffee.

“Do you even have some kind of night life? Or is Riley your night life now?” she asked, a knowing smile printed on her face. I huffed, but I didn’t really express displeasure at her statement, because it was kind of true.

There was literally no other place in the city where I could find the serenity and simplicity that sitting at Kapu’s and listening to Riley sing brought me. Maybe it was the coffee that calmed me- I was fully sober ever since the day Kai brought me here to watch Riley for the first time. And it felt good that I wasn’t overly reliant on alcohol to have a good time.

I felt healthy, mature.

“How much is the pie?”

Geraldine rolled her eyes and said it was on the house, and I struggled to let my knowing smile show.

“Riley said it was good, so I guess it’s on the house.”

I didn’t really want to tell Geraldine what Riley said about the crust, but it was okay. I paid for my coffee and sat outside.

It was 7, and Riley showed no signs of turning up. I felt irritated, more so that she had promised me that she would be here, but she wasn’t showing. As a business representative, I was a stickler for punctuality, and if you made someone wait for you- it just peeved me off.

The chairs and tables around me started to fill up slowly, like people too were waiting for something to happen. But when it turned to 7:15, some people started shifting around.

I looked around, forcing myself to eat Geraldine’s pie- but still no sign of her. I felt annoyance bristle at the nape of my neck. She had sounded so indignant and even attractive by email that her absence just made my impression of her waver unfavourably.

7:20 and a lady sighed, grabbed her latte and walked away.

A minute later, someone else took her seat and I looked around, wondering how long I would allow myself to wait for Riley.

7:33 and she had not arrived, and I was ready to leave. The pie sat untouched, and my coffee was mostly empty. I had no mood to find out if I really would like Geraldine’s pie, and the extent on how irritated I was would probably cause Kai to start teasing me again, so I decided not to join him for a late night drinking session.

7:35 and I had one last mouthful of coffee left, and even the pie looked angry sitting on the clean white plate.

I was just about to leave when there was a small commotion, like someone had lit up some kiddy sparklers. It started with something hard hitting the wall, then a loosening of a screw and a clanging of the metal. I looked up from my desolation and there she was, out of breath, picking up her guitar and wringing the strap around her shoulders.

“Sorry guys, I- uh- yeah. I’m sorry,” she said, before catching her breath and holding it in her to calm herself down. She was in a small bandage skirt, with a white shirt tucked loosely in. It was a breezy, so her tights and green khaki jacket made her look quite worn for the weather- a little too hot if you asked me. But what did I know about how women dressed, she was here- 38 minutes late, but at least she kept her promise.

I thought she’d start playing straight away, like she usually did but instead, she opened her mouth and seemed to recalculate her words.

“Thanks for coming down today guys, it- it uh-“

She stopped midsentence and looked through the glass window, a few people followed her stares- myself included and I saw Geraldine looking at Riley through her peripherals as she busied herself trying to clean the mugs at the sink. There was obviously something strange going on today, so I turned back to Riley to find that she was looking at me- like her gaze had just conveniently flitted to my face.

I raised a brow and she blanched.

“I’ll do more songs today, and I hope you guys are okay with some sad, love songs,” she finally finished, chuckling insincerely.

We applauded politely and faded into an awkward silence as she started her first song. It wasn’t sad, and it sounded awfully familiar. I watched, wondering how she managed to entrance me even with her mediocre guitar skills- the pick (I have since looked up videos of guitar players and picked up new lingo) clicking sometimes too hard onto the strings, making a buzzing sound.

“I don’t ever be the one to say goodbye, but I will, I will, I will.”

She hit the verses with a raspy voice, a tone that I had never heard her use before. It wasn’t until she started at the chorus that I realised why the song sounded so familiar- it was the very first song I listened too on that Ingrid Michaelson record that I picked up at the record shop.

How could you make a slightly upbeat song sound so sad?

I watched her for a long time, and today felt different- the song felt like she was climbing hurdle over hurdle, each verse like an emotional tugboat for her.

When she ended, there was applause before she even finished the last sentence and the daze across her eyes cleared and she smiled at the audience- a nice, conciliatory smile.

The next song was a request from a lady and her husband. They wanted to listen to her cover a song called ‘Dancing in the Dark’, and she said the chords for it and played it.

Today she was a lot softer, more thoughtful in her playing. She almost sounded like she was contemplating each song as she sang it- for the first half of the set anyway.

Anyway, the couple who requested the song smiled, hugged her and gave her ten dollars as a tip. But that was all she stopped for, she ploughed each song like she was tirelessly trying to get through with her emotions.

After the first 6 songs or so, she stopped and said she would be doing a song by Beyonce. I was shocked, mostly because it was a name that I found familiar. Jay-Z, rapper turned multi-millionaire tycoon had a superstar wife called Beyonce- and while I personally didn’t listen to her music, I was glad that Riley did because it showed how much music she listened to.

Halfway through her song, I left my seat to get a refill for my coffee. I tried not to jingle the bell to the coffee shop too hard, but Geraldine heard me anyway.

“At least she’s here,” she offered and I shrugged. As Geraldine refilled my cup, I looked out at Riley- the way she tipped her head and opened her mouth to sing and I knew where the music came from. Deep down within, she didn’t care that looked funny, or if she had double chin when she articulated certain words- and that smile she gave after a particularly long note. It just made it all the more precious.

I wanted to feel that happiness and satisfaction too, and I was feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t have any talents that made me feel proud of myself.

“You done staring pretty boy? Your coffee’s up.”

*

“And this last song is maybe, one of my favourite songs at the moment- because god knows how much music I listen to-“

I smiled, Geraldine’s pie sitting half-eaten in front of me. It was alright, the crust wasn’t that bad.

“-it’s um, it’s really short and it’s called The Moon Song.”

She cleared her throat, looked down once, then caught my eye when she looked up and smiled at me. It was a smile that crinkled the sides of her eyes, and made her cheek bones pop. It was a pretty smile, and I wished for a photo of it like I wished for a copy of her voice in my iPod.

As she played song, I watched as she closed her eyes and sang. She was so different, and I conceded that if Kai were here- I would have told him that I really, really like her.

Except that you couldn’t like a girl just by listening to her voice, I didn’t even know who she was. Right?

“-And you’re a million miles,” she broke off the last sentence and I realised that she was crying. The slow leaky type, not the one that clogged up your throat. Was this how singers cried?

She stopped, bowed silently and unstrapped the guitar from her body and used a finger to map the tears away from her eyes- collecting them in the grooves of her fingers as she flicked them away like they weren’t supposed to be there. I’d never seen someone get so carried away before. And in the countless numbers of failed relationships I’ve ever had, I had never seen someone so stripped down and vulnerable as Riley was right now.

She was brave for letting herself go, but I wondered why she was crying.

She sniffed and bent down, collecting the cluster of coins and notes in her case- shoving them in her pocket as usual. I walked up to her, and bent down, for the first time stooping to her level.

She looked up and met my eye, and I realised that she had the coolest eyes I’d ever seen. They were green on the inside, with flakes of brown dotting her irises.

“Sorry I was late,” she smiled, her eyes red and fresh from the tears.

“Yeah… About that…”

I placed a five dollar bill in her palm, pressing it down against the notes and realised how cold she was. Her fingers were lined with grooves that appeared after she pressed her guitar strings too hard. She flinched at my touch and dragged her hand back.

“I told you not to tip me at all,” she said nonchalantly, pressing the five dollars back into my hands.

“What’s wrong with supporting an artist I like?”

She stopped and looked at me and I knew I had got her. In business, I had grown accustomed to words and nit-picking on which words would most affect a customer. I called it the ‘bottle-neck’, and Riley obviously was at hers.

“Thanks, but I can’t,” she said again.

Still stubborn. She gave me a playful smile and brushed past me, sweeping her hair across one shoulder as she walked towards Kapu. It was dark out, and in the glow of the coffee shop- I saw a bruise, dark and accusatory, plastered on the side of her neck.

I felt my insides empty. Was she attacked? How could you sing for an hour and a half with an injury which probably bruised your windpipe as well?

I followed her into the coffee shop, watching as Geraldine took one look at her neck and paled. She pointed, and Riley baulked and hurriedly swept her hair back over her shoulder. I watched as Geraldine shook her head, mouthing something that looked like it didn’t sound nice. Riley dumped the coins in her hand on the table, and snapped back.

There was clearly something going on between both of them. Something which I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about. But if Riley was hurt, then I felt a jolt of concern spear through me which was irritating because I haven’t had a girl make me feel this way since a long time ago. Plus she had a boyfriend.

As I neared the door, I could hear them shouting. Perplexed, I realised that so did some of the lingering customers. None of them did anything, most of them left.

“You said the last time would be last!”

“I never said that!”

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you stick by him? Why not go for someone like Luke-“

“What is wrong with you Geraldine? I have Jason, stop, stop fucking pushing this poor guy onto me like he’s my responsibility or something! Jesus Christ!”

I flinched at her use of language. It was her tone that scared me, and also the fact that Geraldine had just roped me into their fight.

“Is everything okay?”

My presence was like a force which propelled Riley away from Geraldine. She looked at me, eyes burning into my face and Geraldine did the same. Only Geraldine’s glare was a lot more menacing.

“No, everything is not okay. Thanks for asking Luke-“

“No, everything’s fine, we were just talking,” Riley said, exasperated. Panic replaced her hostility.

“Who’s Jason? And I heard my name.”

I couldn’t help it. Geraldine narrowed her eyes at Riley, who looked like she was going to throw up.

“What’s wrong with your neck Riley? Did someone attack you or something?”

“Funny you should ask Luke-“

“Geraldine, shut up.”

Riley placed both hands on the counter and gripped it, and I could see her leg muscles tense, like she was ready to run.

“Why don’t you ask Riley to tell you herself?” Geraldine spat and Riley glared at her.

Geraldine turned her back to us, scooped up the change and continued cleaning the cups she had been working on. I looked expectantly at Riley who was red in the face, brown hair wispy from her fight.

“Riley?”

She looked at Geraldine, an expression flitting across her face that suggested that she was hurting as badly as her bruise on the inside. Then she pushed herself away from the cashier, shoved me aside and walked out of the shop.

“Riley? Riley, come on.”

Geraldine didn’t even have to tell me to get her.

*

“I’m not gonna let you walk home like that.”

“Stop following me Luke.”

“Then get in the car.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? It’s not like I don’t know you have a boyfriend, just get in the car.”

“For crying out loud Luke, I can’t,” she snapped irritably. I didn’t know what was causing me to be so relentless in getting her home safely, but I felt responsible over her. Especially since she was hurt.

“You get in or you tell me who gave you that bruise.”

She stopped walking. I had reached her second bottleneck. She turned to look at me, guitar case hanging from one hand, her other hand shoved deep into her jacket.

“I’ll ask Geraldine.”

She swore under her breath, looked once at her shoes, then got into my car.

We sat in terse silence as I drove aimlessly on the road, not knowing what to do with her since she wasn’t exactly being very cooperative.

“Look, do you have a curfew or something? Cause I’m sure I can get you home before it ends-“

“Do I look like a kid, Luke?”

I laughed at her snide tone. People tended to snap when I hit a sensitive spot when I talked to them.

“So you just gonna sit there and keep quiet?”

She bit her lips, and even that seemed attractive to me. Shit, I was in deep.

“Do you know where the antique book shop is?” she asked finally, her voice thoughtful again.

“Yeah, the one near Xavier Street?”

“No, the one near Georgia Lane.”

“Yeah, I know it. You wanna go there? Right now?”

She sighed and nodded. I started driving and she stared out the window while I contemplated my next question. There was so much that I wanted to know about her- who her songs were about, who she sang them for, why she cried. She was like a book that had been cracked open at the spine, but a book that I still couldn’t open.

“Riley, are you okay? You’re seriously telling me that you’re going back to work at 9, at night?”

She exhaled noisily and fingered the material of her jacket.

“If I answer that question, can you promise me- no more questions?”

I hesitated. If I had only one question, I had to use it wisely. But she wasn’t looking me in the eye, and through the gaps in her hair, I could see the bruise on her neck and I grunted in approval instead.

“It’s because I have nowhere to go, for tonight anyway. Now take a left turn over there.”

I shouldn’t even have asked, now I had insurmountable questions for her that I knew silence wouldn’t help me at all.