Fremantle Line

"Oh fuck." I mutter to myself.

He pulls up a chair and sits next to me. His face has a blank stare but I know he means something.
“Didn’t expect you to be here.” I tell him looking out at the ocean. There was a cruiser that was just passing by from the right, waves breaking off from the base. The birds above were circling from leftovers, uneaten waste these people call food.

“So what’s up?” he asks sitting back.

I don’t break my gaze with the boat, but the cigarette is limp on my lips.

“I’m here seeing...I'm shopping.”

“Shopping?” he replied almost laughing at the idea. “You live in Kalamunda and you come down here of all places to shop?”

“Well you do know the Midlands markets burnt down.” My eyes are still fixed on the boat as it disappears. I didn’t care what he thought but I didn’t want him following me either.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “The same week you moved in the area. Do you mind if I have a…”

His hand out stretched towards my silver tin, swiftly moving, I slammed it shut before he could grab one. Frowning he snorted and looked at the ocean with me.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here Matt.”

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“Well, its about last night, kind of took a lot of people by surprise you know?”

My cigarette is half smoked; he is fiddling with his fingers. He can’t say it straight.

“Well, in my opinion you weren’t supposed to be there let alone see that. In all honesty you should be more concerned about people like Nyk, I mean, did you see what happened?”

“Yeah....” he faded off.

“Poor girl, lucky is all hell though I’ll give her that.”

“You get idiots like that all the time though, on North bridge and shit. Girl could end up in a bin in a dumpster, and it's stupid people like you who end up responsible.”

“Yeah, but its not every day you find your best friend getting beaten to an inch from their life, shit they were about to hit her as well.”

He went silent.

“Last night changed a lot of people, and I admire her for being so strong about it. But don’t think this is an opening, cause I’ll be damned if I’m going to standby and watch her get hurt again. She’s found some one.”

“There’s always…”

“What, hope?” I cut him off, I didn’t want to but it saved time. “She is engaged and she is in love, you can't beat that, not with out hurting her first. Love is blind as it is painful. It saves people one day and kills them the next. We keep doing it because we don't want to end up alone in the world. It's not because we are afraid we can't pay our bills or cook dinner, it's our mind telling itself your not insane for feeling the way you do. You could walk down the street see some random girl, and feel your lust grow. The thing people don't realize is, you are the only one feeling that feeling. Look at it like life is a sand castle; some people take longer to build it then others, and reason we search for love is not to get it done faster but to enjoy it more. There in lies the paradox that fun is also a feeling you can't describe. My opinion, just remember, we are all on the same beach when the tide comes in we all feel it. Any way, I have to go, I've had enough of this bullshit, I’m expected at 12.”

He looked crushed I knew he would be fine, strong men like him can take a lot of shit, but play with there heart and things get messy. They resort to the most basic of motor functions, rage and the need to dominate. Top dog they'd call it, I was once like that, the only problem I realized soon after was the question no one had taken notice of. Like the fine print on a Tax from. What do you do when you get there? When a dog chases a car, what does it do when it finally catches it?

“Shit your right, fuck it” he replied “Always more out there right.”

We shake hands. I get up and put the cigarette out on the table, sliding my read jacket on we exchange farewells and I move on.

Walking down the streets pushing my way through people I realize how crowded the markets really are. Its not that there are people its just there so many. Going back and forth, rubbing shoulders, exchanging glances. Then there was the occasional sales man who everyone was mesmerized by…he sells clay toys for fuck-sake.
Reaching the street between the entrances of the markets opposite the pub, I move around another crowd watching a opera performer. She sang beautifully, but with the tape player and sound system, it seemed less convincing. I come to a stop at the entrance, stepping back I see a young girl, with dark brown curly hair standing a little further down the street of the opera singer. She had tattered clothes, and a suitcase with loose coins. As I speculated I saw no one crowding around, no one appreciating the talent of one person. The opera singer had talent, but it could be flawed, anyone can scream and make noise, but playing guitar was another story. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a photo of lain, her sitting there with her guitar, no one loved her either, but it takes one small donation to those needed to make the day.