Between Two Worlds... A Hobo and I

CHAPTER 1

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CHAPTER 1 

I have come to realise that I was born with the kind of bad luck that follows one around like a bad smell. At 7:30, I find myself behind a mannequin hiding from an existence that has become a pain in every grain of my being. I watch him as he strums away at his guitar with his long hair swaying back and forth at the feel of his music.

I would think he was good if he hadn't made the last two weeks of my life hell. His name is Geoffrey Miller and he literally fell out of nowhere...

It was a very odd Saturday 2 weeks ago. It started with the usual screams of my mother's lack of appreciation at my attempt in drying the sink then it went on to the horrific encounter with Geoffrey. (A bit of an exaggeration but being the kind of girl I am, well... it was horrific).

"Why can't you learn to do these things right?" mum had questioned grabbing the sponge by the sink and magically wiping away the little stains of water that had stubbornly refused to sink into the sponge.

Mum has been trying to teach me the art of drying the sink FOR YEARS but her lessons have always gone to waste. No matter how hard I try to do it the way she likes, it turns out worse than my ability can carry.

"Get dressed..." she said as I endeavoured to tiptoe out of the kitchen. You wouldn't believe how worked up she gets over the state of the sink so the best thing I could do was disappear. Once her words sank in, I stopped in my tracks and turned.

"Do we have guests coming over?" I asked, hoping her answer would be a resounding no since we both hate visitors.

"No... we're going to get you a handbag." She replied. Her back was still facing me and I could tell by the movements of her hands that she was still working hard at the sink. I didn't bother to argue since we had been going on and on about the importance and non-importance of having a handbag as a sixth form student for a little over a month. She was obviously for the idea and I, was against it.

The last thing I wanted was to get my right arm paralysed by the pain of carrying a hand bag full of books but mum's argument was that I would look like a complete fool if I walked in with a backpack. 'And besides,' She had concluded 'back packs are for toddlers'

Never in the history of my existence have I won a quarrel with my mother. It's like she was built for verbal arguments and it wasn't only me who fell victim to her winning ways. So I didn't bother to argue and in a matter of minutes I was dressed ready to go out in order to face my right hand's doom.

11:36 found us outside the mall and as soon as I stepped into the jungle of shoppers, my very first introduction to the specie they call Geoffrey happened.

The mood of the place was different. Live music had never been played and certainly not the kind alien to radio stations these days. The guitar strumming was audible but what grabbed my attention was the beautiful voice that went with it.

Now, I am not a curious person but I found my feet dragging me to this new sensation that had picked our mall to please. There he was surrounded by a pleased crowd but he was so tall that I could see his shoulders over the heads of the crowd. His hair was long (still is) and his beard needed a good shave plus he looked like he hadn't slept in months with the dark circles that surrounded his sunken eyes. But he played well for a walking corpse and the crowd loved every minute of it....

"Wow Frank Sinatra." mum said. She sounded dazed and when I looked at her, her attention was where mine was a couple of seconds earlier.

"Uh." I uttered in confusion.

Mum came back to her senses and replied "He is playing Frank Sinatra... wow... strangers in the night."

Suddenly, she started walking through the crowd as if she was in a trance. I followed behind her quickly apologising to the people she was bumping into and stopped when she did by a handbag stall. The crowd was so big that it covered some of the shop's entrances. Where we stood, I could see through new look's glass doors however, the huge entrance that normally welcomed us was not visible.

"Rach..." An annoyingly familiar voice calls breaking through my reminisce. I hate that damn nickname and what had gotten into my mother that day giving out my name to this hobo. "I can see you... you've never been the best at hiding." His voice is deep and I would find it easy on the ears if it wasn't coming from him.

Acting as if what I was doing a few seconds ago is considerably normal, I step out from my hiding spot with my head held high and start to walk the direction of Geoffrey Miller. He has a spot close to the entrance of the shopping mall now where he sets up his 'stuff' and like many singers on the roads, has his guitar case laid out for money to be dropped in.

*what's it gonna be coz I can't explain...*

And the torture begins. The singing hobo jumps in front of me with his guitar and begins to torture me with his rendition of don't let go by En Vogue. I try to step aside but because he has been doing this for the past two weeks, he knows all the moves I use to try to get away from him.

*don't you wanna be more than friends*

I try to smile and look around to see if we have collected a crowd like we normally do but it seems we haven't today.

To my shock, I found out that people love stupid things like this... boy sings to girl, girl blushes... and it seems Geoffrey has it in for me because he refuses to let go of the torture. He must be thrilled since his cheesy tactics squeeze money out of people.

*hold me tight and don't let go*

He must have a microphone connected to his vocals because his singing is loud and effortless. Dammit he's a star and I hate my brain for admitting it.

*Don't let go*

I let out an angry chuckle as I stare at the ground unable to look him in the eye and take a double step to escape but he is quick and I end up bumping into his guitar. It doesn't faze him at all as he keeps strumming away with graceful leaps to stop me from escaping.

I finally give up and stand with balled fists defeated... if only assault was legal.