Page 9 of All That Remains
He tossed me a mildly incredulous lookbefore muttering: "Dad is Dad."
I wanted to make him laugh, anxious to kill the silence wafting between us like a tide. The record had run its course, stifling the mood. Time felt suspended. He was growing bored of me. Probably wondering why he’d even bothered. Someone laid on a car horn for several moments outside before furiously peeling off. We looked at each other and laughed.
Why didn't things flow? Neither of us were at ease. I always thought seeing him again would be easy, but it wastremendously awkward. Like I’d never known him to begin with. Did he remember so little of us? Did he even want to remember us? Did the past matter? I couldn't tell if he was genuinely enjoying me or whether he was just being polite. Fuck’s sake,I'd rather he degrade me than treat mecivilly.
"Rome...?" I began, unsure of what I even wanted to say.
He lifted his brows, indicating I should continue. I wanted to tell him he had no idea how many songs I’d written about him, but his phone rang.
"Need to get that?" I asked. "I won't mind."
"I’ll call ‘em back.” He silenced it.
Before we could resume our conversation, the phone blared again. It was face-down on the seat, so the caller remained a mystery. He didn't bother to look. I watched what appeared to be an iPhone 8 flicker in the darkness, the light pooling onto the seat in bright flashes.
“Can’t believe you have your phone set to ring. Mate, that’s so geriatric—”
That got a real laugh out of him. The streetlight stopped short of the car, so it barely illuminated his hands, or the dips and curves of his features, or the half-smoked cigarette in the makeshift ashtray along the door. I could already imagine him relighting it as he pulled away, regretting the conversation we'd had.
"You write anythin’?" he asked, laying his head back against the seat and gazing over at me. I did the same, audaciously facing him—trying to catch my breath. This was far more intimate than I intended. He only gazed deeper, aware of how narcotic his stare could be.Say something. Anything.His brow furrowed, daring me to keep our eyes locked. As though he sensed my irrational longing, but was too much of a gentleman to expose it.He’s won. He’s already won.My stomach flipped and I looked away, unable to withstand the directness of his scrutiny.
"You mean music?” I grasped at thin air. “Have I written any music?"
"Yeah, I meant music. You were always writin' before."
"Loads, yeah."
"Anythin' new?"
"Somuch, actually. Years’ worth."
"Anythin' you might put out?"
I faced the ceiling and fought to catch a full breath, mortified by the struggle. "A few. Mainly about the last two years...stuff that's still coming to me."
"That's the hardest part, innit? Choosin’ which to keep. Sussin’ out what’s rubbish. Decidin’ what to save for a better time…y’know, when certain things ought to be said. Most of the time I’m just airin’ out old thoughts. Ended up with nearly a hundred songs."
"Exactly…"
We sat in silence, watching the driver take a call at the hood of the car.
"You listen to the lyrics?" he asked, voice quiet but firm. He was referring to his debut single. That was clear.
"Yeah, I listened."
"Good..."
Thatgoodmade my stomach drop. I played it cool. He was cluing me in to something, and I couldn't bear to process it while still in his presence. He’d caught me totally off-guard, and the revelation hit like a jab to the sternum.
"Y’know, I was thinkin’…” he continued. “Writin’ feels like the only real outlet for everythin' that…transpired, shall we say?" I couldn't tell if he meant us or the band. I think he meant us. "Just like...thoughts and opinions and memories."
I zeroed in on his rings, nodding. The mannish rose that had split my lip. Remembered the bloodshed and searing agony. The other boys would’ve gotten a kick out of knowing I’d been the first to see him again. And in the span of ten minutes at his side, was ready to risk it all. Witless moth to a blaze.
Suddenly his sidekick appeared, picking up a conversation from before she left the car. We broke eye contact like it was the original sin. Like we’d been caught unclothed. He said it was good to see me.
"Yeah…cheers, mate," I uttered, then watched a long while as their taillights faded from view.
5
