It's Beautiful And So Are You.

I lay watching the thin ribbons of smoke rise and twirl like dancers, the sunbeam glow from the open window lending a warm yellow tint, making the room appear as if seen through a sepia lens. From the bed I could see the profile of her face as she lit another cigarette and sat at her computer typing a break up letter to her poor young lover and I thought about how he was probably sitting at his own computer a few suburbs away thinking about her with a smile on his face, none the wiser to the crushing sensation she was about to bring down upon him like she always did because she grew bored so quickly. I let my neck roll to the other side and relaxed my gaze out the window, watching the thin spindly branches gently rise and fall with each breath of wind. I could hear children playing somewhere. I could hear the tram pull up at the stop on the corner, I could hear people get off and on, I could hear the slap of their sandals on the warm pavement and the rattling of car keys and the whir of bike wheels and the raucous laughter of teens finishing school. I thought about going home soon and my own cold bed on the other side of Melbourne and I thought about how I hadn’t been to school in a long time and I wondered how far the shadows would stretch when the sun went down and how I wanted to stay right where I was and not face the shadows in my own home.

I turned to see what she was doing in time to watch her meticulously drop the needle down into the second grove of the first record of the White Album.  She pushed all the photos that I’d been looking at earlier off the bed so that she could lie down next to me, and we sung along to Dear Prudence and it was one of those nice moments that I knew I’d remember for a long time. We burst out laughing when we tried to hit that high note but both couldn’t. She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, then pulled me up and we danced out of her bedroom and into her lounge room, clapping our hands and laughing and beating out the drum beats onto inanimate objects and standing on the couch with our arms orchestrating the guitar solos. When Glass Onion came on she leaped back to the turntable and lifted the needle because she knew I didn’t like that song. She made tea and handed me my mug while I stood on the balcony and watched the shadows grow like the evolution of plant life in fast forward until the whole street was in darkness save for the spots of false light from the street lamps, and a yellow glow that still lingered on the horizon behind the skyscrapers of the city. Their form was altered by the brightness behind them and they appeared to taper, like the delicate fingers of an innocent child.

‘How does this sound?’ She called out from behind me.

I turned where I stood and leaned against the railing, while she stood inside between the two balcony doors, feet slightly apart, strand of hair hanging over face, lipstick perfectly intact, cigarette in one hand and printed out break up letter in the other. Behind her was darkness and yet she glowed with the reflection of the street lamp light, like a lighthouse beam through dark dense fog. She read aloud.

‘Dear Lucas. I’m sorry about what happened last weekend regarding your sister and her puppy, please know that I never meant for anyone’s feelings to be hurt. I can only hope you know me well enough to know that I take no enjoyment in hurting anyone’s feelings, especially not yours.’ She paused and took a drag, exhaled, then continued.

‘You have a kind heart and a good soul, you are a good person, and right now I am not strong enough to nurture you into the young man I know you will be – instead I am dragging you down with my own woes and worries, which you don’t deserve. I don’t think we should see each other anymore, but I will always hold the memory of this time we shared with dear fondness, I have learnt a lot from you. Take care. Ex Oh Ex Oh.’

She looked up with her eyebrows raised and grinned at me, and I smiled back, nodding my head, she had certainly improved as a writer.

‘It’s really good! It’s really nice. It’s beautiful. Perfect’. I said.

‘Yay! I’m sure he’ll take it well; he’s a nice boy. Shame, really. Let’s go get dinner.’

She threw me my shoes one at a time and I perched on the arm of the couch doing my laces, the light almost entirely gone now. She flicked on the lamps and fairy lights and the apartment felt warm and safe and familiar.

‘Stay here again tonight?’ She asked, standing in front of the lamp on the kitchen counter, her face shrouded in darkness and the glow of the light illuminating the flyaway hairs haloing her head. I nodded and we left.