Page 56 of All That Remains
“Haven’t learned that yet, I guess.”
“Mate, you change cars like girls changehandbags."
“This is true." I bit my lip. Realizing how well he still knew me made me flush all over.
"C'mon in."
He led me between two oversized urns and into the main lounge. He forgot his coffee on the hood, but I’d grabbed it and sipped mine along the way. Out of respect for the polished concrete floor, I kicked my boots off inside.
"Want some slippers or somethin'?"
"I'm good, thanks."
"Mind your step, alright?"
"Will do."
He didn't want me to slip. Hadn't changed a bit in that regard. I grew nostalgic, remembering he was always the first person to run to me whenever I fell on stage.
As I registered the living room, nothing seemed intimidating anymore. Nothing unfamiliar. I got an overwhelming sense I'd been there before; and instead of ridiculing me, everything welcomed me with a resoundingwarmth.
The decor was minimalist to the point of being bare—almost boring. Except for the rooms he’d taken pains to renovate, like the master suite and recording studio.
"Mate, this is sick."
"Think so?"
"I love it. Very 60s."
"Fanks," he grinned, shrugging a bit. "Took sum gettin' used to."
"What's not to like? It's nothing like the place in London, from what I can see."
"No, not at all. And nothin' like me mum's either. Just a different sort of vibe.”
I rejoiced that we were alone. No other guests or roommates present. That took a load off. I didn't have to acquaint myselfwith new faces or be concerned with them interpreting my body language around him.
The place was moderately sized. Later I learned it was a 4,000-square-foot compound, situated just shy of a solid acre. During a brief tour, which we embarked on with lots of laughter and reminiscing, I learned he’d built a sound studio in the garage when he first moved in, even before he updated the bedrooms. He’d also renovated the kitchen with exposed brick and updated all the appliances.
"M'favorite place," he muttered as we entered a dark, oblong room. There was an explosive galaxy painted on the ceiling. The walls were deep purple, contributing to an immersive effect. It was also windowless, so when he shut the door, the only source of light fell from the luminescent art.
"Unreal..." I breathed, gazing at the ceiling. "Who did it?"
"Some cheeky bloke I met downtown at an art show. Talented as fuck." He stared up as though he hadn’t seen it before. "It almost reminds me of...what d'you call them things? With the fish?"
"A tank?"
"No, uh…the aquarium."
"Oh yeah, I see it now. It surrounds you…"
"Exactly."
"Ever smoke in here?" I asked, noticing the two giant bean bags and a small coffee table at the far end of the room. I could also smell traces of his latest session. He hesitated before allowing a knowing grin.
"How can I not? What else would it be for?” We laughed. “When I'm really fucked up—and I mean, like,trippin' balls, bro, I lay in the middle of the floor there and pretend the walls are closin’ in on me. It's surreal. Kinda unnerving."
"Well now I've gotta try that," I laughed.
