Five

Elliot

 

Thank F**k she didn’t notice me. That’s one sure way to look a little desperate isn’t it? To be the guy lurking in the grass. Not ok. I didn’t even know what I was doing there anyway. It wasn’t the kind of thing I normally did. Showing interest, I mean. 

She walked through the trees clutching roses in her hand and didn’t see me. She just smiled at the dapple-grey horse tethered nearby as he stamped a hoof and for a moment I could have almost been in some strange story about people that don’t really exist, in a world that could only be made up. 

I think too much.

She lifted herself onto tiptoes to reach up to the horse. It’s funny; I’m normally attracted to height, something about the eye-level. Maybe I like someone that can stare me out. But there was something about her that made me want to protect her. But more than that, she made me feel like I had to protect her. I knew she didn’t need it. I think I needed it. 

That was new.  

I planned to stay away that day. Find my uncle, catch up on work and be extra, extra helpful. Collect the money, be a good boy. Then I was supposed to find Ben, Reggie and the rest and be not such a good boy. Find someone fun. I’m always up for fun, anything that drowns out all the other s**t in my head. But instead I changed my clothes and thought of nothing else but being there. Lurking in the trees. Trying not to seem desperate. I’ve never once worried about seeming to be anything before.

She wound rose stems through the horse’s bridle as he hung his head low enough for her to reach and I couldn’t help but smile as I saw it. Almost too f*****g cute for words really and I don’t think I’ve ever used the word cute.She was muttering to him, in French I think. Singing perhaps? Humming a soft tune. 

She was beautiful. 

Not just in the way that faces and places and sunsets are beautiful. 

I’d rarely taken the time to notice that in people before. But on this day, the thought had hit me like a lead weight. 

She was beautiful. 

And all the parts of her, inside and out, the best and the worst of them, would be beautiful to me, even if they weren’t to anyone else. I didn’t even know everything about her then. Normally, people are hot or they’re not. We forget each other afterwards anyway so I never go beyond face value. And when it comes to girls �" I don’t even have close friends that are female, that is to say - I’ve never met a girl that wanted to be justfriends with me but in their defense, I hadn’t looked hard. Sometimes I wanted to, often I wanted to be a million different things and I’d been trying, I really had. It makes me feel awful to admit all this but you should know that I’m a bit of an a*****e most of the time, I don’t mean to be but most people don’t. Ben tells me it’s all an act �" thinks he sees through it. If it is then I’ve worn it so well that I can’t even tell anymore. But I’m pretty sure I’m just a dick. I’ve been trying to change, I’m doing well about fifty per cent of the time, and that’s forty-nine per cent more than I’d achieved in the last three wasted years.

 

I took steps toward her, hoping she hadn’t seen me linger and that she couldn't read the thoughts in my head as my eyes rolled over the shape of her for the tenth or eleventh time. 

“Is he a little bit French too?” She stopped still as I rested a hand on her horse’s neck. Her face was bare, freshly washed and dusted with freckles across her nose and cheeks. I was struck by how much paler her eyes were in the daylight, unnaturally silver. Not grey like I’d thought when I first saw them. Not golden like they looked for a moment at the bonfire. 

They reminded me of something-

“This is Hemingway.” She interrupted. “Mon Petite Chou.” She kissed his nose softly. 

“Good name, buddy.” I nodded in approval. She reached for the plaits in the horse’s mane, delicately unthreading them and I copied her. Oh, if my friends had seen me then. I would never have lived it down. Part of me didn’t care. “Does he appreciate the flowers?” 

“Oh yes. He’s a realman.” She threw me a glare and I smiled wider than I intended. 

“I can relate. Love a flower,” I said andshe looked at me for a moment before pulling one of the roses free. She shortened the stem and slotted it behind my ear as a smile spread across her face. “I’ll wear it all day.” I followed her eyes as she noticed my change of clothes, my ripped black jeans and old, blue t-shirt. She said nothing as she pulled the flower out from my hair again and tucked it into her own plait. I needed to change the subject away from me. “What’s the occasion?” I nodded at the other flowers in her hand.

“Another journey,” she said, her voice more pallid than before.

“Why aren’t you wearing your necklace, Skylark?” A woman interrupted from behind us. 

That word.

That voice.

It stopped my thoughts and my breath with it. 

“Oh, you didn’t tell me company was coming.”

“Company doesn’t wait for an invitation.” She grinned at me and it tugged at me in bizarre ways - making my stomach muscles clench and my heart race. Not for the reasons you’re thinking.

Didn’t I know that smile?

The parts together triggered a memory that I tended to bury for periods of time. I tried to control my breathing as the strange footsteps came toward us across the grass. I didn’t want to turn around. I was scared to see the face that matched the voice, but I had to. So I turned to the stranger and I just stared at her, like a dumbfuck I just stared. As if I’d forgotten all the functions and the basics of making sounds and seeming polite.  Her hair was trying to be as long as her niece’s, her frame draped in excess material, ruffles and lace. There was familiar music in her movements that came from tiny silver discs hung from a cord around her hips. She was taller than Aurélie and statuesque with a soft tone, calm and calming all at once and I knew her. I knew that calm.I hadn’t even looked at her the other day, hadn’t even noticed her. Hadn’t even thought about the horse and the wagon. I can be easily distracted; I can try too hard to be the things my friends want me to be. 

She took my hand into hers. Good thing, because I literally did nothing. Useless. Just standing there with a blank face. 

“Elliot Kelly.” I spoke quickly, unusually flustered.

“It really is a pleasure, young man.” She smiled, staring into my face a moment too long with familiar eyes. I searched her voice, slowly pairing it with pieces of that memory not often recalled. She released my hand and turned to her niece. “Regardé.” She held out her palm flat, as if she was holding something that lived and breathed and she placed it carefully over her niece’s head. “It must always, always be with you now. Understand?” The dull gold caught the light and lit up the vines and roses etched into the metal. 

I watched as it fell onto her skin. 

A memory playing in reverse. 

A bed. 

A loose weave blanket. 

A cold wagon, blood red against the snow. 

I looked back at the cars parked around the field, taking it in as quickly as I could, trying to find that one wagon and match it to the picture in my head. And there it was, tucked under the trees. That same blood red. That same hanging lantern.

S**t

Her Aunt was looking at me, a glow in her eyes as the corners of her lips curled subtly into a knowing grin. She shook her head gently at me, flaring her eyes once and willing me to say nothing, to do nothing. Just play along. 

I swallowed, I was paying too much attention to my breathing to appear normal. Just be f*****g normal.I watched the girl in front of me as she traced her finger over the trinket. I watched it all in some sort of imaginary - brain meltdown - slow motion. My head was playing tricks, it wasn’t real. 

I’m dreaming. Just a dream. 

Never normally remember my dreams. Never normally dream like that but who cares, that had to be the explanation. Maybe the summer had finally caught up with me. Maybe my life had.

I lied to myself and didn’t believe a word. 

The woman leant toward me whispering words into my ear as Aurélie watched us and when she pulled away, my face was quiet. I didn’t know if I’d heard everything she’d said, I definitely hadn’t understood it all. I focused on the light reflecting in those silver eyes. 

I had seen them before. 

Of course I had. 

Before yesterday, before the bonfire. I had stared into them and been absorbed by them before. Her eyes were pools of memory and history and I was a part of it. She had no idea. She was waiting for me to say something, make a comment, annoy her.

“What’s with the Skylark thing?” I forced a smile.

She narrowed her eyes at me because she was remembering some stupid thing I’d said that morning about names and how I didn’t care about them. Because I didn’t care, I don’t, I’m that kind of guy. That’s what they all say. But now I’d collected two of hers and chosen her a third and she thought it was funny. I still just stared at her, like I was having some kind of internal breakdown and she was completely oblivious.

The squealing sound of fiddles from the band drifted in between us and pierced the tension that no one felt but me. Her Aunt turned her head urgently in its direction - eyes wide at the sound of the melody.

“It’s our song.” She gushed. “Will you dance with me, ma fleur? It’s been so long.”  

Aurélie grimaced at the thought, looking toward me for an escape, a reason not to. Hell, I was seconds away from running over there without saying another word so who was I to help?

“Don’t look at me.” I shrugged at her. “I’m supposed to be over there with them.” I half smiled, hiding the panic that tugged at my insides. I was an expert at hiding. “I was just coming to ask if you were heading over.” Pretty good at lying too.

“That settles it then.” Vivien was giddy as she dropped her shawl, the jangle of her belt picking up pace with the skip in her step as she pulled her niece toward the sound.

“See what you’ve done?” Aurélie smiled sarcastically at me and for a moment it broke through the noise of everything else and silenced the relentless crashing of all the thoughts in my head.                 

How is it possible? 

       You need to get away from this! 

     This is too much. 

              What are you doing here?

  This is f*****g crazy!

It takes a lot to rattle me, to unsettle me like that. This girl, this skylark, had managed it in two days and she didn’t even know.

I followed them toward the crowd hoping for the familiar sight of my friends and looking for a distraction from thoughts I didn’t know how to deal with.I patted Ben on the back as I reached for my guitar and slotted myself between the band as they practiced the intro to the song for a third time. Music was always the perfect distraction for me growing up and there was a lot to be distracted from behind my front door. I learnt a new chord to hide every unhappy thought. These days I used the chords to pretend I was some kind of musician.

 “Birthday girl.” He nodded a greeting toward her and let his usual smirk turn to the biggest grin but she hardly acknowledged him. So distracted by all the screaming normality. Benny sighed. “Dude, you realise you’ve demolished my chance with her right?” He was whispering.

“Pretty sure you didn’t have any chance to begin with, buddy.” I nudged him. “Don’t panic Benny. I’m just making friends.”

“Um, since when?”

“Um, since today. So really, go right ahead.” He shook his head at me, pretending to be pissed off. He loves me really. 

My guitar rested against me. The paint had worn thin on its body, parts stuck together with thick tape and fading stickers, it didn’t always work the way it was supposed to - we had that in common. I put the pick between my teeth as I tuned the strings, focusing intently, wrinkles in my forehead. I knew she was staring. I let my head empty, and recited the chords to myself; these were the soothing habits that had started to wear from so much use. Much healthier than the other habits I had gathered and broken over the years. But she was studying me, I could feel it, so I studied my guitar even harder. But there I was in plain sight and there was no hiding or filling the space with a witty remark. She couldn’t help but look at me, just as I couldn’t look away from her last night.

What was this? 

Every second looking made us want to look a second more. Every glance from her sent a thrill over my skin and I knew every stare I gave back made her hairs stand on end with the pulse of some invisible electricity that we both felt. I had noticed it all. 

I’m good at noticing things. 

I wondered if she could feel it now. I was confident enough to believe that she did, that she felt all that I felt, the difference was that I could shut it out. Convince myself that it wasn’t real, that this wasn’t me. Pretend I didn’t care if she wasthe Skylark from the woods. I wanted to push out the thought and to bury it. I wanted to convince myself that she was fleeting like everyone was. It would pass. So I focused instead on the music, avoided her stare, tried to control mine. 

I knew I would fail eventually.