Fire & Ice
Fireflies in the Garden.
TWELVE YEARS LATER
Taking the mic, she stepped carefully onto the compact, shabby stage. Her blunt-cut, fiery red bangs and long rosy curls with dip-dyed aquamarine tips hung in her eyes as she looked at her shoes, the heels were killing her but she knew that in order to get in to this club she had to dress the part. At her young age, it was technically illegal for her to be here, but her innocence usually only aided her as she plead with the bouncers. This was too often where she could be found on weekend nights, but she wouldn't be here if she had a choice. The owner knew her age but he also knew a tiny bit of her story, he therefore allowed her to preform on their busy nights for cash.
No one had yet taken notice of the small, ginger girl on stage. She enjoyed the moment of loud, raucous laughter filling the room as conversations flitted in and out of her focus. Nobody was bothering her, but that wouldn't last. It couldn't be allowed if she was to get the money she needed. She ran a hand down her face, her pale fingers tracing over her eyebrow piercing, nose stud, and spider bites on the left side. The mic in her hand was getting slippery as her palms dewed with sweat. She had to get on with it before they kicked her out for wasting time.
"Ahem," she called into the mic, pulling a few audience members to her attention, though most remained oblivious. "Hi," more heads turned to face her at the sound of her soft, silky voice vibrating the club's speakers, "I'm here to sing a couple songs for you tonight. I hope you don't mind."
The majority of the crowd faced her now, ready to hear what this young girl could do. Beads of cold sweat raced down her spine, running between her sharp shoulder blades and dampening the orange and aqua curls at the back of her neck. She worked to keep her eyes from staying glued to her shoes, taking a quick sweeping look at the crowd before her. They wanted to hear something, anything. She forced herself to turn toward the mic stand, stool, and beat-up acoustic waiting behind herself. Upon strapping on the guitar and popping the mic into its place, she took in a shaky breath.
"Here goes. This is Hands on the Radio by Chris Garneau." The audience was fairly attentive as she began to strum, but the real reaction occurred as her voice first filtered into the mic.
His head was pounding at the obnoxious level of volume with which his friends joked. Their words all began to blend into one long murmur of sound and their faces became one solid expression of joy. In his current state, he couldn't understand their happiness. The ever-present depression that seemed to haunt him in the last few weeks had clouded his vision so thoroughly that he couldn't quite remember what it felt like to be 'normal'. He only knew that whatever 'normal' was it was not himself, and that he craved it a little bit, if only to get a break from the constant sadness that hung over him like a storm cloud.
"C'mon, Andy!" CC called over his shoulder, pulling Andy out of his thoughts and into reality. He stumbled after the drummer as they made their way into the small club.
The rest of the group was at the bar in a heartbeat, but Andy couldn't make himself do it. He knew he wouldn't, but part of him was screaming to just get shitfaced and forget all of the pain that he couldn't understand. Even with that intriguing idea, his feet drug as he shuffled reluctantly toward the bar. He sat atop a stool and asked for a bottle of water. The bartender looked annoyed, wanting to serve a drink and get a tip, but Andy couldn't care less. His sole focus was getting through this weekend in one piece. He was just anxious to get on with the tour and hoped that getting back to it after their month long break would help him get back on his feet. There was too much noise for such a small area of space, it was making Andy feel increasingly claustrophobic. He excused himself, though the guys took little notice what with their increasing level of alcohol intake, and took the bottle of water with him to find himself a place to smoke.
He found a door that seemed to be appropriate. He was right, upon stepping through he found himself in a quiet ally between the club and a liquor store. Stupid placement for the businesses, he decided, but it didn't matter much to him. He only cared that the cool fall breeze blew through and helped to clear his head. He lit up and leaned against the brick wall near the back corner of the ally, feeling his stomach settle from the chill and his way of alternating between sips of water and drags of nicotine. The pounding in his head was also slowly subsiding. By the time he'd almost finished his cigarette he decided he really didn't want to go back in. His thoughts were interrupted, however, at the sound of shoes hitting the concrete in a rhythmical pattern near the door to the club.
Attached to the sky-high heels, he found a female silhouette pacing. Her hair was curly and her frame was skinny, but he couldn't tell much more from the dark shadow he saw. He watched her round up her strength and throw her fist straight into the metal door of the club. She didn't scream in pain, only huffed out a quick, "Fuck."
Andy tossed the remains of his cigarette to the floor and crunched it with his boot while pushing himself up from the wall. He made his way toward her, to ask if she was okay, but he was too late. She was swinging the door open and stomping inside. He followed her, but quickly lost her in the dense crowd. Near the stage, Andy found that there were chairs sat out, they were designated for some kind of open-mic night although many people seemed to have taken a seat just to give themselves a break from standing, but she wasn't there either. He looked over his shoulder, but she didn't seem to be at the bar, though he did catch sight of his bandmates making trouble there. He chuckled to himself lowly, though it felt forced, everything felt forced to him lately.
Once again, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing loudly above the other sounds. He wasn't sure how no one else noticed it, but they all seemed too busy drinking or dancing or sucking each other's faces. He found the source quickly, there was a small girl walking slowly onto the stage, the girl from before. He hadn't moved far from the chairs so he quickly sat in the chair the furthest from the stage. Something about this girl had captured his attention.
She stepped toward a mic stand and tugged the mic into her hand before stepping close to the front of the stage. Andy watched as she dropped her head, keeping her face hidden in her mass of ginger curls that were dyed a vibrant shade of teal at the bottom and fell to reach mid-thigh in length. Something about her seemed so familiar, he wanted to see her face but she was studiously staring at her feet, kicking them around a bit, and seeming to shake all over. 'Nerves', he thought. It brought a genuine tug of emotion to his heart, the nostalgia of seeing a young performer who was nervous to speak those first words that gained an audience's attention. Andy found that he was the only person who appeared to notice the small girl who'd taken the stage, but it didn't last long. There was a small shuffling sound before she began to speak.
"Ahem. Hi." Her voice was soft and light, it was as if you were being brushed by the tip of a feather. Andy found himself leaning his elbows onto his knees and shifting forward a bit to hear her better, as did a few other guests. She was still well hidden behind her orange bangs and there was a distinct tremor rocking her that indicated she was, in fact, very nervous. "I'm here to sing a couple songs for you tonight, I hope you don't mind."
There were murmured words and a few kind chuckles. She'd quickly captured the attention of more than just Andy. Most of the club watched her intently as she turned toward her set up. She settled in and spoke once more. "Here goes... This is Hands on the Radio by Chris Garneau."
She fingered her guitar shakily for a second before she seemed to get her bearings. Still hidden behind a curtain of curls, the girl began to strum a tune. Andy was enraptured. His every thought was on the small ginger girl with the beat-up, midnight blue guitar. In what seemed a heartbeat's time, she drew in a deep breath and began to sing.
If there was a single person in the club who'd not noticed her, they had now. There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd, as if they all relied on one set of lungs, Andy included. All eyes were now on the girl.
The lyrics were soft, but made into something beautiful by the voice that sang them. Her voice itself was something of a mix between light and breathy, and haunting and deep. It wasn't masculine, nor was it too feminine. Her tone forced your skin to erupt in goosebumps and the hair on your arms to stand on end. As it made your heart race, it also wiped your mind of the daily clutter of life and gave you an all-consuming sense of peace. Her words were also beautiful but they were unimportant, she could be singing anything and it would instantly become a masterpiece.
Much too soon, it was over. She looked up only once, quickly scanning the crowd, before dropping her eyes to her hand as it rested on the fretboard once more. "Thank you," She whispered breathlessly, "I don't mean to keep you much longer, so I'll just do one more song and be out of your hair."
Andy was shocked. She apparently didn't understand the incredible talent she held or the effect it had on the crowd before her. He was even more immersed in questions about this girl. She didn't let him dwell on his thoughts too long, though, before she began to strum again, speaking into the mic softly over the sound.
"This is Vienna, by Billy Joel." She told the club-goers as she played. Her fingers caressed the strings with a gentle fondness, tracing an old pattern she knew so well. In the life she'd been dealt, growing up fast was never a choice but she liked to think she'd retained enough of her innocence to still consider herself a child. She often resented the people and events that had led her to this day, but she enjoyed playing this song to give herself a moment of promise. Promise that there was still so much waiting for her, that her age was still young, and that she could still become the person she wanted to be, she only had to take it one day at a time to get there.
Too soon for her liking, the song was over. Only then did she permit herself to assess the reaction of the audience. They were silent. It was terrifying. She felt her eyes sting with salt water and a lump rise in her throat but she forced herself to keep it in as she glued her eyes back to her guitar. She was here for the money that was required to live, not to have people like her. She couldn't help the fact that it hurt anyway. 'No', she scolded herself, 'Pain is weakness. Don't let them see your weakness.'
The silence was deafening, she felt it pressing against her eardrums with the strength of the universe. It hurt even more.
Just as her hand moved to remove the guitar strap, preparing herself to run off stage, she heard a sound. Not just any sound, either, it was clapping. One person's silhouette stood from their chair. A man. He was clapping for her. There was a second set of hands joining in, and then a third. And then the silence was long-gone, replaced with a roar of applause. Every person who'd been seated was now standing. Her eyes were wide, her mouth only barely staying closed, and her body was frozen. Her vision got blurry, but these were a very different kind of tears. She'd never received such a reaction. This was also the largest crowd she'd ever preformed for, the club was a sort of hole-in-the wall place that got little traffic. She was stunned.
In the crowd, one man still towered above the rest in height, he was the man who'd first clapped. She was eternally grateful to him. She wasn't able to see much until the footlight dimmed. Then she examined him even more, wanting to know what he looked like so that she could thank him later. Tall, skinny, younger looking but still an adult, coal-black hair, tattoos... she didn't see much more before she realized she was staring and it was embarrassing. He noticed her gaze too and smiled at her, but she dropped her eyes after returning a slight grin. She nodded to the crowd as she shrugged out from the guitar and leant it against her stool so she could hop down from her perch. She scooped up the guitar and quickly mumbled a small 'Thanks' into the mic before scurrying off to the back office where she was allowed to keep her instruments.
"Well done, kid." The owner, Jackson, told her as he held open the office door for her. He was young, barely twenty-three, but had inherited this club after his father's death. He was always kind to her, letting her preform when she was obviously underage, still paying her as much as he did any other artist, allowing her to crash on the office's couch on nights when other arrangements weren't possible. He'd become a sort of father/brother figure, though their relationship was always very reserved and remained mainly a business one. He let her hang up her guitar on the wall of them whilst he dove into the desk drawer and handed her an envelope, "Here's your pay."
"Thanks." She smiled at him, wiping off the over-done make up she'd been wearing where it had run with her joyous tears.
"No problem, kiddo." He grinned at her as he stuck his hand into his back pocket and tugged out yet more money. It was a sizable stack, folded in half, and tied with a rubber band. "Here, this is yours too." She raised her pierced brow, and he grinned even wider, "Tips."
"Wow..." She ran her small fingers delicately over the wad of cash. "But," She held it toward him again, "I can't take this. I got my pay, that's more than I should get. It's fine."
He shook his head, forcing the money back into her hands, "You get it all. You work just as hard as any other, if not more. You deserve all that you get in return. You've got talent, kid."
She thanked him with another small smile, tucking all the money into her bag, but stayed quiet after that. She knew he was too kind to her, so she didn't want to seem ungrateful, but she also wasn't good with compliments. Especially ones she felt were ill-placed, such as kind words about her 'talent'. He nodded and headed back out, trusting her enough to be alone in the office. She fell onto the couch, quickly kicking off her heels, changing into some spare clothes she kept in her satchel, and blacking out the second her head hit the armrest.
Andy followed Jack, the rest of the band trailing behind in various states of drunkenness, toward the back. Though he'd prefer to still be searching the crowd for the girl, they'd come to the club in the first place for a reason. Jack was an old friend of Jinxx and Sammi's (Sammi had done the photography at Jack's sister's wedding as a family-friend favor) and had eventually become a friend of the whole band's. They were here to visit him, though Andy still wasn't in any mood to socialize despite the girl who lifted his spirits a bit.
"Just hang on for a sec, I've gotta get my keys from the office." They all nodded at him, following his lead to stay quiet. None of the guys were quite sure why they were whispering and shuffling silently seeing as they were just down the hall from a club that was blaring music at its top volume, but they followed Jack's lead nevertheless. "Here, just stay quiet."
The guys scuttled into the large, dark office cautiously. Jack felt his way toward his desk and flicked on a lamp. It only offered a dim glow, but it was enough for him to search for his keys atop the wrecked desk. The guys didn't move much, they were too startled. Out of the corner of his eye, Andy noticed what caught their attention, as did Jackson.
"That's why we gotta be quiet." Jackson was still searching for his keys in the clutter, "She kicks it here sometimes, she's a pretty heavy sleeper after a show though."
The small girl was curled into herself atop the long, suede couch. Her head was cuddled into the armrest, her legs tugged into her chest where a small, purple stuffed bear was tucked. She was wearing a sweatshirt that was many sizes too large and a pair of basketball shorts, her massive curls were splayed out around her, covering her face while her bangs still lay against her forehead. Her eyelashes fluttered against her pale cheeks, her pouty lips hung open just a bit as light breaths moved her chest.
"She was amazing tonight." Ashley's voice was hushed, but still bursting with amazement. "Who is she?"
"I can't tell you much, I don't know much." Jackson shrugged, coming around the desk with his keys in his hand, his eyes trailing toward her with fondness, "She came in here about a year ago asking for a job, I knew she was underage but I couldn't turn her away. Her mom died when she was young, apparently, and she's been sleeping where there's a flat surface and applying for jobs ever since. Never, though, will she accept a hand-out. Strong willed, hard headed, thick skin, powerhouse of talent, and a heart of gold. Swear to you, you'll never find a kid with a sharper tongue and repertoire of curse words."
"She's a cutie." CC grinned at Jack, but quickly went on at the glare Jackson sent him, "Like Pinch-Your-Cheeks-Cute. She looks like she could be my daughter! Jesus, Jack, I didn't mean it like that."
Jack let it go, albeit reluctantly, and they all chuckled lightly. The girl began to stir a bit, letting out a small groan. Jackson motioned for them to head out while he flipped off the lamp. They all meandered down the hall, now headed for a studio Jackson kept above the club. Jack unlocked the door, letting the guys spill in, and they all took seats on the scattered couch and chairs. The guys got into conversation quickly and lost themselves in their tipsy states, yet Andy couldn't be found a part of it. Instead, he was looking out the window to the garden to the side of the club. He watched the trees sway in the breeze as his thoughts ran free. The girl had seemed so familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. He was so focused on this girl he'd never once spoken to. He couldn’t make any sense of it yet he still knew clearly that he would talk to her. He had to. There was just something about her.
“Andy!” Jake called, forcing Andy’s eyes to leave the beautiful window scene, “C’mon man!”
“Uh,” Andy hesitated, trying to come up with a reason to not be forced to plaster on his now classic fake smile and force his laughter so as not to worry his band mates. At that second, Andy saw something flash by in the garden. Something bright, something like flames. On closer inspection, he saw that there was a girl with red and aqua hair sitting beneath a tree in the far corner of the yard. “Hold up. I need a smoke.”
With that, Andy ducked back down the stairs and tried to find which door lead to that small yard.
Sitting on the damp grass, she felt a breeze ripple through the leaves surrounding her hiding spot. She wished she’d worn something heavier, the sweatshirt she currently donned was one she’d had for years and had gotten second-hand in the first place, it was riddled with holes and the material had been worn thin. A slight shiver rolled down her spine and made her exposed legs erupt in goose bumps. Still, this was her favorite place to think.
She needed to figure out what she would be doing tomorrow night. She couldn’t take up space at Jack’s on a night when she didn’t even work. That would be silly. She could go to the church down the street, the pastor there was a kind man who allowed her to stay some nights. She paid him, obviously, though it was always a battle just to get him to accept her money. He didn’t know her story, she couldn’t tell him for fear he would ‘help’ her into a foster home or orphanage. No one knew much of her life story for that matter. It was too great a risk. She kept her personal ties loose and her lips sealed tight. She’d fended for herself for as long as she could remember, she wasn’t going to stop now just because things were getting a bit more rough. She decided that she’d have enough money, thanks to her pay and the generous tips, to eat a full meal tomorrow and also be able to pay to stay at the church and then have some left to spare.
A sigh fell from her lips as she rolled her shoulders back, stretching a bit. She knew she should try to sleep seeing as it wasn’t every night that she had such a nice place to stay, but her mind was alive with thought. She couldn’t make her train of thought pause long enough to submerge herself in sleep, it just wasn’t possible. Then again she’d trained herself to function without much sleep, she could go for up to four days with only an hour nap in between. Though she was a naturally small girl, she was also extremely skinny what with her infrequent meals, terrible sleeping pattern, and the amount of physical and mental stress that came along with supporting yourself at such a young age. Still she managed to have enough muscle to walk most everywhere she had to go. She was so lost in her thoughts she almost missed the sound of the door to the garden opening. As soon as she realized what it was she darted behind the bush beside her and curled up, waiting for the guest to get on with their business and return to the club. She’d seen more than a fair share of drug deals, drunken sex, and mental breakdowns. You get to see a lot more than you’d think from hidden corners in alleys and crowded hostels, there wasn’t much that scared her anymore. She was surprised, however, to see that the figure came right to where she’d been sitting beneath the tree. Even more so when he called out.
“I know you’re out here, I don’t mean any harm. I saw you preform, I’m a friend of Jack’s too.” His voice was deep, very much so, and seemed to somehow tug at the edges of her memory. His voice was familiar, she just couldn’t discern where from. Still, she’d lived on the streets too long to not be wary, she’d learned that reassuring words were not always spoken from a true heart. “Please, I’d just lake to talk.”
She didn’t even realize what she was doing until she found herself standing and coming around the bush. She stood right behind him, one hand outstretched toward his shoulder high above, he was extremely tall and she was exceptionally short, especially since she’d ditched her heels for her only other pair of shoes-- an old, beat up pair of Docs. She hesitated, her fingers only inches away from the shoulder of his black leather jacket. At the last second, her mind caught up with her body and she yanked her hand back and began to move away from him. She stumbled, though, as her head was spinning a bit due to her hunger. He heard and spun to reach out and grab her hand, stopping her from falling.
Once she’d steadied herself, she politely nodded to him and retrieved her hand from his grasp. He looked a mix of disappointed, relieved, curious, tired, sad, and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. He also looked familiar. She dropped her eyes and promised herself to avoid eye contact with him, remaining hidden a bit by her bangs that were quickly growing too long and hung in her eyes. Just then, it hit her.
“You were in the crowd. You clapped.” She wanted to slap her hand over her mouth but it was too late, her silly words had slipped through.
He chuckled a bit, though it didn’t seem fully genuine, and smiled at her kindly. “I was. Though I don’t think I was the only one who clapped.”
“No. But you were the first.” Again, she spoke without thinking. She attributed it to her sleep-deprived, hunger-driven, overwhelmed brain.
“That I was,” He grinned a bit more genuinely, “Why are you out here alone? I thought you were sleeping?”
“How– How did you know that?” She began to step back again, worried that she’d been right to be wary of him.
“I’m a friend of Jack’s, we had to go in the office and we saw you.” He looked to her apologetically, hoping he didn’t scare her off before he’d gotten a chance to really talk with her, “Sorry if I scared you earlier, just popping out here and all.”
“I don’t scare that easily.” Her words were light, offhand, cool. But it sparked something in Andy nonetheless. Those words, those lips, that nose, that hair. It was too familiar. He could feel his mind working hard, trying to remember her.
“Have we met before?” He didn’t mean to sound creepy, he could feel himself redden a bit.
“I was wondering the same thing...” She raised one eyebrow at him, the one that he could see was pierced, and her lips twitched at the side, almost smiling but not quite. He could now see her face-to-face, but his curiosity to know her hadn’t died down, only increased. He still couldn’t place where he knew her.
“Do you know how I am?”
“Should I?” She looked equally affronted and truly wondering.
“I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” He found himself at a loss for words around this kid, constantly feeling as though he wasn’t doing enough to keep her entertained with their conversation, constantly worried she’d grow bored and leave. He wasn’t sure why but the prospect of her leaving was very upsetting to him. “I thought maybe you were a fan, maybe we’d met at a signing or something...”
“Sorry, but I don’t know you.” She seemed honestly disheartened to not know him. Like she’d been just as curious about this odd sense of deja vu they had. “So... I guess we’ll never know.”
He shrugged, not knowing what else to say. “You never answered me, what are you up to all alone out here?”
She was still keeping her distance but something in her open expression made him feel as if she couldn’t help but feel the same strange sense of comfort that he noticed in her presence. “I wanted to think. Couldn’t sleep.”
He nodded, understanding perfectly well what that felt like. He’d pretty much been living on Monsters and Red Bulls lately. She stood the toes of her let boot atop the scuffed top of her right, clearly feeling as weird as Andy did at this moment. She had yet to make eye contact, always finding something else interesting enough to look at while they talked. At the moment she was examining the sleeve of her hoodie where a small hole had been worn or cut in just the right spot, allowing her to stick her thumb through, the other sleeve matched. He took a moment to really look at her. She looked much younger now than she had on stage. Her earlier outfit was rather risqué and had made her seem more physically mature, he figured that had been the point. Currently he could tell that she was very short, only coming up to his elbow, and beyond skinny. The bones of her knees and wrists were clearly apparent, as were her collar bones. Yet her face had managed to retain a childish roundness, making her innocence blatantly clear now that her features were clean of gaudy make up. She must have felt his gaze on her as her head raised to meet his. Instantly they were both stock-still.
There was something odd about each other that kept their look locked. Eyes. Their eyes. Andy looked at this small girl and saw his own eyes reflected perfectly back to him. Icy blue, reflecting the light of the club’s flickering Open sign, deep and entrancing. They were much more beautiful when fit with her features, he decided, than they looked with his. Suddenly he saw that her eyes, the ones that were so much like his own, appeared glassy. She was about to cry. He panicked, not knowing how to help. For some unknown reason the thought of her crying was deeply saddening to him. He’d seen plenty of girls cry, between excited fans and a loving mother and fiancee. But never had he felt so intensely petrified of seeing salty water pooling in another’s eyes. She dropped her head and he watched as she chewed on her lip and spider bites. She was trying not to cry. He didn’t know how to help.
“I should go.” She moved toward the door, skirting around Andy and managing to avoid brushing by him at all.
“Wait! Wait.” He almost reached out to grab her but stopped himself short, dropping his arm to his side again, for fear it would scare her further. “Stay a minute. Please. I really don’t want to have to go back up there.”
She froze, her back still facing him, and seemed to debate it. Just as he was sure she was leaving anyway, she turned a fraction of an inch toward him and spoke in a voice that was nearly a whisper, “Why not?”
“Honestly?” He wasn’t sure why but he was suddenly able to explain all the things he’d been unable to admit to even himself previously. “I don’t know. I love the guys up there, they’re my family, but I cannot stand the idea of being within a mile of them right now. They are constantly trying to make me smile or be ‘the old me’ but I just can’t do it. I can’t. I wish I could, for them and for myself, but its becoming near impossible. I don’t feel. At all. I smile when I think I should and laugh when I can tell I’m supposed to but I can’t remember the last time I actually felt. Actually, I take that back. There is one thing I feel... this intense emptiness. This all-consuming loneliness. I don’t understand it. I have every reason to be happy right now. My dreams are coming true before my eyes and yet I can’t even muster up an ounce of happiness about it. I know it sounds crazy, I know you’re probably about to run right back in there and think you just escaped the clutches of some mad man but it’s the best explanation I have for what’s going through my head.”
She was still, completely statuesque. He was afraid he’d only scared her more, said too much, but he couldn’t have stopped his words even if he’d wanted to. Slowly, painfully slowly, she turned toward him again, keeping her eyes on her shoes, and walked his way. She passed him though, which confused him, until he saw her sit once again beneath the tree, just beside his feet. She peeked up through her curtain of curls and then reached out, tugging on the leg of his black skinny jeans, signaling him to sit down. She was so quiet. It was unnerving to Andy, who felt as though he’d just bared his soul to a stranger who had no words of consolation. Even so, he sat beside her, following her lead and leaning back against the tree’s trunk. She cast her eyes into the sky, looking at the stars, and he did the same, just for the sake of having somewhere to look.
“I...” Her voice was even softer than before, so quiet that Andy almost missed it, “I understand.”
He wasn’t sure what to say, how could a child understand this constant depression? That couldn’t be possible. At her age(or what he guessed her age to be), though he’d seen enough of the world’s hate and sadness, he still had high hopes and looked around himself in wonder and awe. Children were supposed to have that view of the world that you yearn for once you reach adulthood. No child should have to feel what he was feeling. Fuck, he was nearly thirty and he didn’t think it was fair to feel as he did.
“I’m sure you’re wondering how anyone, let alone a kid, could understand. Right now you feel so isolated. Yes, you’ve heard people talk about ‘depression’ before but you imagine they never felt it as heavily as you do. There’s no way anyone could feel this way and still function that long. Surely. Well, you’re wrong. You aren’t alone. No matter how bad it gets someone else has it worse, as unbelievable as that may seem.”
Again, Andy was at a loss for words. She hit the nail on the head with every word. He did feel isolated. All of it was spot on. He broke his eyes from the stars that he used to find so fascinating to look down at her. Her eyes were closed, her face turned toward the sky, as she leaned back against the tree and wrapped her arms around her legs which were pinned to her chest. She looked so sad, yet so peaceful. It was a heartbreaking sight. More than anything, she looked tired. Not just physically but within as well. The kind of tired that can’t be slept away. The kind of tired he was beginning to feel himself. He understood now why someone would say they wished to fall asleep and never wake up. It wasn’t just the desire to die, it was a desire to rest. To rest peacefully for eternity, because you feel so internally exhausted that sleeping forever seems the only way you could ever feel yourself again. He wanted that, but he didn’t want her to want that.
“Your body could sleep for days and you’re still tired, despite the fact that you can never manage to get to sleep in the first place. You eat everything in sight and you’re still hungry, though you really didn’t find food appealing to begin with. You cry for hours and yet you still have more tears to shed, though you also feel no sadness at all. Someone makes a joke and you laugh and laugh but you feel as though you could laugh until your sides split and still not be done, yet you don’t feel any happiness or amusement to cause this fit. You go places and see new things and wander the streets yet you still feel like there’s somewhere you’re headed that you don’t know how to get to, even though you hate the idea of leaving your bed at all. You smoke a cigarette and another and another, the calm goes through your body but your mind just wont be still, yet it is empty of thoughts altogether. You end a call with a family member or friend by saying ‘love you’, however you aren’t sure you mean it because the words are automatic and are supposed to be said, you feel guilty for even considering not meaning it, but you just can’t honestly feel love for them. You talk until you’re blue in the face and have no more voice but you still have more to say and you still can never find the right words anyway. To top it all off, there’s the fact that while all of this is so confusing you still can’t take the time to sort through it all because you’re so busy just trying to make it through the day without falling apart, though part of you is almost craving some kind of breakdown because at least you’d know you were still human and could still have emotions. All in all you’re upset about it but you can’t seem to find the part of you that still feels enough to be upset so as to shut it off too. You hate what is happening but your thoughts are so jumbled and you’re hurting so much that you can’t imagine unlocking ‘the old you’ because the idea of experiencing any more pain than you already do is absolutely terrifying. So you hate your numbness but you’re grateful for it too because the idea of feeling anything at all is equally traumatic. You see that I understand yet you still feel alone, because you feel as though the things I’ve described only scratch the surface of all of the pain and emptiness you feel.”
Her words were like needles or nails, each one stabbing into his skin and sending a mixture of pain and shock. By the same token, each thing she said made him feel a little less empty, a little less alone, though an all-encompassing loneliness still weighed heavy in his heart. She understood. She actually understood. It was equally comforting and saddening. No one, especially a child, should have to understand this, no matter how grateful he was for knowing he wasn’t just going crazy. He wasn’t sure still what to say, so he simply said the only thing he could think. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ve been there.” She muttered something else but he couldn’t quite make out the words, he didn’t ask because he figured she’d have said it clearly if she wanted him to hear it.
In a moment of silence, something struck him as he was letting her words soak in. “Hold up a sec,” She didn’t open her eyes, but she turned her chin toward him a bit, directing him to go on, “How’d you know about the cigarette thing?”
She chuckled dryly, not with any hint of actual amusement, “I’m not sure what you want me to say to that when the answer is fairly obvious.”
“But...” Andy was thoroughly confused, she looked so damn young, “How old are you then?”
“Why do you want to know?” She cracked her eyes open a bit and gave him a sassy smirk.
“So I can know how angry I should be about your habit.” He smirked right back, though the smile never touched either of the pair’s matching eyes.
“Eleven.”
“ELEVEN?” He was shocked. Granted, he’d assumed she was young, but not that young. What with her clothes earlier, mature way of carrying herself, and the fact that she smoked he’d assumed she was at least a teenager.
“Isn’t that what I just said? I could swear I was speaking english...” She was sarcastic, dry, and still a bit sassy. Andy was having a hard time staying appropriately enraged, she was just too cute.
“Why the fuck do you smoke then? How do you even get cigarettes at that age?” He was too caught up in his shock to realize that he sort of already knew the answer to the second question at least, after all he’d grown up a bit of a rebel himself.
“Why do you smoke?” she countered.
“Cause I’m addicted. And I like it. But I’m an adult so I’m allowed to like it. You, on the other hand, are much too young to be allowed.”
“I’m going to ignore the ignorance of that statement, seeing as age is only a number and I’m fairly certain I am more mature than most people your age, and answer your other question. It’s easy. Swipe ‘em. Bum ‘em. Or just flirt with the cashier.”
She was so cavalier about it, Andy couldn’t help the small part of him that was impressed and strangely proud of her rebellious nature. “You’re eleven.”
“I thought we made that clear earlier? Are you a little on the slow side?” She now looked at him with open curiosity and a bit of teasing.
“I meant... you’re eleven. How do you even know how to flirt?”
“God, how old are you?” She rolled her eyes the way only a pre-teen can, “It can’t have been that long since you were my age. Surely you aren’t laboring under the delusion that eleven year olds are still playing with Barbies and Hot Wheels.”
“Hey, I’m not that old!” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest like a toddler, pouting.
“Well, you know how old I am... so I should get an answer in return.”
“Aren’t kids supposed to not ask adults their age?” Andy quirked up an eyebrow, avoiding giving an answer simply to annoy her.
“That’s only for menopausal women and balding men who are embarrassed to admit it,” she challenged. “Are you so elderly that you’re embarrassed to admit your age? I guess I was right in thinking you were probably wearing skinny jeans out of desperation for your youthful years.”
“Hey hey! No hating the jeans!” He knocked his elbow against her shoulder softly, making both of them laugh. She stuck her tongue out at him, making something glint and catch Andy’s eye. He shot his hand out fast, catching her tongue between his fingers, shocking them both a bit. He examined her tongue and found his suspicions to be correct. She looked at him strangely, taking her tongue back between her pierced lips as soon as he released her. “You have your tongue pierced too.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. One to which there was no real response. “Yeah, so? Is this your new way of avoiding my question?”
“I’m twenty-eight.” He shrugged, finally giving in.
“Ha! You’re ancient!” She giggled a bit and seemed surprised at herself, she quickly stopped laughing and looked to her hands quickly.
“One: I AM NOT! Two: it’s okay to laugh you know, I won’t bite.” Andy could feel himself relaxing into a comfortable banter with her and he was relieved. It’d been a while since he really tried to make conversation with someone new, someone he didn’t already know or who wasn’t a fan who already ‘knew’ him.
“Hmph. You may not bite but if you grab my tongue again I might just have to.” She replied cattily, still not seeming as into it. She’d retreated back into her shell, it disappointed Andy a bit and he immediately felt as though it was his fault. A wave of guilt washed over him.
He was trying to think of something to make her smile, which had suddenly become the most important thing to him, when he saw her shiver. On closer inspection he saw holes all throughout her sweatshirt and shorts, exposing her pale skin covered in goose bumps. He leaned off the tree and shrugged out of his leather jacket.
“Here.” He offered it to her but she shook her head. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
She gave in with a sigh, rolling her ice blue eyes again. Once she’d stuck her arms through the sleeves, which had to be bunched up so that they didn’t hang way past her hands, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned into the tree once more. Andy could feel the chill now that he was only in his white tank with the sleeves cut so low that they exposed all of his ribs on either side, but he wasn’t much bothered by it. It was a nice break from the sweaty air he’d endured inside the club. It also made him feel alive, for just a second. He glanced over to see her with one hand stuck into his jacket pocket, he was caught between shock and outrage versus amusement and curiosity. He decided it was more the latter as he saw her pull out his cigarette box and a silver lighter.
“Ah ah ah,” He swooped in and snatched the stick she’d put between her lips, leaving her with a small pout, “Not on my watch kid.”
He grabbed the lighter too and lit up the cigarette for himself, taking a long drag and blowing it out of the corner of his mouth, trying to keep the smoke away from her since he knew how much smelling second-hand could make you crave one yourself.
“Oh, so you’re that kind of adult.” She folder her arms back over her chest and rolled her eyes yet again.
“Excuse me, what kind of adult would that be?” Andy’s voice was slightly sarcastic.
“You know. That kind. The hypocrite. The one who tells you not to swear until they are on the phone with their co-workers and it’s ‘Fuck this’ and “Fuck that’ while they mutually complain about their asshole boss. They tell you sex is bad and to stay pure when they fucked in the back of a truck after their eighth grade dance. The one who says it’s bad to drink but then they are drunk off their ass on cheep beer and wine when their friends come over. That one.”
“I protest.” Andy sat up a bit, genuinely upset by that accusation. “I hated those adults too when I was your age. But when you get older you realize that most of the time they’re just trying to help, in their own fucked up way. Besides, I don’t give a fuck if you curse.”
She reached over and snatched the lighter, quickly dipping into the box and pulling out a fresh cigarette which she bit and lit. Distantly, Andy noticed that the hand she used to hold her cigarette was also the hand she’d punched the door with, as evidenced by the slight bruising scattering the split skin on the knuckles of her left hand, so she was a lefty. She raised an eyebrow at him as she sucked in a deep breath and blew it out of her nose. “I’ve taken care of myself for eleven or so years, I think I can handle it pretty well.” She placed the lighter back in Andy’s hand and leaned against her spot on the tree. Andy was unsure how to react, feeling equal amounts guilt and pity. She flicked her cigarette between her fingers, letting the ashes sprinkle the grass below her, and glanced toward him. He quickly tried to lean back against the tree trunk and look busy but they both knew he’d been caught. “Don’t feel pity for me. I hate pity. I’ve done damn well, better than I would’ve been had I stayed put in my old life, and I don’t need people feeling bad for me.”
“I agree, I think you’re a pretty cool kid.” He grinned down at her with half his mouth, the other half holding onto his cigarette while taking another long drag. “Still doesn’t mean I condone your smoking.”
She rolled her eyes, she did that quite a lot he noticed, and waved her free hand dismissively, her other flicking more ashes to the ground before taking another hit.
He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, mocking her lightly, to which she laughed a bit. “So,” He spoke, blowing smoke into the toxic air surrounding their tree, “What’s your name anyway?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She kept her eyes on her cigarette as smoke twisted from the end, curling into swirly patterns.
“Exactly. That’s why I asked. And you call me slow.”
She chuckled again but still gave no response to his inquiry. As she took a final drag, she stubbed the stick against the bark of the tree and tossed the remainder of the cigarette into the bushes behind them. “Well,” She began to slip out of his jacket, tucking his box back into its original pocket and handing the whole thing to Andy, “I’d better go to sleep. Or, bed anyway. Long day tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah?” Andy stood up, offering her a hand and tugging her to her feet as well, “What’s tomorrow?”
“Sunday?” She looked at him strangely. Suddenly, he got it. Every day was a big day for her. Every day was a struggle and a battle in itself.
“Right.” He let the subject drop, tugging his jacket back on and following her to the door. They entered and were instantly surrounded by a loud bass that shook the walls and made their ears ring. As they reached the office again, Andy caught her from going in, “You’re staying here tonight, right?”
“Uh,” She looked at him funny again, “Obviously.”
“Cool.” He turned to go but this time she stopped him.
“Why’d you ask?” She sounded suspicious. He wondered what it must be like to live in constant fear of every person around you and what their intentions might be.
“We are too. Our tour bus is parked in the lot across the street.” He smiled sadly at her, “I’m not saying I like it, but if you are out for a smoke then stop by, I’d like to hang again.”
She didn’t really give him an answer, only shrugged and smiled a bit too before turning toward the office again. “Night...” She trailed off, not knowing his name.
“I’m Andy.” He smiled more kindly, which she still only halfheartedly returned.
“Night, Andy.”
“Night...” His voice petered out too, waiting for her name.
She grinned and there was an evil glint in her eyes, “Night.” Was all she said before disappearing into the large, oak room once more.
As the door fell shut behind her, Andy chuckled to himself. That kid was something else. He was so invested in this kid he’d only seen tonight, and she’d already made him smile and laugh more honestly than he’d done in weeks. He had a true smile plastered on his lips as he mounted the stairs to the studio appartment, ready to face his friends now that he’d had a moment of some sense of normalcy. Even though the heavy weight on his shoulders was still clearly there, he finally felt like he could get through tonight without wanting to curl up and disappear. He could do this, thanks to that mysterious little girl.
Taking the mic, she stepped carefully onto the compact, shabby stage. Her blunt-cut, fiery red bangs and long rosy curls with dip-dyed aquamarine tips hung in her eyes as she looked at her shoes, the heels were killing her but she knew that in order to get in to this club she had to dress the part. At her young age, it was technically illegal for her to be here, but her innocence usually only aided her as she plead with the bouncers. This was too often where she could be found on weekend nights, but she wouldn't be here if she had a choice. The owner knew her age but he also knew a tiny bit of her story, he therefore allowed her to preform on their busy nights for cash.
No one had yet taken notice of the small, ginger girl on stage. She enjoyed the moment of loud, raucous laughter filling the room as conversations flitted in and out of her focus. Nobody was bothering her, but that wouldn't last. It couldn't be allowed if she was to get the money she needed. She ran a hand down her face, her pale fingers tracing over her eyebrow piercing, nose stud, and spider bites on the left side. The mic in her hand was getting slippery as her palms dewed with sweat. She had to get on with it before they kicked her out for wasting time.
"Ahem," she called into the mic, pulling a few audience members to her attention, though most remained oblivious. "Hi," more heads turned to face her at the sound of her soft, silky voice vibrating the club's speakers, "I'm here to sing a couple songs for you tonight. I hope you don't mind."
The majority of the crowd faced her now, ready to hear what this young girl could do. Beads of cold sweat raced down her spine, running between her sharp shoulder blades and dampening the orange and aqua curls at the back of her neck. She worked to keep her eyes from staying glued to her shoes, taking a quick sweeping look at the crowd before her. They wanted to hear something, anything. She forced herself to turn toward the mic stand, stool, and beat-up acoustic waiting behind herself. Upon strapping on the guitar and popping the mic into its place, she took in a shaky breath.
"Here goes. This is Hands on the Radio by Chris Garneau." The audience was fairly attentive as she began to strum, but the real reaction occurred as her voice first filtered into the mic.
His head was pounding at the obnoxious level of volume with which his friends joked. Their words all began to blend into one long murmur of sound and their faces became one solid expression of joy. In his current state, he couldn't understand their happiness. The ever-present depression that seemed to haunt him in the last few weeks had clouded his vision so thoroughly that he couldn't quite remember what it felt like to be 'normal'. He only knew that whatever 'normal' was it was not himself, and that he craved it a little bit, if only to get a break from the constant sadness that hung over him like a storm cloud.
"C'mon, Andy!" CC called over his shoulder, pulling Andy out of his thoughts and into reality. He stumbled after the drummer as they made their way into the small club.
The rest of the group was at the bar in a heartbeat, but Andy couldn't make himself do it. He knew he wouldn't, but part of him was screaming to just get shitfaced and forget all of the pain that he couldn't understand. Even with that intriguing idea, his feet drug as he shuffled reluctantly toward the bar. He sat atop a stool and asked for a bottle of water. The bartender looked annoyed, wanting to serve a drink and get a tip, but Andy couldn't care less. His sole focus was getting through this weekend in one piece. He was just anxious to get on with the tour and hoped that getting back to it after their month long break would help him get back on his feet. There was too much noise for such a small area of space, it was making Andy feel increasingly claustrophobic. He excused himself, though the guys took little notice what with their increasing level of alcohol intake, and took the bottle of water with him to find himself a place to smoke.
He found a door that seemed to be appropriate. He was right, upon stepping through he found himself in a quiet ally between the club and a liquor store. Stupid placement for the businesses, he decided, but it didn't matter much to him. He only cared that the cool fall breeze blew through and helped to clear his head. He lit up and leaned against the brick wall near the back corner of the ally, feeling his stomach settle from the chill and his way of alternating between sips of water and drags of nicotine. The pounding in his head was also slowly subsiding. By the time he'd almost finished his cigarette he decided he really didn't want to go back in. His thoughts were interrupted, however, at the sound of shoes hitting the concrete in a rhythmical pattern near the door to the club.
Attached to the sky-high heels, he found a female silhouette pacing. Her hair was curly and her frame was skinny, but he couldn't tell much more from the dark shadow he saw. He watched her round up her strength and throw her fist straight into the metal door of the club. She didn't scream in pain, only huffed out a quick, "Fuck."
Andy tossed the remains of his cigarette to the floor and crunched it with his boot while pushing himself up from the wall. He made his way toward her, to ask if she was okay, but he was too late. She was swinging the door open and stomping inside. He followed her, but quickly lost her in the dense crowd. Near the stage, Andy found that there were chairs sat out, they were designated for some kind of open-mic night although many people seemed to have taken a seat just to give themselves a break from standing, but she wasn't there either. He looked over his shoulder, but she didn't seem to be at the bar, though he did catch sight of his bandmates making trouble there. He chuckled to himself lowly, though it felt forced, everything felt forced to him lately.
Once again, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing loudly above the other sounds. He wasn't sure how no one else noticed it, but they all seemed too busy drinking or dancing or sucking each other's faces. He found the source quickly, there was a small girl walking slowly onto the stage, the girl from before. He hadn't moved far from the chairs so he quickly sat in the chair the furthest from the stage. Something about this girl had captured his attention.
She stepped toward a mic stand and tugged the mic into her hand before stepping close to the front of the stage. Andy watched as she dropped her head, keeping her face hidden in her mass of ginger curls that were dyed a vibrant shade of teal at the bottom and fell to reach mid-thigh in length. Something about her seemed so familiar, he wanted to see her face but she was studiously staring at her feet, kicking them around a bit, and seeming to shake all over. 'Nerves', he thought. It brought a genuine tug of emotion to his heart, the nostalgia of seeing a young performer who was nervous to speak those first words that gained an audience's attention. Andy found that he was the only person who appeared to notice the small girl who'd taken the stage, but it didn't last long. There was a small shuffling sound before she began to speak.
"Ahem. Hi." Her voice was soft and light, it was as if you were being brushed by the tip of a feather. Andy found himself leaning his elbows onto his knees and shifting forward a bit to hear her better, as did a few other guests. She was still well hidden behind her orange bangs and there was a distinct tremor rocking her that indicated she was, in fact, very nervous. "I'm here to sing a couple songs for you tonight, I hope you don't mind."
There were murmured words and a few kind chuckles. She'd quickly captured the attention of more than just Andy. Most of the club watched her intently as she turned toward her set up. She settled in and spoke once more. "Here goes... This is Hands on the Radio by Chris Garneau."
She fingered her guitar shakily for a second before she seemed to get her bearings. Still hidden behind a curtain of curls, the girl began to strum a tune. Andy was enraptured. His every thought was on the small ginger girl with the beat-up, midnight blue guitar. In what seemed a heartbeat's time, she drew in a deep breath and began to sing.
If there was a single person in the club who'd not noticed her, they had now. There was a collective intake of breath from the crowd, as if they all relied on one set of lungs, Andy included. All eyes were now on the girl.
The lyrics were soft, but made into something beautiful by the voice that sang them. Her voice itself was something of a mix between light and breathy, and haunting and deep. It wasn't masculine, nor was it too feminine. Her tone forced your skin to erupt in goosebumps and the hair on your arms to stand on end. As it made your heart race, it also wiped your mind of the daily clutter of life and gave you an all-consuming sense of peace. Her words were also beautiful but they were unimportant, she could be singing anything and it would instantly become a masterpiece.
Much too soon, it was over. She looked up only once, quickly scanning the crowd, before dropping her eyes to her hand as it rested on the fretboard once more. "Thank you," She whispered breathlessly, "I don't mean to keep you much longer, so I'll just do one more song and be out of your hair."
Andy was shocked. She apparently didn't understand the incredible talent she held or the effect it had on the crowd before her. He was even more immersed in questions about this girl. She didn't let him dwell on his thoughts too long, though, before she began to strum again, speaking into the mic softly over the sound.
"This is Vienna, by Billy Joel." She told the club-goers as she played. Her fingers caressed the strings with a gentle fondness, tracing an old pattern she knew so well. In the life she'd been dealt, growing up fast was never a choice but she liked to think she'd retained enough of her innocence to still consider herself a child. She often resented the people and events that had led her to this day, but she enjoyed playing this song to give herself a moment of promise. Promise that there was still so much waiting for her, that her age was still young, and that she could still become the person she wanted to be, she only had to take it one day at a time to get there.
Too soon for her liking, the song was over. Only then did she permit herself to assess the reaction of the audience. They were silent. It was terrifying. She felt her eyes sting with salt water and a lump rise in her throat but she forced herself to keep it in as she glued her eyes back to her guitar. She was here for the money that was required to live, not to have people like her. She couldn't help the fact that it hurt anyway. 'No', she scolded herself, 'Pain is weakness. Don't let them see your weakness.'
The silence was deafening, she felt it pressing against her eardrums with the strength of the universe. It hurt even more.
Just as her hand moved to remove the guitar strap, preparing herself to run off stage, she heard a sound. Not just any sound, either, it was clapping. One person's silhouette stood from their chair. A man. He was clapping for her. There was a second set of hands joining in, and then a third. And then the silence was long-gone, replaced with a roar of applause. Every person who'd been seated was now standing. Her eyes were wide, her mouth only barely staying closed, and her body was frozen. Her vision got blurry, but these were a very different kind of tears. She'd never received such a reaction. This was also the largest crowd she'd ever preformed for, the club was a sort of hole-in-the wall place that got little traffic. She was stunned.
In the crowd, one man still towered above the rest in height, he was the man who'd first clapped. She was eternally grateful to him. She wasn't able to see much until the footlight dimmed. Then she examined him even more, wanting to know what he looked like so that she could thank him later. Tall, skinny, younger looking but still an adult, coal-black hair, tattoos... she didn't see much more before she realized she was staring and it was embarrassing. He noticed her gaze too and smiled at her, but she dropped her eyes after returning a slight grin. She nodded to the crowd as she shrugged out from the guitar and leant it against her stool so she could hop down from her perch. She scooped up the guitar and quickly mumbled a small 'Thanks' into the mic before scurrying off to the back office where she was allowed to keep her instruments.
"Well done, kid." The owner, Jackson, told her as he held open the office door for her. He was young, barely twenty-three, but had inherited this club after his father's death. He was always kind to her, letting her preform when she was obviously underage, still paying her as much as he did any other artist, allowing her to crash on the office's couch on nights when other arrangements weren't possible. He'd become a sort of father/brother figure, though their relationship was always very reserved and remained mainly a business one. He let her hang up her guitar on the wall of them whilst he dove into the desk drawer and handed her an envelope, "Here's your pay."
"Thanks." She smiled at him, wiping off the over-done make up she'd been wearing where it had run with her joyous tears.
"No problem, kiddo." He grinned at her as he stuck his hand into his back pocket and tugged out yet more money. It was a sizable stack, folded in half, and tied with a rubber band. "Here, this is yours too." She raised her pierced brow, and he grinned even wider, "Tips."
"Wow..." She ran her small fingers delicately over the wad of cash. "But," She held it toward him again, "I can't take this. I got my pay, that's more than I should get. It's fine."
He shook his head, forcing the money back into her hands, "You get it all. You work just as hard as any other, if not more. You deserve all that you get in return. You've got talent, kid."
She thanked him with another small smile, tucking all the money into her bag, but stayed quiet after that. She knew he was too kind to her, so she didn't want to seem ungrateful, but she also wasn't good with compliments. Especially ones she felt were ill-placed, such as kind words about her 'talent'. He nodded and headed back out, trusting her enough to be alone in the office. She fell onto the couch, quickly kicking off her heels, changing into some spare clothes she kept in her satchel, and blacking out the second her head hit the armrest.
Andy followed Jack, the rest of the band trailing behind in various states of drunkenness, toward the back. Though he'd prefer to still be searching the crowd for the girl, they'd come to the club in the first place for a reason. Jack was an old friend of Jinxx and Sammi's (Sammi had done the photography at Jack's sister's wedding as a family-friend favor) and had eventually become a friend of the whole band's. They were here to visit him, though Andy still wasn't in any mood to socialize despite the girl who lifted his spirits a bit.
"Just hang on for a sec, I've gotta get my keys from the office." They all nodded at him, following his lead to stay quiet. None of the guys were quite sure why they were whispering and shuffling silently seeing as they were just down the hall from a club that was blaring music at its top volume, but they followed Jack's lead nevertheless. "Here, just stay quiet."
The guys scuttled into the large, dark office cautiously. Jack felt his way toward his desk and flicked on a lamp. It only offered a dim glow, but it was enough for him to search for his keys atop the wrecked desk. The guys didn't move much, they were too startled. Out of the corner of his eye, Andy noticed what caught their attention, as did Jackson.
"That's why we gotta be quiet." Jackson was still searching for his keys in the clutter, "She kicks it here sometimes, she's a pretty heavy sleeper after a show though."
The small girl was curled into herself atop the long, suede couch. Her head was cuddled into the armrest, her legs tugged into her chest where a small, purple stuffed bear was tucked. She was wearing a sweatshirt that was many sizes too large and a pair of basketball shorts, her massive curls were splayed out around her, covering her face while her bangs still lay against her forehead. Her eyelashes fluttered against her pale cheeks, her pouty lips hung open just a bit as light breaths moved her chest.
"She was amazing tonight." Ashley's voice was hushed, but still bursting with amazement. "Who is she?"
"I can't tell you much, I don't know much." Jackson shrugged, coming around the desk with his keys in his hand, his eyes trailing toward her with fondness, "She came in here about a year ago asking for a job, I knew she was underage but I couldn't turn her away. Her mom died when she was young, apparently, and she's been sleeping where there's a flat surface and applying for jobs ever since. Never, though, will she accept a hand-out. Strong willed, hard headed, thick skin, powerhouse of talent, and a heart of gold. Swear to you, you'll never find a kid with a sharper tongue and repertoire of curse words."
"She's a cutie." CC grinned at Jack, but quickly went on at the glare Jackson sent him, "Like Pinch-Your-Cheeks-Cute. She looks like she could be my daughter! Jesus, Jack, I didn't mean it like that."
Jack let it go, albeit reluctantly, and they all chuckled lightly. The girl began to stir a bit, letting out a small groan. Jackson motioned for them to head out while he flipped off the lamp. They all meandered down the hall, now headed for a studio Jackson kept above the club. Jack unlocked the door, letting the guys spill in, and they all took seats on the scattered couch and chairs. The guys got into conversation quickly and lost themselves in their tipsy states, yet Andy couldn't be found a part of it. Instead, he was looking out the window to the garden to the side of the club. He watched the trees sway in the breeze as his thoughts ran free. The girl had seemed so familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. He was so focused on this girl he'd never once spoken to. He couldn’t make any sense of it yet he still knew clearly that he would talk to her. He had to. There was just something about her.
“Andy!” Jake called, forcing Andy’s eyes to leave the beautiful window scene, “C’mon man!”
“Uh,” Andy hesitated, trying to come up with a reason to not be forced to plaster on his now classic fake smile and force his laughter so as not to worry his band mates. At that second, Andy saw something flash by in the garden. Something bright, something like flames. On closer inspection, he saw that there was a girl with red and aqua hair sitting beneath a tree in the far corner of the yard. “Hold up. I need a smoke.”
With that, Andy ducked back down the stairs and tried to find which door lead to that small yard.
Sitting on the damp grass, she felt a breeze ripple through the leaves surrounding her hiding spot. She wished she’d worn something heavier, the sweatshirt she currently donned was one she’d had for years and had gotten second-hand in the first place, it was riddled with holes and the material had been worn thin. A slight shiver rolled down her spine and made her exposed legs erupt in goose bumps. Still, this was her favorite place to think.
She needed to figure out what she would be doing tomorrow night. She couldn’t take up space at Jack’s on a night when she didn’t even work. That would be silly. She could go to the church down the street, the pastor there was a kind man who allowed her to stay some nights. She paid him, obviously, though it was always a battle just to get him to accept her money. He didn’t know her story, she couldn’t tell him for fear he would ‘help’ her into a foster home or orphanage. No one knew much of her life story for that matter. It was too great a risk. She kept her personal ties loose and her lips sealed tight. She’d fended for herself for as long as she could remember, she wasn’t going to stop now just because things were getting a bit more rough. She decided that she’d have enough money, thanks to her pay and the generous tips, to eat a full meal tomorrow and also be able to pay to stay at the church and then have some left to spare.
A sigh fell from her lips as she rolled her shoulders back, stretching a bit. She knew she should try to sleep seeing as it wasn’t every night that she had such a nice place to stay, but her mind was alive with thought. She couldn’t make her train of thought pause long enough to submerge herself in sleep, it just wasn’t possible. Then again she’d trained herself to function without much sleep, she could go for up to four days with only an hour nap in between. Though she was a naturally small girl, she was also extremely skinny what with her infrequent meals, terrible sleeping pattern, and the amount of physical and mental stress that came along with supporting yourself at such a young age. Still she managed to have enough muscle to walk most everywhere she had to go. She was so lost in her thoughts she almost missed the sound of the door to the garden opening. As soon as she realized what it was she darted behind the bush beside her and curled up, waiting for the guest to get on with their business and return to the club. She’d seen more than a fair share of drug deals, drunken sex, and mental breakdowns. You get to see a lot more than you’d think from hidden corners in alleys and crowded hostels, there wasn’t much that scared her anymore. She was surprised, however, to see that the figure came right to where she’d been sitting beneath the tree. Even more so when he called out.
“I know you’re out here, I don’t mean any harm. I saw you preform, I’m a friend of Jack’s too.” His voice was deep, very much so, and seemed to somehow tug at the edges of her memory. His voice was familiar, she just couldn’t discern where from. Still, she’d lived on the streets too long to not be wary, she’d learned that reassuring words were not always spoken from a true heart. “Please, I’d just lake to talk.”
She didn’t even realize what she was doing until she found herself standing and coming around the bush. She stood right behind him, one hand outstretched toward his shoulder high above, he was extremely tall and she was exceptionally short, especially since she’d ditched her heels for her only other pair of shoes-- an old, beat up pair of Docs. She hesitated, her fingers only inches away from the shoulder of his black leather jacket. At the last second, her mind caught up with her body and she yanked her hand back and began to move away from him. She stumbled, though, as her head was spinning a bit due to her hunger. He heard and spun to reach out and grab her hand, stopping her from falling.
Once she’d steadied herself, she politely nodded to him and retrieved her hand from his grasp. He looked a mix of disappointed, relieved, curious, tired, sad, and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. He also looked familiar. She dropped her eyes and promised herself to avoid eye contact with him, remaining hidden a bit by her bangs that were quickly growing too long and hung in her eyes. Just then, it hit her.
“You were in the crowd. You clapped.” She wanted to slap her hand over her mouth but it was too late, her silly words had slipped through.
He chuckled a bit, though it didn’t seem fully genuine, and smiled at her kindly. “I was. Though I don’t think I was the only one who clapped.”
“No. But you were the first.” Again, she spoke without thinking. She attributed it to her sleep-deprived, hunger-driven, overwhelmed brain.
“That I was,” He grinned a bit more genuinely, “Why are you out here alone? I thought you were sleeping?”
“How– How did you know that?” She began to step back again, worried that she’d been right to be wary of him.
“I’m a friend of Jack’s, we had to go in the office and we saw you.” He looked to her apologetically, hoping he didn’t scare her off before he’d gotten a chance to really talk with her, “Sorry if I scared you earlier, just popping out here and all.”
“I don’t scare that easily.” Her words were light, offhand, cool. But it sparked something in Andy nonetheless. Those words, those lips, that nose, that hair. It was too familiar. He could feel his mind working hard, trying to remember her.
“Have we met before?” He didn’t mean to sound creepy, he could feel himself redden a bit.
“I was wondering the same thing...” She raised one eyebrow at him, the one that he could see was pierced, and her lips twitched at the side, almost smiling but not quite. He could now see her face-to-face, but his curiosity to know her hadn’t died down, only increased. He still couldn’t place where he knew her.
“Do you know how I am?”
“Should I?” She looked equally affronted and truly wondering.
“I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” He found himself at a loss for words around this kid, constantly feeling as though he wasn’t doing enough to keep her entertained with their conversation, constantly worried she’d grow bored and leave. He wasn’t sure why but the prospect of her leaving was very upsetting to him. “I thought maybe you were a fan, maybe we’d met at a signing or something...”
“Sorry, but I don’t know you.” She seemed honestly disheartened to not know him. Like she’d been just as curious about this odd sense of deja vu they had. “So... I guess we’ll never know.”
He shrugged, not knowing what else to say. “You never answered me, what are you up to all alone out here?”
She was still keeping her distance but something in her open expression made him feel as if she couldn’t help but feel the same strange sense of comfort that he noticed in her presence. “I wanted to think. Couldn’t sleep.”
He nodded, understanding perfectly well what that felt like. He’d pretty much been living on Monsters and Red Bulls lately. She stood the toes of her let boot atop the scuffed top of her right, clearly feeling as weird as Andy did at this moment. She had yet to make eye contact, always finding something else interesting enough to look at while they talked. At the moment she was examining the sleeve of her hoodie where a small hole had been worn or cut in just the right spot, allowing her to stick her thumb through, the other sleeve matched. He took a moment to really look at her. She looked much younger now than she had on stage. Her earlier outfit was rather risqué and had made her seem more physically mature, he figured that had been the point. Currently he could tell that she was very short, only coming up to his elbow, and beyond skinny. The bones of her knees and wrists were clearly apparent, as were her collar bones. Yet her face had managed to retain a childish roundness, making her innocence blatantly clear now that her features were clean of gaudy make up. She must have felt his gaze on her as her head raised to meet his. Instantly they were both stock-still.
There was something odd about each other that kept their look locked. Eyes. Their eyes. Andy looked at this small girl and saw his own eyes reflected perfectly back to him. Icy blue, reflecting the light of the club’s flickering Open sign, deep and entrancing. They were much more beautiful when fit with her features, he decided, than they looked with his. Suddenly he saw that her eyes, the ones that were so much like his own, appeared glassy. She was about to cry. He panicked, not knowing how to help. For some unknown reason the thought of her crying was deeply saddening to him. He’d seen plenty of girls cry, between excited fans and a loving mother and fiancee. But never had he felt so intensely petrified of seeing salty water pooling in another’s eyes. She dropped her head and he watched as she chewed on her lip and spider bites. She was trying not to cry. He didn’t know how to help.
“I should go.” She moved toward the door, skirting around Andy and managing to avoid brushing by him at all.
“Wait! Wait.” He almost reached out to grab her but stopped himself short, dropping his arm to his side again, for fear it would scare her further. “Stay a minute. Please. I really don’t want to have to go back up there.”
She froze, her back still facing him, and seemed to debate it. Just as he was sure she was leaving anyway, she turned a fraction of an inch toward him and spoke in a voice that was nearly a whisper, “Why not?”
“Honestly?” He wasn’t sure why but he was suddenly able to explain all the things he’d been unable to admit to even himself previously. “I don’t know. I love the guys up there, they’re my family, but I cannot stand the idea of being within a mile of them right now. They are constantly trying to make me smile or be ‘the old me’ but I just can’t do it. I can’t. I wish I could, for them and for myself, but its becoming near impossible. I don’t feel. At all. I smile when I think I should and laugh when I can tell I’m supposed to but I can’t remember the last time I actually felt. Actually, I take that back. There is one thing I feel... this intense emptiness. This all-consuming loneliness. I don’t understand it. I have every reason to be happy right now. My dreams are coming true before my eyes and yet I can’t even muster up an ounce of happiness about it. I know it sounds crazy, I know you’re probably about to run right back in there and think you just escaped the clutches of some mad man but it’s the best explanation I have for what’s going through my head.”
She was still, completely statuesque. He was afraid he’d only scared her more, said too much, but he couldn’t have stopped his words even if he’d wanted to. Slowly, painfully slowly, she turned toward him again, keeping her eyes on her shoes, and walked his way. She passed him though, which confused him, until he saw her sit once again beneath the tree, just beside his feet. She peeked up through her curtain of curls and then reached out, tugging on the leg of his black skinny jeans, signaling him to sit down. She was so quiet. It was unnerving to Andy, who felt as though he’d just bared his soul to a stranger who had no words of consolation. Even so, he sat beside her, following her lead and leaning back against the tree’s trunk. She cast her eyes into the sky, looking at the stars, and he did the same, just for the sake of having somewhere to look.
“I...” Her voice was even softer than before, so quiet that Andy almost missed it, “I understand.”
He wasn’t sure what to say, how could a child understand this constant depression? That couldn’t be possible. At her age(or what he guessed her age to be), though he’d seen enough of the world’s hate and sadness, he still had high hopes and looked around himself in wonder and awe. Children were supposed to have that view of the world that you yearn for once you reach adulthood. No child should have to feel what he was feeling. Fuck, he was nearly thirty and he didn’t think it was fair to feel as he did.
“I’m sure you’re wondering how anyone, let alone a kid, could understand. Right now you feel so isolated. Yes, you’ve heard people talk about ‘depression’ before but you imagine they never felt it as heavily as you do. There’s no way anyone could feel this way and still function that long. Surely. Well, you’re wrong. You aren’t alone. No matter how bad it gets someone else has it worse, as unbelievable as that may seem.”
Again, Andy was at a loss for words. She hit the nail on the head with every word. He did feel isolated. All of it was spot on. He broke his eyes from the stars that he used to find so fascinating to look down at her. Her eyes were closed, her face turned toward the sky, as she leaned back against the tree and wrapped her arms around her legs which were pinned to her chest. She looked so sad, yet so peaceful. It was a heartbreaking sight. More than anything, she looked tired. Not just physically but within as well. The kind of tired that can’t be slept away. The kind of tired he was beginning to feel himself. He understood now why someone would say they wished to fall asleep and never wake up. It wasn’t just the desire to die, it was a desire to rest. To rest peacefully for eternity, because you feel so internally exhausted that sleeping forever seems the only way you could ever feel yourself again. He wanted that, but he didn’t want her to want that.
“Your body could sleep for days and you’re still tired, despite the fact that you can never manage to get to sleep in the first place. You eat everything in sight and you’re still hungry, though you really didn’t find food appealing to begin with. You cry for hours and yet you still have more tears to shed, though you also feel no sadness at all. Someone makes a joke and you laugh and laugh but you feel as though you could laugh until your sides split and still not be done, yet you don’t feel any happiness or amusement to cause this fit. You go places and see new things and wander the streets yet you still feel like there’s somewhere you’re headed that you don’t know how to get to, even though you hate the idea of leaving your bed at all. You smoke a cigarette and another and another, the calm goes through your body but your mind just wont be still, yet it is empty of thoughts altogether. You end a call with a family member or friend by saying ‘love you’, however you aren’t sure you mean it because the words are automatic and are supposed to be said, you feel guilty for even considering not meaning it, but you just can’t honestly feel love for them. You talk until you’re blue in the face and have no more voice but you still have more to say and you still can never find the right words anyway. To top it all off, there’s the fact that while all of this is so confusing you still can’t take the time to sort through it all because you’re so busy just trying to make it through the day without falling apart, though part of you is almost craving some kind of breakdown because at least you’d know you were still human and could still have emotions. All in all you’re upset about it but you can’t seem to find the part of you that still feels enough to be upset so as to shut it off too. You hate what is happening but your thoughts are so jumbled and you’re hurting so much that you can’t imagine unlocking ‘the old you’ because the idea of experiencing any more pain than you already do is absolutely terrifying. So you hate your numbness but you’re grateful for it too because the idea of feeling anything at all is equally traumatic. You see that I understand yet you still feel alone, because you feel as though the things I’ve described only scratch the surface of all of the pain and emptiness you feel.”
Her words were like needles or nails, each one stabbing into his skin and sending a mixture of pain and shock. By the same token, each thing she said made him feel a little less empty, a little less alone, though an all-encompassing loneliness still weighed heavy in his heart. She understood. She actually understood. It was equally comforting and saddening. No one, especially a child, should have to understand this, no matter how grateful he was for knowing he wasn’t just going crazy. He wasn’t sure still what to say, so he simply said the only thing he could think. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ve been there.” She muttered something else but he couldn’t quite make out the words, he didn’t ask because he figured she’d have said it clearly if she wanted him to hear it.
In a moment of silence, something struck him as he was letting her words soak in. “Hold up a sec,” She didn’t open her eyes, but she turned her chin toward him a bit, directing him to go on, “How’d you know about the cigarette thing?”
She chuckled dryly, not with any hint of actual amusement, “I’m not sure what you want me to say to that when the answer is fairly obvious.”
“But...” Andy was thoroughly confused, she looked so damn young, “How old are you then?”
“Why do you want to know?” She cracked her eyes open a bit and gave him a sassy smirk.
“So I can know how angry I should be about your habit.” He smirked right back, though the smile never touched either of the pair’s matching eyes.
“Eleven.”
“ELEVEN?” He was shocked. Granted, he’d assumed she was young, but not that young. What with her clothes earlier, mature way of carrying herself, and the fact that she smoked he’d assumed she was at least a teenager.
“Isn’t that what I just said? I could swear I was speaking english...” She was sarcastic, dry, and still a bit sassy. Andy was having a hard time staying appropriately enraged, she was just too cute.
“Why the fuck do you smoke then? How do you even get cigarettes at that age?” He was too caught up in his shock to realize that he sort of already knew the answer to the second question at least, after all he’d grown up a bit of a rebel himself.
“Why do you smoke?” she countered.
“Cause I’m addicted. And I like it. But I’m an adult so I’m allowed to like it. You, on the other hand, are much too young to be allowed.”
“I’m going to ignore the ignorance of that statement, seeing as age is only a number and I’m fairly certain I am more mature than most people your age, and answer your other question. It’s easy. Swipe ‘em. Bum ‘em. Or just flirt with the cashier.”
She was so cavalier about it, Andy couldn’t help the small part of him that was impressed and strangely proud of her rebellious nature. “You’re eleven.”
“I thought we made that clear earlier? Are you a little on the slow side?” She now looked at him with open curiosity and a bit of teasing.
“I meant... you’re eleven. How do you even know how to flirt?”
“God, how old are you?” She rolled her eyes the way only a pre-teen can, “It can’t have been that long since you were my age. Surely you aren’t laboring under the delusion that eleven year olds are still playing with Barbies and Hot Wheels.”
“Hey, I’m not that old!” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest like a toddler, pouting.
“Well, you know how old I am... so I should get an answer in return.”
“Aren’t kids supposed to not ask adults their age?” Andy quirked up an eyebrow, avoiding giving an answer simply to annoy her.
“That’s only for menopausal women and balding men who are embarrassed to admit it,” she challenged. “Are you so elderly that you’re embarrassed to admit your age? I guess I was right in thinking you were probably wearing skinny jeans out of desperation for your youthful years.”
“Hey hey! No hating the jeans!” He knocked his elbow against her shoulder softly, making both of them laugh. She stuck her tongue out at him, making something glint and catch Andy’s eye. He shot his hand out fast, catching her tongue between his fingers, shocking them both a bit. He examined her tongue and found his suspicions to be correct. She looked at him strangely, taking her tongue back between her pierced lips as soon as he released her. “You have your tongue pierced too.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. One to which there was no real response. “Yeah, so? Is this your new way of avoiding my question?”
“I’m twenty-eight.” He shrugged, finally giving in.
“Ha! You’re ancient!” She giggled a bit and seemed surprised at herself, she quickly stopped laughing and looked to her hands quickly.
“One: I AM NOT! Two: it’s okay to laugh you know, I won’t bite.” Andy could feel himself relaxing into a comfortable banter with her and he was relieved. It’d been a while since he really tried to make conversation with someone new, someone he didn’t already know or who wasn’t a fan who already ‘knew’ him.
“Hmph. You may not bite but if you grab my tongue again I might just have to.” She replied cattily, still not seeming as into it. She’d retreated back into her shell, it disappointed Andy a bit and he immediately felt as though it was his fault. A wave of guilt washed over him.
He was trying to think of something to make her smile, which had suddenly become the most important thing to him, when he saw her shiver. On closer inspection he saw holes all throughout her sweatshirt and shorts, exposing her pale skin covered in goose bumps. He leaned off the tree and shrugged out of his leather jacket.
“Here.” He offered it to her but she shook her head. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
She gave in with a sigh, rolling her ice blue eyes again. Once she’d stuck her arms through the sleeves, which had to be bunched up so that they didn’t hang way past her hands, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned into the tree once more. Andy could feel the chill now that he was only in his white tank with the sleeves cut so low that they exposed all of his ribs on either side, but he wasn’t much bothered by it. It was a nice break from the sweaty air he’d endured inside the club. It also made him feel alive, for just a second. He glanced over to see her with one hand stuck into his jacket pocket, he was caught between shock and outrage versus amusement and curiosity. He decided it was more the latter as he saw her pull out his cigarette box and a silver lighter.
“Ah ah ah,” He swooped in and snatched the stick she’d put between her lips, leaving her with a small pout, “Not on my watch kid.”
He grabbed the lighter too and lit up the cigarette for himself, taking a long drag and blowing it out of the corner of his mouth, trying to keep the smoke away from her since he knew how much smelling second-hand could make you crave one yourself.
“Oh, so you’re that kind of adult.” She folder her arms back over her chest and rolled her eyes yet again.
“Excuse me, what kind of adult would that be?” Andy’s voice was slightly sarcastic.
“You know. That kind. The hypocrite. The one who tells you not to swear until they are on the phone with their co-workers and it’s ‘Fuck this’ and “Fuck that’ while they mutually complain about their asshole boss. They tell you sex is bad and to stay pure when they fucked in the back of a truck after their eighth grade dance. The one who says it’s bad to drink but then they are drunk off their ass on cheep beer and wine when their friends come over. That one.”
“I protest.” Andy sat up a bit, genuinely upset by that accusation. “I hated those adults too when I was your age. But when you get older you realize that most of the time they’re just trying to help, in their own fucked up way. Besides, I don’t give a fuck if you curse.”
She reached over and snatched the lighter, quickly dipping into the box and pulling out a fresh cigarette which she bit and lit. Distantly, Andy noticed that the hand she used to hold her cigarette was also the hand she’d punched the door with, as evidenced by the slight bruising scattering the split skin on the knuckles of her left hand, so she was a lefty. She raised an eyebrow at him as she sucked in a deep breath and blew it out of her nose. “I’ve taken care of myself for eleven or so years, I think I can handle it pretty well.” She placed the lighter back in Andy’s hand and leaned against her spot on the tree. Andy was unsure how to react, feeling equal amounts guilt and pity. She flicked her cigarette between her fingers, letting the ashes sprinkle the grass below her, and glanced toward him. He quickly tried to lean back against the tree trunk and look busy but they both knew he’d been caught. “Don’t feel pity for me. I hate pity. I’ve done damn well, better than I would’ve been had I stayed put in my old life, and I don’t need people feeling bad for me.”
“I agree, I think you’re a pretty cool kid.” He grinned down at her with half his mouth, the other half holding onto his cigarette while taking another long drag. “Still doesn’t mean I condone your smoking.”
She rolled her eyes, she did that quite a lot he noticed, and waved her free hand dismissively, her other flicking more ashes to the ground before taking another hit.
He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, mocking her lightly, to which she laughed a bit. “So,” He spoke, blowing smoke into the toxic air surrounding their tree, “What’s your name anyway?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She kept her eyes on her cigarette as smoke twisted from the end, curling into swirly patterns.
“Exactly. That’s why I asked. And you call me slow.”
She chuckled again but still gave no response to his inquiry. As she took a final drag, she stubbed the stick against the bark of the tree and tossed the remainder of the cigarette into the bushes behind them. “Well,” She began to slip out of his jacket, tucking his box back into its original pocket and handing the whole thing to Andy, “I’d better go to sleep. Or, bed anyway. Long day tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah?” Andy stood up, offering her a hand and tugging her to her feet as well, “What’s tomorrow?”
“Sunday?” She looked at him strangely. Suddenly, he got it. Every day was a big day for her. Every day was a struggle and a battle in itself.
“Right.” He let the subject drop, tugging his jacket back on and following her to the door. They entered and were instantly surrounded by a loud bass that shook the walls and made their ears ring. As they reached the office again, Andy caught her from going in, “You’re staying here tonight, right?”
“Uh,” She looked at him funny again, “Obviously.”
“Cool.” He turned to go but this time she stopped him.
“Why’d you ask?” She sounded suspicious. He wondered what it must be like to live in constant fear of every person around you and what their intentions might be.
“We are too. Our tour bus is parked in the lot across the street.” He smiled sadly at her, “I’m not saying I like it, but if you are out for a smoke then stop by, I’d like to hang again.”
She didn’t really give him an answer, only shrugged and smiled a bit too before turning toward the office again. “Night...” She trailed off, not knowing his name.
“I’m Andy.” He smiled more kindly, which she still only halfheartedly returned.
“Night, Andy.”
“Night...” His voice petered out too, waiting for her name.
She grinned and there was an evil glint in her eyes, “Night.” Was all she said before disappearing into the large, oak room once more.
As the door fell shut behind her, Andy chuckled to himself. That kid was something else. He was so invested in this kid he’d only seen tonight, and she’d already made him smile and laugh more honestly than he’d done in weeks. He had a true smile plastered on his lips as he mounted the stairs to the studio appartment, ready to face his friends now that he’d had a moment of some sense of normalcy. Even though the heavy weight on his shoulders was still clearly there, he finally felt like he could get through tonight without wanting to curl up and disappear. He could do this, thanks to that mysterious little girl.
Notes
Hello again,I hope you're enjoying what you read if you're taking time out of your lives to read this. I know it's not perfect and might get a little confusing but I hope you'll bear with me and see it grow into something more.
So, what did you think? Hope you liked it. In case you were confused this chapter, and most of the story on (barring a few noted exceptions) take place roughly 12 years from the time of the first one. Thanks.
Thank You to:
Lilith Koehler
Red Girl
Until next time,
MM
Update!
8/18/16