Three

Aurélie

 

I thought the Bourbon - all two glasses of it �" would have dulled the memory of the night before.  But as I peeled my eyes open there it was, a perfectly intact show reel. Who was that person, that girl dancing there? I lingered on the memory of his face and the sensation of hands resting on my dress. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t even a molecule of me. But I liked it, whoever it was. 

I pulled at the knitted blanket to bury myself further into the messy bed I fell into last night - fell into, closed my eyes, and hoped for memory loss. The memory loss didn’t come. Hiding under the blanket wouldn’t make it a different day, different town. It wouldn’t make any difference at all. “Get up.” I said it aloud as if hearing the words would force me to obey my own instruction. 

I slid from my bed and threw on another lace dress in my trunk and tucked my necklace beneath the collar. My face brightened a little when I threw cold water over it to rinse away the sting in my eyes. 

Vivien had already left for work. It was past nine, it was unusual for her to let me sleep so long so I decided she must have been annoyed at me by now. My strides through the grass towards her were confident at first and it was easy to ignore the throng of voices and bodies busying themselves around me, herding animals and setting up the field. But even with those brave first steps, I couldn’t do it. I thought I saw Ben in the distance, he would remember, maybe others too. Surely seeing himagain wouldn’t be a bad thing, but I’d already decided. Vivien hadn’t woken me, so maybe she didn’t need me. 

I turned with a sudden jerk and before I could do anything else, crashed into another body. My face hit the stranger’s shoulder with an unforgiving force that turned everything momentarily white. My body stumbled backward and I gripped onto material, whatever I could reach for, and pulled myself toward them. The white subsided to become dizziness instead and I could feel the hands against my back holding me upright as the smell of cigarette smoke and stale whiskey filled the air. I focused on a familiar t-shirt, a shirt layered on top, dark trousers and old boots. My breath caught in my throat and my eyes widened as I pushed the mess of hair out of my face. I wondered how long I had been stood there like that. How stupid must I have looked? It felt like minutes but it had been only seconds slowed down to make the whole thing a little more mortifying.  I tilted my head up, now aware of the people that passed and weaved their way around us. 

“Are you ok?” I didn’t answer. “You know; most people just start with hello. It’s a little easier.” He half smiled as he looked down at me, a little dishevelled in his day-old clothes. All I could do was focuson the colour of his eyes in the daylight. A swirl of greens and coppers and from where I stood, mesmerising.

“You were following me?” I stepped away, rubbing at my forehead shakily. 

“Like a creep? No.” He shook his head as he spoke. “I’m not that type of guy.”

“Are you the type that makes a habit of trying to knock people out?” 

“Not women, no.” He smiled widely as he pulled his rolled cigarette from behind his ear. “I’m feeling like I should introduce myself properly.” He tapped the end of it against his palm before resting it in the corner of his mouth and lighting it. “Elliot.” He held out a hand to me as tendrils of smoke spilled from his mouth. I didn’t give him mine back �" my name or my hand. I kept my face straight, my emotions straighter.

“Should I say sorry about last night?” I blurted at him as the smoke curled above his head.

“You should not.” He frowned and shook his head softly.

“I don’t normally do that sort of thing.” 

“You absolutely should.” 

A heat spread across my neck as I remembered the whiskey burn spilling down my throat, the feel of his chest against my back and how I had let myself imagine what his skin would feel like against mine. I swallowed the thought away before he could see a trace of it.

“Are you from around here?” I was trying to sound confident. Small talk was new to me. 

“At this present moment, yes. Working for my Uncle.” The smoke escaped through his nostrils and I noticed how he directed it away from me. “You’re sure I didn’t concuss you or something?” 

Or something 

I nodded.

“Well if you’re in no immediate danger I should go and do something responsible with my time. Less fun though, let’s be honest.” He watched me for a moment. “You realise we’re not done here though, right?” I said nothing. “You could meet me on the river banks at say, eight tonight?” I didn’t answer. “If you want to that is? No pressure.” He held his hands up.

I just nodded at him. “Alright then. You’ll have to try to keep your hands off me this time though, I’m really very shy you know.” He smiled at me again and I could hardly bear it. 

“What am I meeting you for?” My fingers played with the fabric of my dress.  How starkly different I must have seemed to him in the daylight.

“Well, perhaps I’d like to get to know you.” He thought something to himself as he backed away before turning and walking. “Or maybe we can finish that dance,” he called back loudly, a grin in his voice. 

I was sure if my Aunt were next to me she’d be frowning as much as she did when she saw my single finger solute.  I dropped my head into my hands. Was it normal to be this clueless at sixteen or was it just my extra special upbringing? It was all too clear that I would be asking myself that a lot. 

***

I’d counted every minute up until 7.56pm and then all the steps from the wagon. Then all the glares I would likely get from Vivien if she knew where I was going which only made me wonder why she was even lettingme go in the first place. I wasn’t naive enough to think she didn’t know. She always knew.  But she’d been so different those last few days and I couldn’t explain it. 

I hadn’t changed my clothes. Was I supposed to? I was frizzy from the heat and almost certain I smelt like farm animals and rotting fruit. It was too late. 

I ambled along the river banks, keeping time with the steady current until I saw him there lying flat on his back with his hands behind his head and his feet crossed as he tapped one of them to some silent sound.

“Am I disturbing you?” 

He drew the roll-up from his mouth as he propped himself up. “So you do know actual words.” He grinned. 

“You’re not funny you know.”

“And you’re not adorable in the slightest.” He watched as I sat beside him. 

“Pets are adorable.” I frowned.

“Fair point.” He watched me, his face illuminated by the glow from the festoon lights in the trees opposite us. “My friends are taking bets on whether you’ve actually spent time with other kids before.” 

“Who bet that I hadn’t?” 

“Sort of everyone, except me.” He sat up as he answered. “So. Yeah. My friends bet against me which hurts, ya know?  But personally I don’t think it’s very likely that a teenager, such as yourself, could have avoided other teenagers, such as my self.” He rested his own hand on his chest. “Pretty sure it’s got to be impossible actually. Unless you’re like a recluse.” He turned his head away to breathe out more smoke. “If you are then I’m sorry.” He paused. “I mostly say things without thinking.”

“You talk a lot.” I kind of smiled as he ran his hand through his hair and messed it up even more.

“Yeah, it’s been said. I’m unapologetic about it.”

“Well, your friends were right to bet against you this time.”

He looked a little surprised. “Ok. Wait, what? D****t. I was pretty certain.” I shrugged apologetically. “Well, you just got a whole lot more interesting and let’s face it, you were already pretty high on the interest scale to begin with.” He turned himself toward me. “I’m going to need ten questions.”

“You’re going to need what?” 

“Tenquestions that you absolutely have to answer.”He leant an elbow on his knee and bit at his thumbnail. He was staring straight at me and I felt the weight of it. 

“Is that how people get to know each other?”

“Maybe. Don’t care. It’s how I’m going to get to know you.”

I looked at him properly for a moment, at the graze of stubble over his chin and upper lip. It would make him look older but for the boyish face. Was he studying me just as intently? He was hiding it well if he was.

“You’re not from around here.” Not a question, a statement. I shook my head.“And you had your first drink last night.”

“Yes.” Another obvious one.

“And you liked it?” I didn’t answer; I tried to keep a straight face.“Was that another yes?”

“Was that another question?” I smirked and his face lit up.

“You must have gone to school though?” I shook my head. “So you’re illiterate?”

I couldn’t help the smile. “I’m positive I could outsmart you on any subject.” Any subject but Life skills.He liked it when I answered back and it brought on a smile that spread to his eyes.

“You were born in England?”

I shook my head. “France. But we’ve moved around a lot.”

“You’re lucky then.” He put his roll up out against the sole of his battered Converse.

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“So you’re French?” 

“A little. My father was, my Aunt, but my mother was Roma, from Bulgaria.”

“Are you a traveller? Part of a group or something?”

“Something.”

He lay back down on the grass and tucked his hands under his head. “I knew I could hear a bit of an accent.”

“Likewise.” I said, he didn’t respond. 

I squinted in the dim light to focus on the black typewriter lettering on the inside of his bicep. I’d never really paid attention to tattoos on people before; I suppose I hadn’t ever been close enough to anyone to notice.

“What does your tattoo say?” 

“Well, that’s a very personal question.” He wasn’t looking at me as he spoke. “Do you like tattoos?” 

I shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about them.”

“Not in a rush to get one of your own then?”

“Oh, I already have one.”

He sat up again. “Seriously?” He was thinking. “I wouldn’t say you’re the tattoo type.” 

“Maybe I’m not any kind of type.” I arched an eyebrow back at him.

“I’m noticing that.” He curled the corner of his mouth as he spoke. “Show me this imaginary tattoo then.”

It wasn’t as neat as his; the ink was fading and it had stretched with my skin as I grew. Now it was just a faint layer at the very top of my spine. I pulled my hair to one side and he moved closer, sending a curl of a shiver across my back as I felt him looking at me and the two small black triangles laying end to end, each one no bigger than a fingerprint. One was just an ordinary triangle, the other had a third straight line running down its centre. Somehow I felt like I was revealing a part of myself and it made me feel vulnerable. And alive. 

“Why triangles?” He asked, almost a laugh in his voice.

“It’s a family symbol I think.” I exhaled into the darkening sky as he lingered there for a second. 

“A family symbol you think? Like a branding?” I shrugged. “You’ve never asked about it?” He moved away from me. “Aren’t you curious?”

“Always.”

“Ah. You don’t get the answers you need?”

I let my hair drop as I turned back to him. “I hardly remember it’s there anyway, it probably doesn’t mean anything.” I paused. “What about yours?” I shifted us away from questions I couldn’t answer as he rolled up his t-shirt sleeve.

“Well, all tattoos should mean something. Even if their meaning is to be meaningless.” He held out his arm casually. “Even if it’s just a quote from a book by your favourite author.”

 

Face your life. Its pain. Its pleasure.

Leave no path untaken.

“This was my first.”

“You read?” I teased.

“Often. I’m almost up to adult level.”

“Does it have a meaning?” I read the words again as if they might tell me more about him.

“Well, sure. Not one I share though.” He was a little more serious as he thought about something, looking down at his shoes and scratching at a mark on the fabric. And just like that he shook it all off and smiled.

“Well, I like it.” I said. “With or without a meaning.” 

The difference between the boy I saw yesterday and this one was infinite. As different as I was to the stranger that wore my mother’s dress. He was a little arrogant in one breath, much softer in another. “I think you’re out of questions,” I said, filling the silence. 

“Nope. I’ve been counting.” He shuffled again to get comfortable on the grass. “You don’t mix with people so I assume no one is going to get in my face for spending time with you, no boyfriend, girlfriend?” I shook my head adamantly. “Any one else with as much freedom as you would be trying to hook up with someone in every city.” It was strange to me that he thought I was free. “I’m the opposite. An average amount of attention and I take full advantage of it. But I’m nobody’s boyfriend.” He was almost proud of that. “That probably makes me sound like a dick. Sorry. Well not sorry. But sorry if it offends you.”

“Why does it make you sound like a…like that?”

“I’m told sleeping around is disrespectful to myself, or to the people I’m sleeping with? Or something like that.” He scratched his head. “It’s not. It’s always mutual. I’m pretty good at knowing when someone just wants a one-time thing so that’s what I look for. And I’m not even trying to prove I’m a lad by having some ridiculous number to show off to my friends, you know? I actually just really like people, and sex and I want to spare anyone from having to be in a relationship with me. But that explanation doesn’t normally work with older types.” He paused, he was staring at me. Trying to get a read. “I’m sorry, is this a lot to take in?”

I must have looked a little overwhelmed, but I was just listening �" processing. “Why does it matter either way?”

“You know what, if you haven’t been told how you should feel about the whole s**t shaming debate then I’m not going to put opinions in your head. It’s rare to meet someone so…”

“Clueless?”

He laughed quietly. “I’m going with unaffected. When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

He shook his head pretending to be crushed by the news. “S**t, really, that soon? Adorable andelusive, that’s a pretty fatal mix you know.”

“Nowyou’ve run out of questions.” My face was a little smug. 

“Ah, but youhaven’t.”

I sighed. “You don’t give up.” He didn’t disagree. Just twitched his eyebrow and grinned.

“Ok, tell me some things you like,” I asked after a pause. We were facing each other again, our legs crossed in a mirror image. 

“Um. That’s not a question. That’s a lazy diversion.” I just smiled at him. “Ok, cheater. I’ll play your way. Let’s think �" writing.” He was looking into the sky for answers. “Music �" the making of and listening to, practical stuff, I guess, like carpentry. Some engine stuff. Sex. Sex with boys, girls, everyone else in between. Liquor. Oh and Ben.”

“Everyone in between?” My face had lit up with intrigue.

“Pansexual if you prefer a label, I don’t.” He smiled a little, maybe he was laughing at me on the inside. I was still processing. Trying to make it look like listening. “You’ll catch up. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t think there’s enough time in the world for me to learn all the things I’ve missed.” He had no answer for that, and that’s how I knew I was right. 

He changed the subject. He was a writer, he told me, of average poetry and mediocre songs. Mostly the songs.

“Now you.” 

I thought about it. I knew I already liked the way he smiled at me almost in spite of himself; he would catch himself doing it and stop, but that’s not what he meant, was it?

“I haven’t tried a lot of things, I’m still learning.”

“That’s alright.”

“I like words,” I said.

“An unusual answer.” He stifled a yawn. “Do you have a favourite? I bet you have a favourite.” 

“Petrichor.”

“Pfft. I didn’t even finish school and I know that’s not a real word.” There was a quiet laugh in his voice. “Still sticking to that comment about outsmarting me, yeah?” 

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Actually, you’re wrong. It’s my favourite of the P words”.

“And it’s meaning?”

“The smell after rainfall.”

“Nah, you’re messing about.” I frowned at him. “Ok. Ok. Pretend for a second that I believe you. You know this word how?”

“I like to read the dictionary when we visit libraries.”

He just smiled at me. “You know, some people feel the need to apologise for that kind of thing. Or hide it.”

“Why?”

“I guess they’d be worried about being judged for it or whatever. Not that I’m judging.”

“I’ve never been told it’s anything to apologise for.”

His smile was wider. “And that’s how it should stay. You are a rare thing. Most young human types judge others because adults teach us what fits and what doesn’t. But not you.” 

I leant forward and whispered with a smile. “I’m human too though.”

“I’m not so sure.” He whispered back.

“Do youhave a favourite word?” 

He thought about it. “I have a favourite Fword.” 

I couldn’t help but smile at him, at everything he said. I had no control over it. I lost track of the minutes and let the evening fall around me as we jumped between topics, the mundane and the ridiculous. His friends, his work. He seemed so wise. We spoke until the hours had glided by and the festoon lights faded and when we grew restless we stretched out side by side, all six foot of him lying next to me. He was far enough away that it felt innocent. Close enough that I felt safe. I would never be the best judge of what is or isn’t normal but I was certain that this wasn’t how friendships formed. It should take longer than the time it took for dusk to layer the sky and darkness to follow. What about the ringing in my ears and the tightness in my throat? It’d been there since last night by the bonfire. Was this all part of making friends? It’s not how it was written in the teenage novels I’d read.

He turned his head to look at me as I kept my gaze on the first stars of the night, I was scanning the darkness for the constellations I knew. Cassiopeia, Orion. All those comforting, familiar patterns.I felt him watching me but when I turned to look at him, his eyes had closed and his face had stilled as his breathing fell quieter. I turned onto my side, watching him at first before my eyes grew heavy too and I couldn’t keep sight of him anymore.

And there we lay, two perfect strangers who already felt like friends. I knew it wasn’t normal, but I also knew that everything was exactly as it should be.