22 #2
Before long he called his mum and I got to speak with her about my family and what I had planned for the new year.
She informed me I was overdue for a haircut, and that I was beginning to look like some degenerate from a 70s tribute band.
I told her I was aiming more for a 93’ or 94’ Brad Pitt, to which she regrettably informed me I could never be Brad Pitt.
By the time we'd finished catching up, Rome had wandered off.
I found him in the middle of the yard, standing beside a massive telescope.
We tried to find planets and shooting stars to no avail.
His obsession with space and aliens and astronomy had not diminished one bit.
This of course led to a debate about whether humans had ever truly landed on the moon. He was still a skeptic.
Back inside, we weren’t sitting for long before someone came strutting down the hall.
Neither of us had heard the front door open.
She’d taken her shoes off at the mat, so her steps were soundless.
Bright turquoise nail varnish was the first thing I spotted, highlighting her toenails.
Her feet were long and thin like the rest of her.
They would become the most vivid thing I remembered from meeting her that day.
I would never forget how confident her feet looked.
Right away Rome got up to greet her. He went in for a hug, but she grabbed his face and planted a wet one on his lips. I cringed, averting my eyes. Her lipstick left a swatch across his lips, so he thumbed it away and waved a hand in my direction.
"Babe, you know, Rafe, right? Thee Ralph Rawlings.”
“Mate, stop,” I chuckled, standing and extending a hand. She beamed and accepted it with an affected grace, cradling the bottom of our joined hands with her other. I was still wearing a mortified smile.
"We've met in passing a few times actually, through Quinn," she assured him. Then to me: "So awesome to see you again. And nice to meet you properly this time."
She sounded so Californian. Her voice had this quavering inflection, like she was always on the verge of tears.
It was somewhat endearing, but now all I wondered was what she sounded like when she actually cried.
Probably awful. For some reason, she struck me as an ugly crier.
I could appreciate that, because most pretty girls were ugly criers.
It was like the universe's way of compensating for how attractive they were.
"You've met before?" Rome asked, with a tinge of incredulity.
"Mm-hm, kinda..." she bobbed her head and the topknot teetered like a free-standing punching bag. Brightly blonde. "Once through Quinn...then, umm…again at the awards, right?"
"Right," I nodded. "It was after you’d already gone." From the band, that is.
“Ah,” Rome replied.
We all sat and talked about the strangeness of that year, and she mentioned she was grateful he’d ditched the band because otherwise they wouldn’t have met.
She might’ve been joking, but I couldn’t quite tell.
It unnerved me that he sat so far away in a recliner once she arrived.
Now she sat on the arm of it, sun-kissed legs strewn across his lap.
“Dropping the album soon?” she asked. I glanced up, shocked to see she was speaking to me.
"Oh, uh, yes, actually. Sometime next year. It’s been a bit of an adjustment…working on solo stuff, if I’m honest."
“Only for a minute though, mate,” Rome reassured me. “Then you’ll fall in love with bringin’ your vision to life and not havin’ to worry about anyone else’s. You’ve always had great ideas, Rafe. Now they can breathe. I know it'll be amayzin’—"
"Like all of yours…" she gazed into his eyes, piping up before I could express my gratitude.
I nearly gagged when they kissed again. She had lifted his chin and brought his face to hers for an ever wetter one than before.
I was starting to notice a trend, even in the short time since she’d arrived.
She was the demanding sort. Either that, or Rome wasn't showering her with the level of affection she was accustomed to out of respect for his company.
Regardless, I sensed a dominance in her that clashed with his.
Despite the traditional beauty, there was something decidedly masculine in her carriage, in her walk.
An androgyny so inconsistent and elusive it was difficult to detect at all, unless you were like me and knew men and women equally well, inside and out.
Right away I knew it was one of the traits he was attracted to most in her, and I couldn't blame him for it.
Still, the thought of them together disgusted me beyond reckoning.
I imagined the things she must've said to him at night beneath the sheets in her trembling voice and shook with contempt. I bit the inside of my cheeks to compose myself and draw my thoughts back to the present. Rome was watching me with those doe-like, absurdly blue eyes, and a brow that had begun to furrow apologetically. But what did he have to apologize for exactly? I was the infringer. This was a world he’d built for himself with her in mind.
Without me. I gave him a limp little half smile, but couldn't commit to it for long.