Sir R. M8gic1an
2009-08-28 22:00:15
———-
This is the start of perhaps what might come to be my first published book. Let's sure hope so. It is based on my own story, 3 weeks of my life. Starts the day my girlfriend left the holiday house we were sharing to go back home, because that is how we had organized summer. It will end on the last few moments before I went to croacia to be with her. Not all will be true, not all will be told, and not all will be exact, but it should be enough for those who know to recognize the picture I paint, and should still make an enjoyable read to those who don't know it.
———–
“Gusty! I need you man!” - he cried out in the shower; “Why? Why?!”. The sound of silence was deafening. He slumped in the shower. Gusty was his best friend who he had met a couple of years previously, and they got on like Tom and Jerry. Strangely enough, after a bit of bickering, they became as close as brothers, having shared an entire life path without ever meeting. Trying to draw comfort from the hot water, it was no use. He was hollow. It was harsh, as he had just had two heavenly weeks, and the bright spark which had caused them had gone. Gusty wasn't even anywhere close by, since he and his family had moved to Brazil. But then again, he had never – physically – lived close by.
Tears, tears, tears, tears. He got up – I can't keep on doing this – and cleaned after himself, making his way to the balcony. The white marble floor that furnished the opening looked very dis-ordinary. Two wooden lounging chairs complemented the ímpar table. He clambered up on the table and sat bleakly.. The cold wood felt refreshing on his warm legs. From bad habits he pulled a cigarette out of his pack, also retrieving his Zippo, which he had picked up in London, and lit the Camel cigarro in his mouth. He stared west, towards the ocean. There was something calming about it – Maybe one day I'll reach the horizon – Countless other dreamers had. He was a man, or perhaps still a boy, who had succeeded in what he had aimed for in life so far. It's easy to dream when all you want is handed to you on a silver platter.
Sitting on the table, legs crossed, he took out his phone.
- “Hey, still remember me?”
- “Hello!” - she nearly shouted, surprised - “Of course I do!”
- “Wanna come over?”
- “When?”
- “Tonight, any time you'd like. House is free, fridge is full, sangria is ready, might as well make the most out of it.”
- “I'll be there.”
He slowly walked to the supermarket, to purchase food and ingredients to prepare sangria, as he said he had already made. What he said had not been completely true, but that's the way he did it. He wouldn't go telling someone he still has to go food shopping before the other person comes home for dinner, he enjoyed providing comfort.
Having decided to set up a varied meal, he chopped onion rings, garlic, paprika and tomatoes all into separate bowls, and went on to trim a diversity of meats into squared pieces – Fuck – as he wanted dinner to have several courses – One of these days I'll actually lose a finger. It was just a tiny cut. He smiled at the irony of feeling pain. He ran his finger under cool water to wash away the blood, carrying on preparing the dinner.
The door rang. The sound of the bell scrambled his vision for a split second. It always did, the sudden sound of the bell screeching always fucked up his mind a little. He moved towards the door to answer the phone
- “Good Evening?”
- “Sir, I have Miss Messias for you here.”
- “Let her in; How is she looking this evening?”
- “Gorgeous, Sir.”
- “Good, Thank you.”
He hung up the phone. - Gorgeous – It played on his mind. Up until now they had been nothing more than good friends, but she dressed up for him. He opened the door slightly so she could get in, and hurried to the kitchen to busy himself.
- “Hello?”
- “Hey! Come in, come in. Like I've said before.. 'mi casa..'”
She interrupted;
- “'es tu casa..'”
She flashed him a smile. He looked down sheepishly.
“So.. what are you up to?” she asked, breaking the ice. “That is for me to know, for you to wonder.”
He guided her to the dining room. The room was painted in different tones of light brown, which he had picked himself. The paint complemented the expensive mahogany table and chairs. A large painting was hung on the wall, a black and white piece of no specific form. To many people who had seen it it meant nothing, but to him it was everything. It had been obtained in Thailand whilst he had been searching for something to fit his taste. This painting hit him like a beacon, reminding him of moments in his life, how nothing was ever absolutely clear, how everything had another side. It was barely visible over the Candlelight. He had put his Sound of Nature CD as background music, which was echoing around the spacious room. The table has been set previously that evening. Two plates, two sets of cutlery, a wine glass, a water glass and a soda glass. In the middle of the table was what looked like a squared frying pan with no handle. That's what it was; Once it was connected to the electricity it would act as a frying pan. Casting a wider glance, other details could be noted. All the food which he had cut that afternoon was amiably arranged over several plates, waiting to be electrified. The meal was obviously going to be a self-service one, as he loved them to be, for that allowed a wide choice of dishes and flavours.
She admired the meal, shocked. It took her several seconds to formulate a sentence.
- “Are you crazy?! This looks beautiful, but there was no need!”
- “Well, I enjoy cooking and I haven't seen you in half a year. Why not?”
- “Well, I am hungry”
She laughed heartily. Her laugh took him back. He began to ponder their past together.
- “I hope you don't mind if I pig in?”
Her voice bought him back to the land of the mortal. He looked flustered.
- “Serve yourself” - God, She does look gorgeous -
Conversation hit off as usual. It always did. How had the year been, friends, boyfriends, family, random banter. It was truly impressive, because they were able to talk hours on end, about everything and nothing, even if they hadn't seen each other for years.
- “I'm worried about my brother…”
This took him aback, he was shocked and didn't really know what to say. It was completely random.
- “W..what's up with him?”
- “Well… I told you how he loves mountain biking?”
He grunted agreement, not taking his eyes from the meat slowly electrocuting in the pan.
- “He was up on a trail in the mountain the other day, the most bumpy yet beautiful scenery he's seen, according to him…”
She paused and looked down.
- “And… ?” He enquired further..
- “Well.. A squirrel crossed his path, in order not to kill it my brother had to dive sideways and ended up rolling down the mountain's edge. He hit a tree, slamming leg first in to a huge trunk.”
- “Is his leg all that is injured?” He asked, clearly concerned, although at the time the cooking meat worried him more.
- “Well.. Yeah, but it did ruin his whole summer… I mean..”
He pulled out his cigarette packet and offered her one. She graciously accepted and stood up with him.. “Well it could be worse..” he smiled at her and followed her out onto the balcony, switching off the now charred meat.
The table still looked oddly out of place. It matched none of the decoration concepts applied to the balcony, didn't go with the lounging chairs, and served no practical purpose. Why the hell is the table there? She sat on it.. Oh well, maybe there is some use to it.
“You got a lighter?” she asked, anxious to get her nicotine.
He fumbled inside his pockets. Here again was the Zippo, reminding him of where he'd be the following year. He lit her smoke.
“Do you know what that means?” - What the hell is she on about?
“What does what mean?” She chuckled.
“Lighting the cigarette for me; It means I own you seven years of good sex” A smile touched her eyes.
“Oh, do you now? When do I get to charge?”
“You don't”
He looked straight into her eyes, making a weak attempt of keeping the confusion out of his face. He grabbed the ashtray and brought it closer, distracting himself from her. It was an interesting ashtray, if you could call it that. In fact it was actually a plastic glass he had “obtained” a fortnight ago, while enjoying a glass of juice; A better use had come of it now. He looked up at her again – Gorgeous, Sir - She was wearing a long, black skirt supporting a dark blue star pattern across the right side. It complimented her blue shirt, which was held up by many straps across the back. The straps had crumpled a little, revealing more of her cleavage . In the dimmed lights it gave her a rather mysterious aura.
Miss Messias was a 19 year old female, but she was a woman under all aspects. She had finished high-school and started to pursue a career in the Drama world, one in which she was quite a success. Having written, published and acted three plays of her own she had earned herself a considerable reputation, as well as participating in charity acts and having turned down the most popular Portuguese TV soap, something which caused a considerable turmoil for the tabloids' world. Her relationship's history was long and sad, but somehow she always managed to keep it all below the surface. She even had, once, attempted a relationship with Gusty, which hadn't worked out due to time restraints. They now shared a deep friendship, although the attraction never quite went away.
She gave up her seat on the table and came to sit besides him, leaning on his shoulder.
——————————————- ~ ~ ~ ——————————————-
She woke him up, softly, gently. Before actually opening his eyes, he chose to analyse the situation, inwardly. What is that smell? - He could still feel her perfume. She was sitting at the edge of his bed, her hand idly brushing his chest, but it was the sound of her voice which had woken him. They were in his room, the sun filtering through the blue curtains, bathing the floor in its golden light, rendering different tones of orange across it. It made the garments which he had been wearing all the more obvious in the middle of the floor; She was fully dressed.
“I have to go…” she sighed “Wake up already, you sleepy bastard.”
“I usually greet people by saying 'good morning'” she clutched her hand on his arm, startled “but I guess I'm the unusual one around here.”
“Don't you go judgi…” he put a finger to her lips.
“Please, you already woke me up by calling me a bastard, let us share a cup of coffee before you find the right word to rouse me out of bed”
“Idiot.” she said, smiling.
He got up, and stared dully at the boxer shorts he was wearing. God I hate these; He chuckled at his thought. The boxers were the result of an LSD trip his girlfriend had had. Purple boxers, patterned with wavy yellow lines and pink, flying hippos. The hippopotamuses came in all shapes and forms, one carrying a cupid's bow, another a judge's hammer, a different one would carry a fishing rod, and others, carrying unlikely items such as flowers, DVD players, guitars, to the extreme point of a flying hippo carrying a non-flying one. These boxer shorts used to be the evening's entertainment whenever someone was not quite in their most righteous mind.
Making his way to the kitchen, without waiting for her, his mind was racing forwards, planning his day. Make coffee, taste the coffee, serve the coffee, … my thoughts are ridiculously slow this morning… see her out, call Mary, and then… He turned on the coffee machine; It started rumbling, begging for more water and a fresh supply of coffee grains. He granted it's request. He knew that soon enough the smell of freshly grounded coffee would fill his kitchen and they'd go on the balcony, sip coffee and enjoy a smoke.
“Coffee Ready?” She interrupted his thoughts.
“Anxious, are you now?”
“Can't say I got that much sleep…”
“Woke up with your own snoring?” he asked, jokingly.
“No… it's more you who sounds like a bear”
He looked away from the coffee machine at this point, and at her, wondering if he had a reason to apologize or if, as usual, she was just messing with him.
“Errr… I'm sorry I guess?” he blushed. He was perfectly aware he snored loudly, it ran in the family. “Just be happy I'm unlike my brother, he talks in his sleep.”
“Oh, really?? What does he say?”
“Usually he just mutters. Once he asked one of his friends for his math notebook.” She laughed heartily.
The coffee machine stole their attention, again. A red light was flashing. He took the two mugs and made his way to the balcony, setting them down on the floor, denying the odd table any use. Just the faintest glimmer of the ocean's pale blue was visible from his balcony. In companionable silence, they enjoyed their drinks.
“I really have to go…”
“Where to?” he asked, unconcerned.
“Driving lesson, but I really enjoyed the time we..” he interrupted
“Your welcome. Don't be a stranger.”
If someone can smile inwardly, she definitely did. She then left.
He went to his living room, turning the TV on so he'd have some noise in the house. He couldn't stand the silence of being on his own. He picked up the phone and dialled the number by heart.
“Hello?”
“Hey honey!” he sounded cheerful.
“How are you baby?” so did she.
“I'm good, just went for coffee with a friend, you?”
“Nothing special, watched a movie with Michael last night.”
What they would much later find out is that it wasn't just a friend, nor a movie. Mary and him had been dating for almost two years already. The relationship was quite serious, but not too long ago they had needed a break from each other as they were no longer being able to settle their disputes reasonably. She had then come with him to the holiday house, spent an amazing time, and returned home; He rapidly recovered his previous philosophy of relationships, meaning that if they were on a break then things didn't really matter.
“Yeah? Nice movie?” he asked, genuinely interested.
“Crap. As I've always told you, he really doesn't know what to watch”
“Ah well. As long as you had fun.”
“We did” She paused, “ laughed a lot.”
“What about?”
“Oh, just random stuff.”
They fell silent. The silence stretched.
“I miss you.” he said.
“I love you more than anything.” she answered.
“…”
“I've gotta go honey, return the movie.”
“Sure thing, I'll catch you later.”
“I'll email you tonight.”
“Ok, bye, I love you.” He put the phone down.
She'll email me tonight… He knew better than to get his hopes up. He knew just how much trouble she had keeping to her plans; Always something she hadn't predicted, always something new that happened, never enough time for everything. Seemed to be a slogan in her life, but whether it was because she really was a busy person or because she mismanaged her time he had not yet been able to figure out. So… what now? Unlike her, he had no trouble managing his time. During his summer he did his best to have as little responsibilities as possible, rather doing things in advance than having to worry over them during his holidays; Therefore, when it came to time management, he had all the time he could ever want on his hands, as he had no plans whatsoever.
His computer beeped. He recognized it as the chat's alarm for a new chatter starting a conversation. He got up from where he had been on the phone, to make his way to his computer which was comfortably lying on the sofa when it started beeping alarmingly fast. What the heck is going on…?
“Hey dude, you there? I really need to talk to you. Everything is completely messed up, I can barely hold it in anymore! You there?! Mom's gone crazy again, Dad ain't doing a thing about it, sis ain't even talking to me, I really have no clue what to do anymore! Usually I'd think it all through, but they even hold that against me!”
It was a wall of text. It was Gusty.
“Hey, hey.”
“Oh thank God!”
“Calm down gus, what the hell is up?”
“Well the usual ever since we moved here I guess, but I just couldn't hold it in anymore!”
“Hum.. what's the usual? You haven't updated me on that in a long time, although I always ask how's family…”
“Never mind it, I have to go anyway. But it did feel good to just let it all out.” He was puzzled. It was very unlike his best friend to act like this. Gusty went on, “You been hanging out with Gil lately?”
“Not really, I don't have his contacts…do you by any chance?”
“Yeah, +351 96 435 45 89”
“Oh cool, thanks!”
“Ok, I'll talk to you some other day. Massive bear hugs mate!” Gusty went offline.
This is turning out to be one hell of a strange day…He thought of calling Gil, but discarded the idea for the time being. I'll just go to the beach, call him later. He had been working out for the past month and knew he looked rather good. It felt satisfying to go to the beach and be the victim of not-so-discreet looks.
——————————————- ~ ~ ~ ——————————————-
Sunset. The horizon is closer today… Once again on the balcony, he was staring at the small stretch of visible sea with that look of purpose and hope which defined him so well. This time, on the table lay an empty pack of smokes; The table now seemed to serve as a temporary litter can. There was a very simple reason for all this hoping, all this thinking, all this dreaming. Not so many years ago he had been completely broken hearted and lost, and it was then that he had started thinking so much of what path he'd want to follow in life, and started paving his own way. This had become a self-sustained exercise, a constant personal analysis, of why he did something, of what he wanted to do. Now, it was no different. I feel like going crazy tonight, I wish to fly. It's been a while.
He took his phone out. Gil… He found his friend's number.
“Guess who?” he cheerfully greeted.
“Who?!” Gil was clueless as to the identity of the speaker.
Making his best mysterious tone, he asked:“Don't recognize me, do you?”. He had left his phone number as anonymous on purpose.
“Errr…Jõao?”
“I'm someone you don't see during the whole year…”
“NO! Are you kidding me?!” he heard someone laughing on the other end of the line - “When did you get here??”
“I am absolutely not kidding you at all!” he said, happy with the warm welcome. “What are you up to?”
“Not all that much really,” Gil admitted, “just watching TV.”
“Wanna have a drink sometime soon?”
“How about now?” Gil instantly shot back.
Taken aback he replied, “Err.. sure!”, pleasantly surprised.
“I'll be there in 10 minutes, my car is running again.” Gil sounded excited.
Stricken, he was now fairly clueless of what to do while he waited. He started thinking of all he had heard about Gil since the last time they had met. From dating a forty year old divorced with two children college woman to getting his driving license, succeeding in his first year of college studying performance arts, reaching the final cast of a singing contest, getting a friend with benefits and tremendously enjoying life, Gil had changed a lot. When they had first met, Gil had been a great person, a good friend and someone you could enjoy a pleasant night with. According to Gusty, Gil was now the brother type of person, someone absolutely amazing who you could spend an entire week with and not get bored. Perhaps bored but in a non-boring way due to the company.
He went into the kitchen and turned on his radio, in an attempt to kill the silence and pump his body with energy. He sat down on one of the chairs. The kitchen was fairly simple; No impressive adornments except that it was mainly made out of marble and dark mahogany wood, giving it a rather simple, but expensive, clean look. There were four chairs, including the one he was sitting on, huddled around the table where he usually ate his fast meals; His lunch dishes were still laying there. I should probably clean these up before he comes… The door rang. Too late now, who cares – He was quite excited with his friend's arrival.
He picked up the door phone.
“Good evening?”
“Sir, I have Mr. Gil here for you, should I..”
“Let him in!” he cut the doorman's speech, mid-sentence.
“He's by car sir.”
“So? Let him in, he knows where to park.”
This was not true; Gil would probably have no clue in which space to park, but he didn't really care about such small details that could be fixed later. He went back to the kitchen and took two small, squared whisky glasses. Reaching for his small bar, he grabbed a Pisang bottle and took the orange juice out of the bar. Gusty had showed them this mixture few years back, and now they occasionally mellowed on it. Spinning the bottles, he poured two glasses of it. Just as he was rotating them back to their original place he heard a knocking on the door. He opened it.
“D!” That's how his close friends called him.
———————————————-
:)
Any Thoughts?
Also, many thanks to ToF for reviewing and making suggestions and being basically a good friend
~RM
This is the start of perhaps what might come to be my first published book. Let's sure hope so. It is based on my own story, 3 weeks of my life. Starts the day my girlfriend left the holiday house we were sharing to go back home, because that is how we had organized summer. It will end on the last few moments before I went to croacia to be with her. Not all will be true, not all will be told, and not all will be exact, but it should be enough for those who know to recognize the picture I paint, and should still make an enjoyable read to those who don't know it.
———–
“Gusty! I need you man!” - he cried out in the shower; “Why? Why?!”. The sound of silence was deafening. He slumped in the shower. Gusty was his best friend who he had met a couple of years previously, and they got on like Tom and Jerry. Strangely enough, after a bit of bickering, they became as close as brothers, having shared an entire life path without ever meeting. Trying to draw comfort from the hot water, it was no use. He was hollow. It was harsh, as he had just had two heavenly weeks, and the bright spark which had caused them had gone. Gusty wasn't even anywhere close by, since he and his family had moved to Brazil. But then again, he had never – physically – lived close by.
Tears, tears, tears, tears. He got up – I can't keep on doing this – and cleaned after himself, making his way to the balcony. The white marble floor that furnished the opening looked very dis-ordinary. Two wooden lounging chairs complemented the ímpar table. He clambered up on the table and sat bleakly.. The cold wood felt refreshing on his warm legs. From bad habits he pulled a cigarette out of his pack, also retrieving his Zippo, which he had picked up in London, and lit the Camel cigarro in his mouth. He stared west, towards the ocean. There was something calming about it – Maybe one day I'll reach the horizon – Countless other dreamers had. He was a man, or perhaps still a boy, who had succeeded in what he had aimed for in life so far. It's easy to dream when all you want is handed to you on a silver platter.
Sitting on the table, legs crossed, he took out his phone.
- “Hey, still remember me?”
- “Hello!” - she nearly shouted, surprised - “Of course I do!”
- “Wanna come over?”
- “When?”
- “Tonight, any time you'd like. House is free, fridge is full, sangria is ready, might as well make the most out of it.”
- “I'll be there.”
He slowly walked to the supermarket, to purchase food and ingredients to prepare sangria, as he said he had already made. What he said had not been completely true, but that's the way he did it. He wouldn't go telling someone he still has to go food shopping before the other person comes home for dinner, he enjoyed providing comfort.
Having decided to set up a varied meal, he chopped onion rings, garlic, paprika and tomatoes all into separate bowls, and went on to trim a diversity of meats into squared pieces – Fuck – as he wanted dinner to have several courses – One of these days I'll actually lose a finger. It was just a tiny cut. He smiled at the irony of feeling pain. He ran his finger under cool water to wash away the blood, carrying on preparing the dinner.
The door rang. The sound of the bell scrambled his vision for a split second. It always did, the sudden sound of the bell screeching always fucked up his mind a little. He moved towards the door to answer the phone
- “Good Evening?”
- “Sir, I have Miss Messias for you here.”
- “Let her in; How is she looking this evening?”
- “Gorgeous, Sir.”
- “Good, Thank you.”
He hung up the phone. - Gorgeous – It played on his mind. Up until now they had been nothing more than good friends, but she dressed up for him. He opened the door slightly so she could get in, and hurried to the kitchen to busy himself.
- “Hello?”
- “Hey! Come in, come in. Like I've said before.. 'mi casa..'”
She interrupted;
- “'es tu casa..'”
She flashed him a smile. He looked down sheepishly.
“So.. what are you up to?” she asked, breaking the ice. “That is for me to know, for you to wonder.”
He guided her to the dining room. The room was painted in different tones of light brown, which he had picked himself. The paint complemented the expensive mahogany table and chairs. A large painting was hung on the wall, a black and white piece of no specific form. To many people who had seen it it meant nothing, but to him it was everything. It had been obtained in Thailand whilst he had been searching for something to fit his taste. This painting hit him like a beacon, reminding him of moments in his life, how nothing was ever absolutely clear, how everything had another side. It was barely visible over the Candlelight. He had put his Sound of Nature CD as background music, which was echoing around the spacious room. The table has been set previously that evening. Two plates, two sets of cutlery, a wine glass, a water glass and a soda glass. In the middle of the table was what looked like a squared frying pan with no handle. That's what it was; Once it was connected to the electricity it would act as a frying pan. Casting a wider glance, other details could be noted. All the food which he had cut that afternoon was amiably arranged over several plates, waiting to be electrified. The meal was obviously going to be a self-service one, as he loved them to be, for that allowed a wide choice of dishes and flavours.
She admired the meal, shocked. It took her several seconds to formulate a sentence.
- “Are you crazy?! This looks beautiful, but there was no need!”
- “Well, I enjoy cooking and I haven't seen you in half a year. Why not?”
- “Well, I am hungry”
She laughed heartily. Her laugh took him back. He began to ponder their past together.
- “I hope you don't mind if I pig in?”
Her voice bought him back to the land of the mortal. He looked flustered.
- “Serve yourself” - God, She does look gorgeous -
Conversation hit off as usual. It always did. How had the year been, friends, boyfriends, family, random banter. It was truly impressive, because they were able to talk hours on end, about everything and nothing, even if they hadn't seen each other for years.
- “I'm worried about my brother…”
This took him aback, he was shocked and didn't really know what to say. It was completely random.
- “W..what's up with him?”
- “Well… I told you how he loves mountain biking?”
He grunted agreement, not taking his eyes from the meat slowly electrocuting in the pan.
- “He was up on a trail in the mountain the other day, the most bumpy yet beautiful scenery he's seen, according to him…”
She paused and looked down.
- “And… ?” He enquired further..
- “Well.. A squirrel crossed his path, in order not to kill it my brother had to dive sideways and ended up rolling down the mountain's edge. He hit a tree, slamming leg first in to a huge trunk.”
- “Is his leg all that is injured?” He asked, clearly concerned, although at the time the cooking meat worried him more.
- “Well.. Yeah, but it did ruin his whole summer… I mean..”
He pulled out his cigarette packet and offered her one. She graciously accepted and stood up with him.. “Well it could be worse..” he smiled at her and followed her out onto the balcony, switching off the now charred meat.
The table still looked oddly out of place. It matched none of the decoration concepts applied to the balcony, didn't go with the lounging chairs, and served no practical purpose. Why the hell is the table there? She sat on it.. Oh well, maybe there is some use to it.
“You got a lighter?” she asked, anxious to get her nicotine.
He fumbled inside his pockets. Here again was the Zippo, reminding him of where he'd be the following year. He lit her smoke.
“Do you know what that means?” - What the hell is she on about?
“What does what mean?” She chuckled.
“Lighting the cigarette for me; It means I own you seven years of good sex” A smile touched her eyes.
“Oh, do you now? When do I get to charge?”
“You don't”
He looked straight into her eyes, making a weak attempt of keeping the confusion out of his face. He grabbed the ashtray and brought it closer, distracting himself from her. It was an interesting ashtray, if you could call it that. In fact it was actually a plastic glass he had “obtained” a fortnight ago, while enjoying a glass of juice; A better use had come of it now. He looked up at her again – Gorgeous, Sir - She was wearing a long, black skirt supporting a dark blue star pattern across the right side. It complimented her blue shirt, which was held up by many straps across the back. The straps had crumpled a little, revealing more of her cleavage . In the dimmed lights it gave her a rather mysterious aura.
Miss Messias was a 19 year old female, but she was a woman under all aspects. She had finished high-school and started to pursue a career in the Drama world, one in which she was quite a success. Having written, published and acted three plays of her own she had earned herself a considerable reputation, as well as participating in charity acts and having turned down the most popular Portuguese TV soap, something which caused a considerable turmoil for the tabloids' world. Her relationship's history was long and sad, but somehow she always managed to keep it all below the surface. She even had, once, attempted a relationship with Gusty, which hadn't worked out due to time restraints. They now shared a deep friendship, although the attraction never quite went away.
She gave up her seat on the table and came to sit besides him, leaning on his shoulder.
——————————————- ~ ~ ~ ——————————————-
She woke him up, softly, gently. Before actually opening his eyes, he chose to analyse the situation, inwardly. What is that smell? - He could still feel her perfume. She was sitting at the edge of his bed, her hand idly brushing his chest, but it was the sound of her voice which had woken him. They were in his room, the sun filtering through the blue curtains, bathing the floor in its golden light, rendering different tones of orange across it. It made the garments which he had been wearing all the more obvious in the middle of the floor; She was fully dressed.
“I have to go…” she sighed “Wake up already, you sleepy bastard.”
“I usually greet people by saying 'good morning'” she clutched her hand on his arm, startled “but I guess I'm the unusual one around here.”
“Don't you go judgi…” he put a finger to her lips.
“Please, you already woke me up by calling me a bastard, let us share a cup of coffee before you find the right word to rouse me out of bed”
“Idiot.” she said, smiling.
He got up, and stared dully at the boxer shorts he was wearing. God I hate these; He chuckled at his thought. The boxers were the result of an LSD trip his girlfriend had had. Purple boxers, patterned with wavy yellow lines and pink, flying hippos. The hippopotamuses came in all shapes and forms, one carrying a cupid's bow, another a judge's hammer, a different one would carry a fishing rod, and others, carrying unlikely items such as flowers, DVD players, guitars, to the extreme point of a flying hippo carrying a non-flying one. These boxer shorts used to be the evening's entertainment whenever someone was not quite in their most righteous mind.
Making his way to the kitchen, without waiting for her, his mind was racing forwards, planning his day. Make coffee, taste the coffee, serve the coffee, … my thoughts are ridiculously slow this morning… see her out, call Mary, and then… He turned on the coffee machine; It started rumbling, begging for more water and a fresh supply of coffee grains. He granted it's request. He knew that soon enough the smell of freshly grounded coffee would fill his kitchen and they'd go on the balcony, sip coffee and enjoy a smoke.
“Coffee Ready?” She interrupted his thoughts.
“Anxious, are you now?”
“Can't say I got that much sleep…”
“Woke up with your own snoring?” he asked, jokingly.
“No… it's more you who sounds like a bear”
He looked away from the coffee machine at this point, and at her, wondering if he had a reason to apologize or if, as usual, she was just messing with him.
“Errr… I'm sorry I guess?” he blushed. He was perfectly aware he snored loudly, it ran in the family. “Just be happy I'm unlike my brother, he talks in his sleep.”
“Oh, really?? What does he say?”
“Usually he just mutters. Once he asked one of his friends for his math notebook.” She laughed heartily.
The coffee machine stole their attention, again. A red light was flashing. He took the two mugs and made his way to the balcony, setting them down on the floor, denying the odd table any use. Just the faintest glimmer of the ocean's pale blue was visible from his balcony. In companionable silence, they enjoyed their drinks.
“I really have to go…”
“Where to?” he asked, unconcerned.
“Driving lesson, but I really enjoyed the time we..” he interrupted
“Your welcome. Don't be a stranger.”
If someone can smile inwardly, she definitely did. She then left.
He went to his living room, turning the TV on so he'd have some noise in the house. He couldn't stand the silence of being on his own. He picked up the phone and dialled the number by heart.
“Hello?”
“Hey honey!” he sounded cheerful.
“How are you baby?” so did she.
“I'm good, just went for coffee with a friend, you?”
“Nothing special, watched a movie with Michael last night.”
What they would much later find out is that it wasn't just a friend, nor a movie. Mary and him had been dating for almost two years already. The relationship was quite serious, but not too long ago they had needed a break from each other as they were no longer being able to settle their disputes reasonably. She had then come with him to the holiday house, spent an amazing time, and returned home; He rapidly recovered his previous philosophy of relationships, meaning that if they were on a break then things didn't really matter.
“Yeah? Nice movie?” he asked, genuinely interested.
“Crap. As I've always told you, he really doesn't know what to watch”
“Ah well. As long as you had fun.”
“We did” She paused, “ laughed a lot.”
“What about?”
“Oh, just random stuff.”
They fell silent. The silence stretched.
“I miss you.” he said.
“I love you more than anything.” she answered.
“…”
“I've gotta go honey, return the movie.”
“Sure thing, I'll catch you later.”
“I'll email you tonight.”
“Ok, bye, I love you.” He put the phone down.
She'll email me tonight… He knew better than to get his hopes up. He knew just how much trouble she had keeping to her plans; Always something she hadn't predicted, always something new that happened, never enough time for everything. Seemed to be a slogan in her life, but whether it was because she really was a busy person or because she mismanaged her time he had not yet been able to figure out. So… what now? Unlike her, he had no trouble managing his time. During his summer he did his best to have as little responsibilities as possible, rather doing things in advance than having to worry over them during his holidays; Therefore, when it came to time management, he had all the time he could ever want on his hands, as he had no plans whatsoever.
His computer beeped. He recognized it as the chat's alarm for a new chatter starting a conversation. He got up from where he had been on the phone, to make his way to his computer which was comfortably lying on the sofa when it started beeping alarmingly fast. What the heck is going on…?
“Hey dude, you there? I really need to talk to you. Everything is completely messed up, I can barely hold it in anymore! You there?! Mom's gone crazy again, Dad ain't doing a thing about it, sis ain't even talking to me, I really have no clue what to do anymore! Usually I'd think it all through, but they even hold that against me!”
It was a wall of text. It was Gusty.
“Hey, hey.”
“Oh thank God!”
“Calm down gus, what the hell is up?”
“Well the usual ever since we moved here I guess, but I just couldn't hold it in anymore!”
“Hum.. what's the usual? You haven't updated me on that in a long time, although I always ask how's family…”
“Never mind it, I have to go anyway. But it did feel good to just let it all out.” He was puzzled. It was very unlike his best friend to act like this. Gusty went on, “You been hanging out with Gil lately?”
“Not really, I don't have his contacts…do you by any chance?”
“Yeah, +351 96 435 45 89”
“Oh cool, thanks!”
“Ok, I'll talk to you some other day. Massive bear hugs mate!” Gusty went offline.
This is turning out to be one hell of a strange day…He thought of calling Gil, but discarded the idea for the time being. I'll just go to the beach, call him later. He had been working out for the past month and knew he looked rather good. It felt satisfying to go to the beach and be the victim of not-so-discreet looks.
——————————————- ~ ~ ~ ——————————————-
Sunset. The horizon is closer today… Once again on the balcony, he was staring at the small stretch of visible sea with that look of purpose and hope which defined him so well. This time, on the table lay an empty pack of smokes; The table now seemed to serve as a temporary litter can. There was a very simple reason for all this hoping, all this thinking, all this dreaming. Not so many years ago he had been completely broken hearted and lost, and it was then that he had started thinking so much of what path he'd want to follow in life, and started paving his own way. This had become a self-sustained exercise, a constant personal analysis, of why he did something, of what he wanted to do. Now, it was no different. I feel like going crazy tonight, I wish to fly. It's been a while.
He took his phone out. Gil… He found his friend's number.
“Guess who?” he cheerfully greeted.
“Who?!” Gil was clueless as to the identity of the speaker.
Making his best mysterious tone, he asked:“Don't recognize me, do you?”. He had left his phone number as anonymous on purpose.
“Errr…Jõao?”
“I'm someone you don't see during the whole year…”
“NO! Are you kidding me?!” he heard someone laughing on the other end of the line - “When did you get here??”
“I am absolutely not kidding you at all!” he said, happy with the warm welcome. “What are you up to?”
“Not all that much really,” Gil admitted, “just watching TV.”
“Wanna have a drink sometime soon?”
“How about now?” Gil instantly shot back.
Taken aback he replied, “Err.. sure!”, pleasantly surprised.
“I'll be there in 10 minutes, my car is running again.” Gil sounded excited.
Stricken, he was now fairly clueless of what to do while he waited. He started thinking of all he had heard about Gil since the last time they had met. From dating a forty year old divorced with two children college woman to getting his driving license, succeeding in his first year of college studying performance arts, reaching the final cast of a singing contest, getting a friend with benefits and tremendously enjoying life, Gil had changed a lot. When they had first met, Gil had been a great person, a good friend and someone you could enjoy a pleasant night with. According to Gusty, Gil was now the brother type of person, someone absolutely amazing who you could spend an entire week with and not get bored. Perhaps bored but in a non-boring way due to the company.
He went into the kitchen and turned on his radio, in an attempt to kill the silence and pump his body with energy. He sat down on one of the chairs. The kitchen was fairly simple; No impressive adornments except that it was mainly made out of marble and dark mahogany wood, giving it a rather simple, but expensive, clean look. There were four chairs, including the one he was sitting on, huddled around the table where he usually ate his fast meals; His lunch dishes were still laying there. I should probably clean these up before he comes… The door rang. Too late now, who cares – He was quite excited with his friend's arrival.
He picked up the door phone.
“Good evening?”
“Sir, I have Mr. Gil here for you, should I..”
“Let him in!” he cut the doorman's speech, mid-sentence.
“He's by car sir.”
“So? Let him in, he knows where to park.”
This was not true; Gil would probably have no clue in which space to park, but he didn't really care about such small details that could be fixed later. He went back to the kitchen and took two small, squared whisky glasses. Reaching for his small bar, he grabbed a Pisang bottle and took the orange juice out of the bar. Gusty had showed them this mixture few years back, and now they occasionally mellowed on it. Spinning the bottles, he poured two glasses of it. Just as he was rotating them back to their original place he heard a knocking on the door. He opened it.
“D!” That's how his close friends called him.
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:)
Any Thoughts?
Also, many thanks to ToF for reviewing and making suggestions and being basically a good friend
~RM