Could Mean Anything

Floating fast.

Ben Harper is on the cafe music station, something sharp and sad like 'I Shall Not Walk Alone', the song that really confuses me because he says 'And I shall not walk alone' but the next line is 'Hope is a lie.' It's sunny outside and he's very surprised to see it so pleasant.

Or maybe it’s something completely off the wall like 'Spill the Wine' by Eric Burdon & War. They were definitely on drugs when that song was written. Honestly. Take that pearl? I'm sure that has some deep meaning to it. I'm sure he knows what it is.

And that's what I'm thinking about. I'm sitting at a little square table and he's sitting across from me with his... his self. He's sitting with his dark eyes and his dark mouth, and his hands are all awkward around a cup of coffee. And I'm thinking, "Why the hell is hope a lie?" or "Yes, if I spill the wine, I promise to take that pearl too."

I’m wearing something I can fiddle with, so we won’t have to make eye contact. I want to make eye contact but he’s already awkward with his hands and his coffee so I just have to be awkward right back. I’m wearing that charm bracelet, and I take it off and put it on and there’s silence

For a while.

And then someone speaks.

It’s him.

“It’s nice to see you.” Finally lifts his eyes and for a split second I catch them, but not with enough focus.

“It’s nice to see you too.” I smile with nervousness and try to make our eyes meet but he looks down again before our pupils align. “I’m glad you came.”

“So am I.” Takes a drink. Hands around cardboard cup, or maybe those in-house mugs, white porcelain, unless we’re at Forza where they have those black ones. “How are you doing?”

I want to say something vague like, “Better now that you’re here,” which could be completely true but what comes out of my mouth is, “I’m fine.” Months of anticipation and all I can do is lie to him. I could pour my heart out or sing a song, but no. “Just fine.”

“Just fine?” Now he’s looking up and I’m staring into my coffee. The urge to look up is too tempting. I give in, and he’s smiling at me. Smiling. And the question on his vocal chords is a command on his lips: Don’t lie to me.

Incredulous smile. That’s what it is. But then I realize we’re finally eye-to-eye and I can see the colors.

"Ah, just... friends." I make a dismissive gesture with my hand and take a drink.

"You know it's funny," he says, gazing at me fearlessly now that I'm not looking back. "You call them friends. But you complain about them more than your non-friends."

I take no time in replying. The answer is something I've always known and yet I can't really get over it. "I suppose that's because I expect a lot from my friends." I can feel a little awkward smirk growing on my face and I put some chapstick on to hide it. A part of me hopes he's staring at my lips but I quickly shove the thought away.

"So you expect a lot from me?" He sips his coffee and peers over the rim of his mug.

A very thick emptiness squeezes between us at the table and I quickly fill it with memories. Memories of tables, and conversations, and boys that ask questions at me. I am staring into his chest and I can see him staring at my eyes, watching them widen with a flashback, watching my mouth frown as though I'm tasting something bitter.

"Sorry," he says, looking down, eyes in his cup again, palms around the porcelain.

I raise my eyebrows as I wake from my trance. "Hm?" I smile. "No, it's okay. Yes. Of course I expect a lot from you." My smile widens as it does when I am nervous and candid.

"Was that your awkward face?" he asks. He's looking at me again. His mouth is open with a very amused smile, enticed by my expression, intrigued, hopeful.

I look back and laugh. He remembered.

Now they're playing 'New Slang' by the Shins and it's like the ending scene in a movie. The conversation dims out as the song fades in, louder and stronger, until it becomes a montage. You see the next few hours of honest talking, weeks of building into each other, the years of attachment and losing ourselves in each other's souls, and the final still frame of the picture is of me and him laughing at each other all open-mouthed and delirious with contentment. Nobody can hear us talk, but they can see us smile, and they can listen to the song that our life might make.

Author's Note

This doesn't actually mean anything. In fact, this is one of my few pieces that isn't autobiographical. So... don't try to give it depth. It has none.

Reviews

[Idyllwyld]

A sharp insight into new meetings, new dates, blind dates, the answer is D: All of the above. The awkwardness, the shyness, and yet that spine, hers resisting, his engaging, that shows these two's real merit. She expects a lot from her friends, and his reply to that, ah I do enjoy such snappy retorts!

A fine and fun read.