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I always knew what I wanted. and that was all good and
fine. I could yearn, but never feel. I bled with the need to endure what never
left the back of my mind.
I worked at a local used
bookstore, and drove the old powdered blue mercedes that my well beloved aunt
passed down to me. I didn't much like the colour, but not only did it have
sentiment, It made me feel accomplished. I always enjoyed riding with her in it. My car was decorated with empty cardboard
coffee cups from country style, cellophane and yellow strips from packages of
cigarettes, CD's missing their cases, and a crystal cello player with some
eighth notes hanging from my rearview mirror. It was an older model, but
suprisingly good on the highway. I was seventh grade in piano and was working
to become a teacher at the royal conservatory of music. Or at least to give
lessons from my house. My parents were record producers for a company by the
name of Naxos. We lived in a fairly large house. I chose the room farthest to
the back so I wouldn't have to be distrubed by the guests too frequently. There
were always great musicians from Europe coming to stay with us for the period
they were in the country to record with my parents for.
As marvellous and
interesting as that was, some of them were very loud. and it gets very annoying
when you like to sleep until 3 in the afternoon.
My temper's never been too
great. Especially towards guests that don't have the decency to shut their
mouths, It's three pm. People are sleeping.
When I was 16, I asked my
mother if I could move into the basement, she was more then happy. They helped
me move the ping pong table out of the way, and helped me move my instruments
and furniture downstairs. It was a big house. so in turn, it was a very large
basement. I just made the largest space my room, and the rest was... Well,
whatever I wanted it to be. There was a
door that lead outside from the basement, so I could come and go as I did
please. We lived in Aruora. It wasn't that far away from civilization, but...
Pretty far. and I liked it that way too.
I never had many
boyfriends. I knew I was attractive because they'd always try, and I wouldn't
be able to put up with them enough to have a decent conversation, let alone a
binding relationship with. I became sour on the notion of love. I don't check
my blindspot because I always know what's going on beside me. My peripherial
has always been better than my main field of vision. I had to wear glasses when
I was driving, I was a little too nearsighted. I was 18, but my face
looked aged - if you didn't know me personally. Contrary to most peoples
beliefs; I was still a virgin. For reasons completely onto myself. For the most
part, I was waiting for somebody whom I could trust and respect. Somebody who
was a man, and not a boy. Who reaked of brilliance and madness. My father says
I have expectations of the gods. I say, For all good reason.
For the first three years
of my life, There was a Cherry Blossom out in front of the house I used to live
at,. All Winter I'd ask my mother where it went. She told me everything dies in
the Winter time.
I only had classes on
Tuesdays and Thursdays this simester. I worked any other day that they decided
to call me in. My school relocated to somewhere around Dufferin and Bloor, I
didn't much care for the area. It was very unclean. It was cheap, But made me
feel better about myself. Like being in a room full of 600 ugly people, and
knowing you're the most attractive one there. The area our house was in was very
rural, but very wealthy. The people who own the costume store at Centre and
John live just down the street from us. Everybody thinks they're Vampires. It's
silly. They have those Coffin's in their basement because they own a costume
shop, that's the most logical reason I can come up with, anyways. I still can't
understand the balcony they fenced off for their thirty cats. Maybe they just
really love animals. The book store that I worked at, was only 5 minutes away
from where I lived. This girl Allison that I knew from Highschool got me a job
there 8 months ago. Not for any particular reason, really. She knew I was in
the know, and liked to read alot more than anybody else that she knew at the
time, but for the most part, they were hiring - I was looking.
When I wasn't at school or
work, Chances are you'd find me in my room with the door locked, taking down
Daiquiri's, smoking Du Maurier special milds, and using up the ink in the
scattered black pens around my desk. I've had this desk since I was younger. It
was practically an antique. It was my great grandmothers. Rich dark hard wood
of some sort, not certain what kind exactly. When I was little, I'd carve
random words into the underside of the desk. I forgot they were there until
recently. Reading it can be haunting. The jumbled scribbles of my childhood,
pressed into the grains. I try not to think about it, or at least not look at
it.
I always wrote. Nobody
knew what exactly what I was writing about. I didn't let them know, I didn't
want them to know. I wrote for me. But, it would have been nice to show
somebody, If I thought they'd take it the way I intended it to be taken.
Tonight was going to be a
good night. I had coffee, cream, enough smokes, and my Daiquiri's (which
happened to be my current phase.)
I had a fridge and bar
downstairs with me. just beyond my room. I kept procrastinating going upstairs
to the Piano, I didn't really want to leave my room. I had ideas. I settled for
my keyboard. Which can be interesting when you have ideas. I repeated the
words... "Pinnacle, Pinnacle, Pinnacle, Nadir, Nadir, Nadir, Zenith."
I experiemented with
different tones, pitches, and volumes. I wheeled back over to my computer to
put the music I was listening to back on, and picked up where I left off.
I chewed on the red
plastic of my pen, and shook my right leg vigorously. "What now..."
I decided to go out for
coffee, I was getting a bit antsy. I needed to find inspiration somewhere.
Sometimes it comes easier when i'm moving around. Not quite inspiration, More
like a setting. I needed detail. I'd only had a single drink at this point, and
wasn't really feeling anything. I was fine to drive. I was thinking of picking
up one of my friends, but then I thought of the aftermath. Having to hear them
whine about the stupidest shit ever. No. No, that's quite the opposite to my
intentions of going out. I put on my jacket, grabbed my notebook, and I was
gone. I was pretty much done this one. I was proud, I only tolerate the best.
Some say I'm too critical. I say, I just know what I like.
I sat silently at a booth
in the back, and sipped my coffee. Scanned over the 23 pages I've written. I
was content, except for a few grammatical errors.
This was an important
piece of writing. This was the first time I've expressed this issue in words or
a situation. at the top of the page, I wrote "Cherry Juice and Saw
Dust."
I smiled and headed home.
I always have at least 5
mirrors around me at all times. I wouldn't want to forget what I came for.
I walked in the door, and
my parents were still awake, which is normal for them. They have a lot of late
nights.
Me: I didn't know we were
having guests anytime soon.
Her: Aidan's a student.
He's going to be helping us for the next couple of weeks.
Me: Well, Nice to meet
you, Aidan.
Before he could say much,
I walked downstairs. I had too much on my mind for matters of manners and
introductions.
I untied the strings of my
boots, stepped into my fuzzy leopard slippers, and threw on my robe. I sat down
in my chair. and stared at the wall for approximately 30 seconds.
For days, Aidan would pass
by me having my cereal and coffee and wouldn't say a word, I suspected he
wanted to concentrate on his work, and make a good impression while he was at
our house. I would go about my daily business, driving to coffee shops at
night, finding my place in the back and writing, go to work, come home, smoke
cigarettes and drink Jack Daniels. He'd
be dropping by almost every day for a month now, so I hardly noticed he was
there since I was always downstairs in my room. We'd have him for dinner, and
there wouldn't be much conversation between us, but an odd glare every know and
again. Instantly i'd feel the same intrusion and go back to feeling i'm too
prestigious to be noticing him, an outsider, a puppy - How pathetic. I would
not admit to myself how his eyes frightened me now and again, how he'd slink
past my room when my parents were out doing errands and he was in the office
working and arranging. Quickly I realized how absolutely silly I was being.
This boy had no place slinking around my house. I would confront him soon
enough...
Weeks went by, it was
fall, crisp, chilling, and inspiring. It was a Wednesday evening, 9:30 or so,
All the garbage was laying about to be picked up in the morning, the air
smelled of rich firewoods, and the breeze blew the crinkled coloured leaves
across the ashvault. My parents had gone to Spain last Saturday to do some
recording. I was finally glad to have the house to myself. I got home and put
something I was working on in the stereo and ran it through the computer and
main speakers in the house. I picked up one of the microphones and started to
sing, I was alone - and I felt free somehow, It was a beautiful night. I took a
bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes out on the back deck, and listened
to rinky old jazz tunes, I was approaching a state of inebriation, and decided
to take a small walk just on the outskirts of our backyard (Which was fairly
large, 3 acres.) I sat on a rock near the pond and continued to drink, I
twisted the cap back on when I'd had enough, and lit a cigarette. There was
rustling from squirrels, or something..
"Ugh. I hope it's not
a damn skunk", I got up to double check, start walking towards the broken
coloured rusty trees saw nothing and turned around. Before my brain could even
process what was going on, I had some sort of gray glove over my mouth. I
couldn't see what was happening, this was a fairly safe area, what's going on.
this isn't happening to me, It's probably just a joke. I could hear the slight
parting of moisture from their lips when they said my name.. "You're going
to do exactly what I say lest there be reprocussions." I rolled my eyes
and tried to thrash about, but I couldn't budge.
"What the fuck are
you doing to me you pathetic prick, let me go and pay for what you're looking
for like any decent pervert would, on your way with you." They blindfolded me and taped my mouth shut,
I had a hard time admitting to myself that I was scared. I was a brat, and I
knew it. I was specific, I knew exactly what I liked and especially what I
didn't. He fliped me over his shoulder and told me for every time I kicked him,
he'd cut one of my cute little toes off, and save them for himself. He put me
gently on my bed and bound me tightly to it, he shut my door, and took off my
blindfold. I was too absent minded to think anything of it, Aidan did this -
and I had no say at this point.
"Ahem, I found some
manuscripts on your desk the other day that I'd like to read to you, they were
quite shocking to say the least,
Seriously Jade darling, I had no idea - I bet nobody really does.
Sweetheart. you haven't been all too kind, I've been working extremely hard and
still you look at me sourly, and with jealousy - Listen here miss secluded,
it's time you've gotten exposed, pretty girl. You are a brilliant girl, but
also quite confused. Perhaps I should recite some of your more recent
manuscripts? "PLllzz dnnt" Barely audible through the duct tape. He
sat on the other side of the room, his eyes glowing like marble sheen past the
whisps of black neck length fine hair over his face. His eyes, I've never
noticed them... they were bright ocean green - luminesent. his skin pale
porcelian, he was dressed sharply, he took off his black trent coat, neatly
folded it and put it on the bed beside me, he was wearing an olive coloured
suit jacket, plain brown shirt, and black dress pants. My mind drifted and
paniced again at what he chose to read...
"Care to explain what
this is about? Well... Don't hurt yourself with that thing on. Here." He
rips the tape off my mouth in a fast pull." I was exceedingly embarassed,
I stared blankly in shame, I couldn't bear to look at him. "I knew this is
what you needed. I'd have fantasties when I got back home at night, of coming
down here while you were sleeping and putting my hand over your mouth, just to
see those pretty stone eyes glitter with fear for me." Aidan put out his
cigarette and started towards me. He took off his suit jacket, and sat beside
me. just staring at me, eeriely. He smelled great, I felt like an animal his
hair was dark and fell perfectly around his face, and was an incredible
contrast with his light green eyes. His face was sculpted in an almost ancient
fashion, and I suppose I've never noticed it until inside this limelight of
shocking significance.
He sat up, and went to my
red wide computer chair. "Cherry Juice &" He only managed to get
that much through his pink parted lips before I started bickering in a hubrise
as defining to my character as a fingerprint.
Aidan ignore my nonsense,
and began to read with fascinating vitality. I sat on the bed in paralyzing
awe. a slight luminesence over one hemisphere of his face from the glow of the
computer screen, while I embraced my words beating with life and oxygen, he
gave birth to a mute, and interperted it with a dialect and sound I would have
never imaged.