Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Exit. Chapter 5

But that is only in my mind.

There is no bond like that. There are just several nods from me no love advice coming from me as I never speak up as my nose is usually buried in a book, music blasting in my ears. I have never really cared about dating, but that would be a turn inside my soul and my devotion to Jonny who would pin me against the bed, harassing me the way I wish, something I wouldn’t really to be comfortable with telling, allowed to be blackmailed with it. I can see us chatting in my head, but there is nothing like that in the head. Nothing like that, I never participate, yet they seem to follow me even if I mute them and stare at their noiseless moving lips as I hear different artists yell lyrics into my ears.

In reality Marcie liked pop music and I disliked the chick flicks she enjoyed. Evan’s music taste was simply horrid as I had to yank the headphones off when he suggested me his. I wanted to curl into a ball and tell myself that only Radiohead existed and that I could surf the world alone with all the inhabitants dead with the news I should listen to. I shook my head, easing the wound by listening to something out of my daily playlist made special for awkward situations. He blinked, a hurt note in his voice as he flicked through my player seeing nothing that caught his eye.

I blind out their ‘Molko looks weird in Velvet Goldmine. I like their new album, though’, ‘head on the door? Is that the one with Just Like Heaven?’, ‘his solo isn’t as good’ because sometimes it hurts. But then it was too good to be true. That’s why I mute the world making it talk about what I want there is no Beyonce, no new Spears wannabes and endless scandals.

Everything… would be calm.

End of playlist.

I raised my eyes to see Evan waving a book in his hand.

“It’s really cool, Marcie. My girlfriend called me insane, but hell, can you imagine it if it was real?”

I clicked on pause and all of a sudden it felt as I was going into their personal territory, feeling guilty, as if I was stealing something, some information which I wasn’t supposed to hear. I guess I was interested in what book it could be, as I was finishing Lolita for whatever reason I chose to pick it up.

“It’s like a person has this door, waiting to be opened at a certain part of their lives and inside you see your ideal world, everything how you imagine it. Like heaven on earth, just one door, hidden in the world only to be opened by a person who it belongs to, who created it with its mind by birth. Isn’t that amazing? If I could find it I’d have my own island and girls in bikinis everywhere!” He stretched out everywhere making it sound cheesier and filled with girls in bikinis, as if they couldn’t conquer the island. It felt as if he were 14.

“Like an exit from reality? What are you high? Or rather is the author high? Though, sounds nice only guys for me and not in bikinis.” But I let Marcie speak with Evan, as I shifted towards the wall.

I pressed on play.


My eyes are wide and I can’t inhale, as I am paralyzed. He thinks I don’t hear him, he stretches his fingers on the right hand thinking to pull a headphone and plant a kiss upon my cheek. Instead he says it louder, blaming the loud music coming from my headphones. Graham smiles and says it once more that I had been expecting the class to turn their heads, jump on the tables and sing some song about love and dance around as he twirls me.

Instead they remain entertained by the ongoing break and nothing, while I press pause and take off my headphones, my heart, soul, brain so that I’d be standing naked before reality kisses me upon the lips. My first lesbian kiss with myself.

“Hi.” I try to smile and a smile comes out, without any force as I feel my eyes scanning his face. How his specs are held firmly on the bridge of his nose unless when he laughs and tilts his head down and they slip slowly and he pushes them up with his index finger or how his hair touches his brows if you hold it straight instead of some of them sticking in the air chaotically, while some even reach his eyes.


Hazel with that intense red tint escaping the problem of buying red contacts if he chooses some red eyed zombie, vampire or red eyed talking corn who escaped under the bed when you were seven and threw Barbies under the bed thinking that it would feed on them instead of your own flesh and warm blood.

“You’re Roberta, right?” I nod. His name is Graham. Right?

In my head. In my head. In my head.

Apparently my mouth either forgot that or didn’t know.

“Graham, right?” My idiotic mouth still holds the smile and my face holds a ‘yes you are, don’t lie to me’ expression. He laughs, tilting his head in the process, pushing his glasses up with his left index finger, hair falling on his now closed eyes as reopens them with a last light laugh coming from his lips.

“No. Not like Coxon, sadly. He’s even better looking than me and apparently, as the media thinks a better guitarist unlike me who held a guitar…” He unfolds his hand putting three fingers in the air, smirking. “Three or so times. God, I suck at guitar.”

Then he pauses, still smiling at my given name. So he’s not Graham and he looks like a Graham to me, not like he actually has something similar to Coxon, he just… looked like a Graham to me and I liked the name Graham. I want to pull my legs to my chest and rest my chin against them. I do it in my mind, as Jonny runs a hand through my hair, easing me and telling me to calm down. I can still call him Graham in my head, if I won’t like his name or anything.

“I’m Leslie, Roberta.” He smiles. But then he puts his hands in the air, shaking several steaks back, revealing his eyes. “Nice to meet you. But you can call me Graham, if you want to. Feels weird, but if you like it. Yeah, Leslie’s kind of creepy, but I was born with it so might as well try to hold onto it until I’ll gag of annoyance and wonder if my parents were high.” The high comment is added by Jonny, as he smirks, pulling Leslie by his nose and hurling him against a wall, as the second hand travels from my neck to my back.

“No, no. Sorry. Just thought. I mean, I mixed up and- and- and-” I can’t think of anything to say as he looks at me with interest, now pressing a pencil against his bottom lip. That’s why I hate reality when you blush mechanically, without getting confirmed by the script in your head and in your mind you can rub off the freaky, cheesy or plain boring bits, while in life you can’t.

“Yeah, nice to meet you…” I stop, feeling his name on my tongue like a mint sweet, something I don’t really like, but feels nice. I take it out, swallowing it as well in the process. “…Leslie.”

Chapter 6

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