Damn, My Mood Swings

Dave and I had just finished watching a video when our friend Reggie came into the dorm with his old ex-girlfriend, Erin, from back home. They both wore P-coats that quickly got slipped off, falling to the floor uncaringly. They smiled and continued their conversation that we half-heard muffled outside of the door before they entered the room.

 

    Reggie wore a dark cranberry long sleeve t-shirt, faded forest green corduroy's and brown loafers. Erin, wore a cute short black dress with various red, pink, yellow, white and green flowers covering the silky-looking fabric, with skinny black jeans and black boots. As she said hello to Dave and I and shook our hands, Reggie put his keys down on the table. Erin shuffled about a bit and sipped on her cup of Starbucks. As Reggie made his way over to the keyboard, carefully stepping over the dirty clothes in the messy dorm, Erin snuck up behind him, giggling, and slammed her fingers down on a few random notes. They laughed and Reggie breathed in surprised delight, "Hey, that's actually a chord." "Oh, I know," she joked.

 

    They made their way over to the chairs and sat down, Erin, placed her coffee on the desk beside her. "So, what were some of those songs we used to jam on?" Reggie asked, quietly and controlled, but I could sense, even then, his excitement. Suddenly, he started strumming some chords and Erin innocently tossed him a glance, with a wide grin on her face and they began to sing.

 

    After they finished, Erin asked for Reggie's guitar and she sang and played some of her own songs. Her voice matched her playing, and her songs were quiet and sad and spoke of love, from the angle of a girl who still loved someone she had pretended to let go of a while ago.

 

    In-between the song-sharing and the passing back and forth of the guitar, Reggie and Erin talked about Erin's new boyfriend, a guitar that had broken in the summer and school schedules and classes.     They went back and forth, sometimes even forgetting who had played last and what they were playing. They were sweet and gentle with each other in their conversations, like two people who were trying to forget about how much they loved each other, just to focus on the friendship, secretly savoring every moment together to repeat in their heads before they would fall asleep later that evening.

 

    "…we didn't do that nearly as much as we should have at the end of the summer…" Erin said about a song they used to sing together. Reggie agreed with a nostalgic, I know, and looked off into the ceiling as he tuned the guitar. It's glances like these that I want to dive into, wishing the eyes of the day-dreamer could project the memory-film onto the wall for us wonderers to see, upside down, quick and crackling like that of an old sepia lens setting on an old camera.

 

    These were such pleasant moments.

 

    Dave sat on the opposite end of the top bunk and surfed the web on his computer, as I sat up and listened to Reggie and Erin. The violin of the folk track playing in the background cried as much as the singers rough, deep voice from the computer on the desk closest to Erin, for they had abandoned the guitar for the sake of their conversations.

 

    Erin was telling Reggie about a talk she had, had with one of her friends about sex and relationship issues. Reggie nodded and added in some yes', and oh's and oh really's, as he listened to Erin's sweet voice tell him about her friend. "…I think she would do better though if she would just move on…" Reggie said about her friends situation.

 

    I find it interesting how we go about our days so freely sometimes, and so nonchalant the others, even when every one of us has misplaced something we're still searching for.

 

    As I watched Erin and Reggie exchange stories, trade memories and share subtle grins and laughs, I wanted the ability to bring them their summer. The one they had misplaced. The one with all the affection, innocence and broken guitars. However, time has never had the power to stop good music, and sitting there attentively and calm, I could see it hasn't stopped them from their singing either. And I'm sure it never will.

 

    The guitar was finally placed to lean on the bunk beds ladder, and their hands were instead used to emphasize the telling of their stories, a different, more subtle song began to sing. So, Dave and I removed ourselves from the bunks, threw on some coats and headed to buy some pizza, leaving them with their music.

Reviews

[ThePaperPrincess]

I loved this. My favourite part had to be the description of the way Erin sang, it was beautiful and sad at the same time. This story was simple and oh-so sweet, happy to have read this, cannot wait to read more from you.

[Cris Roley]

That's very kind of you! Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Cris