Illusions

Teenage Me thought Teenage You was cute.

You had dark brown hair, just a shade or two lighter than black. Your smile could light up a room. Your attitude… Well, it was just a typical teenage boy’s do-not-care-about-anything attitude.

“What are you looking at?” Teenage You said.

“Nothing,” Teenage Me replied. “There’s a cockroach on the wall behind you. I was waiting to see if it jumped on your back.” It was a lie. I’d been staring at you, wanting to remember every part of your face, hoping my subconscious would recall your features in my dreams that night. Unaware of my lie, you jumped, brushing invisible creepy crawlies from your shoulder. You didn’t see my face flush with embarrassment at being caught staring at you.

Eventually, the weight of my stare was too much and you didn’t talk to me at all. We both moved on. My mind drifted to my next crush, another boy I wouldn’t admit my feelings for.

It was a surprise to run into you more than twenty years later, in a shopping centre neither of us frequented. Fate was the romanticised name for it.

“Hey…?” At first, I wasn’t sure it was you. Eventually my long stored memories of your face came back asking for confirmation it was you. Yet all my mouth could muster was ‘Hey’, as if you actually had any idea who I was.

“Uh, hi?” Your face gave it away: your brain did not remember me.

“Milly,” I said, trying to jog your memory.

“Milly! Of course!” But your eyes gave you away: You couldn’t place me although your brain was clicking over all your memories. “How are you? It must have been, oh, five years! Has it been that long already?”

“You were in my Social Studies class with Mr Plummer. Do you remember him? That bald spot he always tried to hide with a terrible combover?”

You laughed. “Oh yes, I remember him! He never liked me, kept comparing me to my brothers, who were some sort of geniuses.” You laughed again.

I smiled politely, my heart beating fast. It too remembered the nights I stayed awake wondering if you liked me. “How are your brothers?”

Your smile faded. “Uh, well, um… Sam died and uh, Jesse is a human rights lawyer currently trying to get the government to remove people from Nauru.” You looked sad.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. Although I had studied your face a thousand times, I had ignored your brothers.

“Yeah, it’s been tough,” you said, and I asked no more.

“Look, it’s been really great catching up…” I started, desperately wanting to ask you to join me for coffee and lunch.

“Same,” you said. I didn’t believe you.

“Uh, I’m just heading for lunch and I’m not meeting anyone. If you’re free…”

You glanced at your Apple Watch, tapping twice and looking at the results. “You know what? I am free for lunch.” Oh, that smile!

The past twenty years melted away over that lunch. I ordered blistered cherry tomatoes on sourdough bread with feta and avocado. You ordered a latte, BLT and a cherry chocolate cake for dessert. I raised my eyebrow.

“Cake fan?”

You looked sheepish. “Yeah. I’m not supposed to eat junk, but you know… I stress eat.”

We talked about what had happened in our lives since those heady days at school. As you spoke, my eyes gazed at your face like it had so long ago. There were a few wrinkles around your eyes, smile lines showing a fun-filled life. I smiled and I’m sure you thought I was smiling at the anecdote you were telling, but it was me comparing Teenage You with this version now before me. A few grey hairs sidelined that face I remembered, giving you an air of authority and maturity.

We finished lunch, both of us too nervous to shake hands and seal that chemistry I still felt.

“Look me up on Facebook!” You called as you walked away. As if I hadn’t looked you up a dozen times already. Now, you gave me permission to actually request your social media friendship and I could stalk your secrets.

“Wait!”

You stopped, cocking your head like a dog trying to understand its master.

I bit my lip, summoning courage I felt building inside. “I’m sorry, I’m about to make this really awkward.”

You smiled. My heart skipped a beat.

“Can I kiss you?”

You did not know how to respond. Here’s this mad woman you haven’t seen for twenty years suddenly asking permission to invade your personal space. Don’t think I didn’t notice the lack of wedding ring on your finger.

Eventually you smiled. “Do you always ask?”

“Well, no.”

You leaned forward and lightly brushed my lips with yours. Everything I had ever felt for you rushed into every organ in my body. A rush of adrenalin surged through me, manifesting into my lips engaging with yours. For a second, I thought I actually felt a spark just before you pulled away.

“Teenage Me is very happy right now,” I admitted.

“What about Adult You?” You said.

“Adult Me wants more,” my lips said before I could stop them.

You didn’t speak. You grabbed my hand and pulled me along until you found an unoccupied toilet for the disabled.

I raised my eyebrows. You shrugged. It was the best solution at the time.

We were passionate, we were fast, we were quiet. Nobody was waiting outside when we finally came out, our clothes askew, our hair messy.

One last wordless kiss and we parted.

I returned home to my husband, who was slouched on the beanbag holding the game controller, his thumbs working furiously with his eyes glued to the big screen television.

“Hey,” I said cheerfully. “You’ll never guess who I ran into today. Your asshole brother says you’re dead.”

Lyric: An Original Short Story

The late afternoon sun wasn’t yet orange; instead it hung like a bright golden ball sinking ever lower in the sky. Lyric checked the clock again although barely ten minutes had passed since she had last glanced at it. Still another half hour until close with nothing much left to do. Her supervisor, Margery, was in the office busily typing up reports or short stories or updating the website. Lyric honestly didn’t care what Margery did, but she was sure Margery didn’t spend all that time in the office doing actual work. Supervising was far too important to do menial work, like replacing books to their proper shelves or stamping library cards for kids.

Lyric glanced around the library again. Old Pete was sitting in his usual spot, reading caravanning magazines that he had already read a hundred times. A young woman was browsing the teenage fiction, stationed in front of the supernatural romance genre that the library had highlighted for the month. Over at the cafe in the centre of the library, the barista Daniel waved to her as he wiped the tables for the millionth time that day. Lyric smiled and waved back. There was a lone man sitting at the cafe tables, oblivious to everything except the book in front of him. She watched as Daniel tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the clock, probably telling him the library was closing soon. The man grabbed his book, slurped the last of his iced coffee and meandered lazily towards the toy room at the very back of the library. Realising she hadn’t yet locked the toy room, Lyric grabbed the key and followed. The man was unsuccesssfully trying to coax a young girl into leaving the big foam blocks she was jumping on.

“Toys open tomorrow?” Enquired the young girl.

“Yes, baby, the toys wil be open again tomorrow. Did you want to borrow this book about trains? Or did you want the one about the yellow dinosaur?”

“RAWR!” Said the young girl. The man smiled.

“Excuse me,” interrupted Lyric. “I need to lock the toy room.” The man and the young girl watched as Lyric twisted the key into the ancient lock until the door clicked.

“Toy room open tomorrow?”

Lyric kneeled so she could look into the girl’s eyes. “It sure will be! What’s your name, princess?”

“I Melody,” said the little girl proudly, offering Lyric her book about trains.

“Hi Melody, I’m Lyric. Will you be back again tomorrow? We’ll be having a story time at ten thirty. Parents welcome,” she added, looking up at Melody’s father.

“Ethic,” said the man, smiling. “My name is Ethic.”

“Ethic is an unusual name,” Lyric commented, standing up to her full height. “And Melody… well, it seems like we’re destined to meet.” Melody let go of her father’s hand and ran off to the colouring table.

Ethic laughed. “I was brought up in a religious community,” he replied. “I have a sister named Prayer, if you can believe that. Anyway, you can’t talk. What kind of name is Lyric?”

“My father was conductor for the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, and my mother was the lead violinist. They were hoping I’d be musically inclined as well.”

“And are you?”

“Hardly. I hated playing piano, I wasn’t allowed to play the drums, I sing like a dying banshee and I’ve forgotten how to read music. I’m more of the artistic type,” Lyric explained. “Painting, mostly. Some of my artwork is hanging in the foyer.

“Well, let’s get these books borrowed.” Lyric, still holding the trains book, started walking towards the front desk, hoping Ethic was following after a detour to retrieve Melody, who was colouring a picture of Alice sitting on a mushroom opposite the Caterpillar.

“Oh. The self serve is down?”

“Um, I just switched it off,” lied Lyric. “So close to closing; I don’t think anyone else is going to be borrowing anything today.” Old Pete never borrowed the caravanning magazines, and the teenager perusing supernatural romance looked to be losing interest.

Lyric swiped each book, chatting with Ethic about favourite authors and subjects. He was interested in astronomy, but upon discovering a lack of viable career options, had settled for IT instead.

“Well,” began Lyric as she finished lending the books, “These are due back in a month, here’s your reminder slip, and of course we’ll send out a text a couple of days before they’re due.” As Ethic took his books, he deliberately brushed his hand against Lyric’s. She inhaled briskly, sure her face was blushing.

“So… You haven’t taken the hint yet, so I guess I need to ask directly. Would you like to have coffee with me?” Ethic smiled. Lyric accepted. As he left the library, Ethic made special note of the artwork hanging in the foyer, particularly the ones bearing Lyric’s name at the bottom.

Romance wasn’t on Lyric’s mind as she met Ethic for coffee several times over the next few weeks. They chatted casually about the world and their place within it. They dissected overseas political issues, raising debate about how the North Korean missile crisis should be handled. Before the conversation became too heated, they caught each others’ eyes and laughed.

“Is this how you pictured your immediate future?” Ethic asked one day.

“Well, no,” admitted Lyric. “But who ever thinks they’re going to meet someone, especially while working?”

“I wouldn’t say working at a library would be exactly challenging,” mentioned Ethic casually.

Lyric almost choked on her latte. “Pardon?”

He shrugged. “What’s there to do? Put back books, help cute guys borrow books, explain to old people how to use the computer. It just doesn’t sound like a hard job.”

“Shows what you know. Anyway, my shift starts in half an hour. I’d better get going. I have to mentally prepare for helping cute guys borrow books and explain to oldies how to use the computers.” Her words came out more bitterly than she intended, but Ethic grinned it off.

“I can’t pretend I’m doing anything in half an hour. Going back to the office and having more coffee,” he said smugly. Ethic was the team leader for cyber security and was pretty lax about the whole thing. Lyric wondered if he actually did any work or delegated everything to his team. She smiled to herself, comparing Ethic to her own supervisor Margery: neither seemed to do anything vaguely important.

Still, Lyric found herself falling for Ethic faster than she’d expected. Despite her reservations about his sense of humour, she was otherwise enchanted by him, and Melody, of course. She hadn’t seen Melody since that first day at the library; Melody lived with her mother most of the time, something which Ethic didn’t speak much about. Obviously it was a sore issue, thought Lyric.

A couple of months into their new relationship, Lyric invited Ethic and Melody shopping. “The real test of a relationship is whether someone can handle a woman’s retail therapy,” smiled Lyric as she snuggled into Ethic late one Saturday morning. Ethic laughed and kissed her forehead.

“I’m game,” he chuckled.

Lyric’s shopping centre of choice was one of the biggest in the country. Sprawling over four levels, with over a hundred stores per level, Lyric was in heaven. Melody ran from store to store, calling Ethic to watch her play with a toy or to find her while she hid behind a rack of clothes.

As Lyric paid for a set of magnetic blocks for Melody, Ethic looked on with a concerned expression. “I didn’t know a librarian earned so much,” remarked Ethic. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

Lyric’s forehead furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that, as a man, I’m supposed to earn more than a woman. Especially one is who just puts books away eight hours a day.”

“Pardon?”

Ethic shrugged. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s nothing. Let’s just enjoy our day, OK?”

Lyric felt uneasy as she browsed. Ethic refrained from further comment. As she opened her wallet to pay for an off-the-shoulder maxi dress, she felt Ethic’s eyes burning into her. She turned to see him quickly pick up a necklace, holding it up to Melody’s neck. I shouldn’t be feeling guilty for buying this dress, thought Lyric. She shook the negative thoughts from her head as she made small talk with the cashier, who gushed how great Lyric looked while wearing the dress. “Is it for a special occasion?” Winked the cashier, glancing at Ethic. Lyric smiled weakly, took the bag containing her new dress. Her eyes followed Ethic, who was already walking out the door.

“No,” Lyric replied to the cashier. “I’ve had my eye on this for ages and it’s on sale now…” She bit her lip. Ethic’s remark about her wage still stung.

“Even better! How great is it that you can grab a bargain? Especially one that complements you so well,” the cashier drawled, slipping the receipt over the desk for Lyric to take.

The rest of the shopping expedition passed without further incident. Still, the early exchange left Lyric feeling guilty. No matter her wage, she was entitled to buy whatever she wanted!

“Well, I think you did well,” conversed Lyric later that afternoon.

“Hmm?”

“You followed me into all the stores and didn’t once wait at the seats.”

“What seats?”

“You know, the seats! You often see men waiting on them when their wives are trying on shoes or something.”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” soothed Ethic, wrapping his arms around to pull her closer for a kiss.

Lyric was working when Margery broke the news. “That singer you like? He’s doing a tour and tickets are on sale next week.” Margery, obviously feeling she deserved a break after delivering good news, shut herself in the office again, leaving Lyric on the floor alone.

When Lyric searched for herself using the public computers, she found Ed Sheeran was indeed touring. Her heart gave a little flutter. The library was empty; the barista Daniel had put on some music and was dancing while cleaning the coffee machine. Lyric texted Ethic. She already knew he wasn’t a fan but maybe he’d still like to come with her to the concert.

Are you sure you can afford it? He replied.

Yes. Why are you so concerned about my finances? She wrote, but after re-reading it she deleted it. It irked her that he thought himself in charge of her money.

She ignored his text, vowing to speak to him later about it.

As Lyric drove home, she rehearsed what she was going to say when she met up with Ethic for dinner. He was coming over and said he had a surprise. He was probably bringing Melody, although Lyric was sure this was the week she was away with her mother. Confidence oozing from her pores with the prepared speech she was going to give, she was ready when he knocked on her door. He was wearing a huge smile and holding a bouquet of purple irises. The flowers took her by surprise; Ethic wasn’t known for splurging money on things destined for the bin in a few days.

“What’s this in honour of?” She gasped.

“I passed them on my way here. I couldn’t resist, they remind me of your eyes.” Lyric’s rehearsed speech melted from her mind as he kissed her. She broke away only to stir the meaty spaghetti sauce – it was not a kiss she would voluntarily leave.

“I grew up vegetarian,” admitted Ethic when dinner was served. “I was twenty before I knew people ate animals, and twenty two before I realised how delicious animals were!”

“Tell me more about how you grew up,” encouraged Lyric, leaning close to him, brushing his arm with her hand. Ethic regaled his unusual childhood growing up in a cult. Only he didn’t call it a cult; it was a ‘religious community’. A self-sufficient community growing their own vegetables and grains, several prayer sessions every day and a sermon every evening after supper. Lyric was fascinated. She’d read about Jim Jones’ Jonestown and wondered how someone can be so charismatic as to brainwash a thousand people to commit suicide. Listening to Ethic, she saw how people can fall under a superstitious spell. Ethic was born into the community and genuinely did not know the wider world outside the walls. His sister Prayer was still part of the community, raising her own family.

“Did you ever think of changing your name?”

He shook his head. “It’s the name I was given, it’s the only name I’ve ever known. It’s a reminder of where I came from, who I am, was and will be. I can’t see that changing,” he said.

Lyric had made chocolate mousse for dessert. Sure, it was from a packet and all she had to do was stir some milk into the powder, but Lyric argued there was still a certain skill in getting the mousse light and airy instead of a dense mess. She also didn’t mention she sometimes made the mousse all by herself whilst watching Bridget Jones films…

“Mmm, this is delicious, Lyric,” he gushed, savouring each mouthful of the silky mousse. Lyric beamed. He could be so charming! He was brought up so constricted, so suffocated, that it took time to learn to speak his mind. It wasn’t his fault. His filter wasn’t quite refined yet. She dismissed it as a character flaw and chose to see him as a perfect person still on a journey of self discovery and learning.

As their relationship progressed, Lyric began making plans for a romantic weekend away at a secluded cabin in the hinterland. She made sure it was his weekend without Melody. She encouraged him to pack suitable clothes by giving him subtle hints about where they were going. She would drive as to keep the destination a secret until they arrived. Ethic had been so nice lately! He’d surprised her with a date night at the movies, Gold Class no less. He had been really sweet, with only occasional jabs which always made her squirm. Still, she was able to overlook these jabs because he always made up for it.

“Was he cute?”

Lyric snapped around. “What?”

“That guy you were looking at through the rear mirror. Was he cute?”

She spat out her words. “It’s the rear view mirror! I can’t even see the driver behind me, let alone make judgements on their looks. Give it a break, will you?”

Her grip tightened on the wheel as Ethic questioned how often she continued to check her mirrors. He looked behind him, trying to gauge the driver behind her. Anger and frustration built up in Lyric even though Ethic wasn’t talking to her. It was his simple actions of constantly looking behind them as she drove. After several minutes, she indicated and pulled over to the side of the road.

“Stop it! Just stop! I am driving, not checking out other guys. Do you want to get to the cabin or not? Because I am this close to just giving up and going home. On my own,” she added dramatically as he opened his mouth to protest. She stormed out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Annoyed, he followed her. Lyric couldn’t go too far; the embankment was too steep and the car was blocking the shoulder. Lyric just needed a minute to catch her breath and calm down.

“Babe, come here.”

He stepped forward to pull her close. Lyric stepped backwards, catching her ankle in a hole by the side of the road, stumbling backwards, precariously close to falling down the embankment. He tried to catch her. She pushed him away, falling hard on her hip. She caught her tears before they fell. Surely he’d have some smart arse remark if she cried.

“I’m done,” she announced. “This constant jealousy, wanting to control what I do and what I earn, I’m done. We’re over.”

Ethic breathed hard. “Babe, I can change. I promise. I’m just afraid of losing you. Come here, let’s just go to the cabin, we’ll talk it out. I’ll change. I love you,” he pleaded.

Lyric took a moment to compose herself and her next words. “No, you can’t change. You shouldn’t change. That’s you. I’m driving you home. I’m not going to do this anymore.”

As Lyric lay on the comfy couch in the romantic cabin, sipping chilled champagne and eating chocolate dipped strawberries, she smiled. “Happy Valentines’ Day,” she wished herself.