Jamie
I have been at shore for about 2 hours. Patrick and I got out of the water as late as tree pm, it's now past five and I am in a comatose at the back of the car, almost past out with exhaustion. We had an early dinner (I paid the damn bill...) after surfing and after that I became so drowsy I was about to pass out right then and there. So Godfray and Patrick got me out in car some huge silver truck-like thing Godfray had rented, they were sitting on the front seats talking quietly. My head hits the seatbelt and everything goes black.
When I wake up again the car it's cold and the sun has gone down. The world is pale blue colour. They have just left me here to fend for myself? God they could have woken me up!
I sit up, my body feel broken after sleeping in the car, yet I feel refreshed. I see a note on the seat next to me. I pick it up
Remember to lock after you. Keys at your feet.
I look down and surely enough there it is. I take it and open the door. I take my time to stretch my sore limb each at a time, rebooting my circulation.
When I am all unfolded I smack the door shut, click the loch button and begin to trot up the stairs to the flat with heave steps, it's on the fucking 5th floor and the trainer - or senpai, whatever - had forbidden us to use the elevator. I am about to go past Skye's flat, but I stop as I remember what Patrick told me out on the water. The break up sex loop... Wonder if? No, it's ridiculous. I take out my phone from my pocket. And click it.
09.16 pm
Okay, so it isn't that late. I play with the thought of going in Skye's flat - I should say Jorge, Evelyn and Skye's flat but whatever. Would she be there? Would she be alone? Would it work? NO, of course it wouldn't. It's stupid. I shake my head at my own ill-advised curiosity and start forward towards the door of my own shared flat. But I can't help but wonder just IF it would work, if she would go along with it. It's not like Skye isn't one to take chances and get lost in a moment of young naivety. My own curiosity gets the better of me and the fact that images from last Skye and I fucked, definitely didn't help. Screw it. I turn on my feet changing directions in the splits of a second. I go to their door, opening it slowly. Then I realise that's even more suspicious and swing the door open casually stepping in, as if I am invited. There is no one in the kitchen, but I hear a faint clatter in what must be the living room. The TV is on and I hear a masculine and feminine voice talking. I stand still listening, trying to make out whom. If Skye is in the living room with the others I might as well leave. I need her alone. Otherwise it would never work.
No it would never work... Why am I doing this? God, I shouldn't let Patrick get in my head like that, with all his 'bro code - how I met your mother' - nonsense. I dwell in a pit of indecisiveness, shifting for one foot to the other in their little surprisingly clean kitchen. Stainless steel, white cabinets, the simple black table and chairs with geometric patterned pillow neatly ordered. 'Okay, Jamie you moron', I tell myself, 'it comes down to this: should your cock win or your dignity?' This decision honestly is harder than one should think. Unable to make the decision whether to go charging into Skye's room, testing Patricks theory or if I should just go to bed and sleep of this insanity, I just stand there almost asking to be caught.
"Jamie?" A hoarse groggy voice mutter behind be, I whirl around faced with a tied-eyed Skye, rubbing her red eyes in disbelieve. She looks as if she had been crying hard, "what are you doing out here?" she asks.
"Aaahhhh..." is my intelligent answer.
She huffs at me - seemingly suddenly uninterested - and walk past me over to the kettle, she clicks the button on top coursing the kettle to start boiling slowly. Then she in quick precise movements places a cup on the table, goes to another cupboard with tea sorts in it, picks some tea I didn't catch the name of and lowers a teabag into her cup, making sure the end hangs on the edge of the cup.
"Can you pour me one?" I ask without really knowing why. Was I gonna sit down have cup tea with her? Not exactly what I had planned, but... there you go, I reckon. Without a word she reaches up to open the cupboard, placing another cup firmly on the table. Then she taps the cupboard where she found the tea sorts indicating for me to pick myself.
I start forward walking up next to her; she quickly moves to do other things. I hear the clatter of pots as I stare into the mountain of teas. I take my time picking something I have never in my life heard of, feeling dare-y.
I lean my hip on the kitchen counter facing Skye, who has already sat a pot of water to boil. We stand there in utter silence. No yelling or shouting as I would have thought, no nothing, just plain looking. We just bloody stand there, across from each other like fucking roman statues. Like we're in our own little bobble of absolutely nothing, sort of like we're waiting for something, anything to kick start a hurricane of... something. Shouting, crying, snogging who knew? All can do is wait for it!
I take the opportunity to look her up and down, she is wearing a pink flowered long pyjama bottoms and a white tank top with a loose baby blue shirt over it. Her hair is sort of just a stack on top of her head. Her eyes are red rimmed and not a shred of makeup taints her face. She looks horrible, tired, groggy, sad and the look she giving me doesn't help. The sadness shining in her eyes almost an actual physical touch on my body, seeping it's way under my skin. I am still in my flip-flops and long swim trunks, only a dark blue sleeveless shirt over, it is rather cold actually. Her hands are crossed in front of her chest and she looking at me with that intense sad look. She doesn't glare or stare, she just looks. Almost sort of observing me, like I was a rare thing to me found.
I hear the dim scratching sounds of the telly and the mutter of voices oozing from the living room. The kettle starts shaking and burbling more and more. The water on the stove far behind still silent and plain.
I have this odd tension in the pit of my stomach, the way she is looking at me, as if she isn't even expecting me to leave or say anything. Like she knows there isn't anything I can say. What we did to each other, it was unfair and mean. We had both acted on instincts we didn't understand at the time. We had both made the exact same mistake. We had doubted the other ones love. And the doubt itself was like poison to the other, unconsciously confirming their fears. Even when we tried to talk about it, it always ended in primal tangle of limbs, either one way or the other.
I suppose on some level you can say I had acted out of love even, not being able to handle the fear of her not loving me, which after all hadn't been misplaced. She had never told me so, I just thought she had. But she had just kissed me, shown me her unfathomable desire. We kept acting like kids, very grown ones, but kids, children none the less. And her being unable to express herself, she had gone to another, who didn't require the same upkeep, if you can say so. It hurt to think about, it hurt to think that she could love somebody else. It was selfish to thinks so, but the truth.
But the odd sensation in the pit of my stomach remain, spreading into the room creating tension. Like we were both magnets with constantly switching poles. Pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling away from each other. But we both knew if we got to close, there would only be pulling and a lot of it. Positive and negative pulling at each other.
The next I know, things are happening very quickly. The tension exploding. Skye jerks up from her leaning position against the big window facing the street outside, mumbling "fuck it," under her breath. And before I even get to blink her lips are pressed to mine eagerly. She wavers against me standing up her very tiptoes to reach me, I crane down almost instinctively wrapping my arms around her small frame. Relaxing and relishing in her body shaped against mine. Her hands wrap themselves in my hair, drawing me to her. I tumble backwards towards the door behind me, kissing her as if in a frenzy. We walk through a narrow unlit hallway, the blood in my ears boiling, tuning out all other sounds. I feel the press of door behind me opening and suddenly I am slumped on my back in a big double bed. Skye is sitting atop me, a leg on each side of my chest. The room is dimly lit, a yellow light flickering softly against my eyelids, but it's not sunlight. A candle is lit on the bedside table. The only light in the room. I know the bed is made of painted white wood, the sheets a silvery grey, a small table on each side of the bed. A heavy dresser across in the same white painted wood. A floor lamp occupies the left hand corner, being a screen a bright shade of pink. I know this from my previous late night visits to this very room. I know nothing of the room's cleanliness
I push up from under her rolling her over, and I hear the sound of paper crackles under us. In surprise I open my eyes breaking shortly from Skye's lips, wanting only to remove the obstacle, but halt. Staring at what I've found.
"Jamie, what is it?" Skye mutters in a hushed voice.
I am staring stunned at a stack of drawings of myself, pictures I have never in my life seen. Skye moves away as if wanting to see what my fascination is, and as soon as she realises she frails around pushing all of the pictures over the side of the bed, out of my sight.
"You weren't supposed to see those..." she mumbles as her cheeks turns crimson.
"Uhm..."
"I am sorry," she mumbles, not looking me in the eyes. is she ashamed?
My head snap back at her, "for what?" I ask in confusion.
"for creep drawing you," she says, still looking down.
"How'd you creep draw me?" I ask even more confused. Suddenly she pushes at my shoulders and I move away from her, the moment gone. The frenzy gone. "Skye, what's wrong?" I ask as she get's up turning her back on me
"you were not supposed to see those." She mumbles more harshly this time, sounding upset. She hunch down picking up the papers.
"It's okay, those are good drawings," I tell her, wanting her to calm down.
"But you weren't supposed to see them," she repeats.
"Skye sit down would you? You're starting to scare," her movements are frantic, her hands going to her cheeks, before turning back to scrambling on the ground as she collects the drawings. She doesn't answer.
"Skye please sit." I say almost in whisper. Her movements become ever more panicky, her breathing coming out in hard pants. I stretch across the bed trying to catch her arm, "Skye,-"
"No, Jamie, don't!" she exclaim in a hard hurt voice, jerking away from me. The very movement hurt. I took my arms back, "you don't have to do that," tears now appearing in her lethargic eyes.
"Do what? What are you taking about?" I ask desperately, getting up from the bed to aide her.
"No! Jamie, just stay there!" she says harshly pointing at me with her finger as if she wants to make my stay by use of 'the force', "I don't want you seeing them!" her voice is high pitched and coming out in sobs. What coursed this reaction? I don't...
"Skye, calm down... I won't look... just..." I go steadily towards her as if approaching a scared animal. She shrinks back against the eggshell coloured wall behind her burying her face in her hands.
"It's so stupid, it's so stupid, it's so stupid..." she keeps mumbling, and I seriously consider the possibility that she has gone mad. Again, what happened? What could make a person crumble like that over some blasted drawings?!
"Skye..." I say softly, "look at me.." I place my hand on her knee, "Skye, please look at me." Now it's me who is sounding desperate... just fan-fucking-tastic.
"I can't." her voice is muffled.
"Of course you can.." I encourage her in a soft voice. Slowly she takes hold of my collar, her head still down. I sit down encircling her in my arms, pulling her against my chest where she rests her head.
I kiss the top of her head, "Skye, please tell me what's going on," I whisper, her warm body snugged against mine. Her shoulders are shaking as she cries into my shirt.
"Skye, what's,-" as if on queue her stomach suddenly decides to imitate the sound of a dying wale. there is a halt in her crying as she listens to the sound of her growling belly.
"how long has it been since you last ate?" I ask, that was one hungry growl. She didn't answer. And I suddenly found a way to help her stop crying. It was very simple. Food.
"Come on. Get up." I command, trying to tug her to her feet with me. She sighs and groans.
"Jamie I'm fine.."she growls, her voice so hoards it almost sound broken. The growl of her stomach had seemingly shooked her crying out of her and the tears had stopped streaming.
"No, you're hungry. Get up. we're gonna get you food."
"Just leave, okay... you shouldn't see me like this.." she tries to push me away, but her effort is too weak. If she had wanted to push me away she would have.
"That's not for you to decide and if anything the harm is already done," I say and she growls at me, but her eyes are still glassy and red. The sadness still present in the air around her. I guide her hand in mine to the kitchen where I find a minor chaos. The water in the pot Skye put on the stove, had boiled over, spilling water all around it. I let go of Skye's hand and rushed to take that water off the stove.
"Forgot about that.." Skye mumbles as she stands back watching me work. I soon got it all cleaned and shining again, and I begin cooking. Behind me I hear the shuffle of chairs and I look back to find Skye sitting at the kitchen table watching me with slight apprehension, like she didn't believe I was really there.
We didn't talk as I worked. I put some new water in the pot and soon pasta was cooking it way to deliciousness. Then I found a can of diced tomatoes which I heated in another smaller pot with finely shopped garlic and onions, then I add mysterious seasoning to my sauce, before pouring it over the pasta and placing it in front of Skye accompanied by a tall glass of water demanding her to eat.
She digs into it my simple pasta dish eagerly, chewing and swallowing at a lightning's pace. I sit down opposite her, watching her go. I don't say anything since I'll afraid she'll choke on the food trying to answer. after 10 minutes she sits back in the chair her eyes closed her hands entwined a top her stomach. She almost purrs with delight.
"Better?" I ask, she nods her eyes still closed. I have forgotten what she has done to me, and she seems to have forgotten what I have done to her. Forgot that we both should be boiling mad at each other, just because right now she seemed to need me and that was more than enough to make me forget my own selfish ways. And I estimate there are two kinds of friendships. The first one where you hold grudges, never giving in and are eternally destined to be mad at each other in some way or another. The other kind where sensing you're friend in the need of help or simply watching them accidentally hit themselves in the head with a banana is enough to make you forgive and forget even the spikiest of quarrels. Skye and I are even, we both fucked up now we had to try and pick up the ragged pieces of our own and maybe -just maybe - the others heart. If we dared.
"Skye, what's going on with you?" I ask and she opens her eyes glancing gloomily at me.
"Sleep deprivation, mashed with starvation and dehydration and general emotional instability isn't a great mix," she answers. I raise my eyebrow at her and she sighs heavily, "I don't know... I just lost it... those drawings are very private." She explains vaguely.
"they're just of me.." I state in wonder.
"they're memories," she tells me as if it's some big secret. I watch her, waiting for her to explain. She doesn't. She just gets up, putting her dishes in the dishwasher, before turning away, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
After a minute she reappears in the doorway.
"You coming?" she asks.
"What?" I croak in wonder.
"We don't need to have sex, we can just watch a movie or something?" she says innocently. In amazed silence of her request I follow her into her room. What's she up to?
She scrambles onto the bed where she flips in her laptop, I stand in the doorway, observing her odd behaviour. Suddenly she notices and stops her fumbling to look up at me, "you don't need to be here if you don't want to," she says in calm voice, so different from the voice before, "if you still hate me it's okay. I'll just see you at work tomorrow alright?" a sad smile shapes her face.
I cross the floor and sit down next to her. I don't hate her. I probably should. But I don't. After all she should probably also hate me. But she didn't seem to anymore. Some people need some grand gesture to make sure the other one really loves them, the movies told us we need it. That we should base our love of that grand gesture, if it's standing outside their window with a boombox declaring our eternal love for them or if it's letting them take the floating door in the sea of ice, it was all the same. But what the movies tell us is a lie. A plain lie. In reality all we needed was to find each other again over a movie in bed.
Soon Skye and I sit shoulder to shoulder watching the girly 80'ties movie 'dirty dancing'. I don't mind, Skye snuggles closer to me and I wrap my arm around her for some reason feeling more content with her in my arms than I have done in week. As Baby comes to Johnny's cottage and they start dancing sensually to 'cry to me', I kiss Skye. A real kiss. Not hungry and filled with lust and desperation. No teeth or biting, just my lips pressed tenderly against hers. The arm that isn't locked at her side glides though the messy side of my hair. We kiss like that for a while, as if discovering each other again. In one smooth movement she gets up to sit astride me. Softly we remove each other's clothes, leaving only my boxers and her small panties on. We don't go any further. We don't have sex or make silly promises of eternal love. We just kiss, and caress each other's bodies with soft movement. Kissing jaws, chests, breasts, stomachs, noses, shins thighs, relishing in the feeling of skin against skin and the closeness of knowing that right now, there is nothing wrong with being a little young and naïve.
We fall asleep in each other's arms as we have done so many a time before, inhaling the others sweet scent.
The next day I am woken up to the sound of my own ringtone, I open my arms to find the room dark, the curtains still drawn, Skye spread out next to me, her one breast unshielded by the sheets. I smile and get my jeans where my phone is ringing. I hear Skye begin to stir, grunting into the pillow as she turns over.
I take the call, seeing it's my mom. She never calls this early, she knows the time difference, so must have to be important.
"Hey mom," I say in a husked voice.
"Jamie?" my mom voice is strained, like she has been crying. Instantly I know somethings wrong.
"Mom, what's wrong? Has something happened?" I ask, my heart starting to pound in fear in my chest. Had dad heart given out? No he's still young! Can't be.
My mom lets out a whimpering cry before she says, "It's Sam. He's been in an accident."