For the neighbours

Throughout high school he gulped drugs, smoozed alcohol and slept with any girl he could find, then every girl he couldn’t find either. It was normal for him, normal for people to expect that of him. He was just above average at school, turned his head at drugs, only had the occasional chug and never fooled around with anyone. That’s what he liked to tell himself, but knew it was all bullshit. George was the one everyone noticed. He hated that, he hadn’t being noticed by anyone. He didn’t mind that the first thing everyone thought when they saw him was wheezer, but what he did mind was that everyone immediately knew what to think when they saw him. He had dug himself into this hole, and there was no way to get. He didn’t want out, he liked the way everything moved, he liked the way he could think anything of anyone.

One night came, and he found himself at a party, as anyone might really. He had no idea what drugs he had already had, the first drink had been forgotten from his mind in a gulp and the only thing that held his attention was the girl. Her name was Melody. That’s what he called her in his head at least, because he imagined her voice like a melody. She was sidling next to him, just as drunk as he was.

“Heya buddy.”

“Hey.”

“What’s ya name?”

“George.”

She stopped, looked over at him. Her eyes moved, as if trying to really see through them. “George,” she swirled between her teeth.

“Yeah.”

“You’re George.”

Wheezer.

She got up, stumbled for a moment. “I’m not f*****g you tonight.”

He grabbed her arm, feeling his nails dig unconsciously into her skin. “Why not?”

She smiled, leaned in close. He could smell her perfume; it smelled like jasmine, it was probably lavender.

“Cause I don’t want to go on that list.”

He let her go and fell back onto the couch. Now people didn’t want to be thought of having anything to do with him. He was known.

Perhaps it was two days later when he decided to change, perhaps it was sixteen years, perhaps three hundred decades, he never really knew.

 

“What’s your name?”

“Trixie.”

“Is that your real name?”

“It’s what I go by.”

“Did your parents give it to you?”

“My parents gave me a name fit for a princess.”

“So not Trixie?”

“I have a princess’s name.”

“Which is?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I’m sure it is, and what is it?”

“Like the sea, or the ocean more like. So many more possibilities for the future.”

“Do you remember your name?”

“It’s very beautiful.”

 

I want to feel that emptiness in stomach, not the gut that hangs out. I want to know that nothing is in there, and not have to put anything in there. I want a lot of things, just like I wanted to be famous, and a writer too. I don’t want either of those things anymore, but I want this. Give it a few years, I won’t want it anymore. Just a few years, then I won’t need to feel nothing.

 

She’s being called. It’s someone just behind her; she turns, and sees no one looking at her. She hears it again; they’re not calling her name, just her. She spins, but there’s only the people pushing through on their daily routes. She wants to call out, but she doesn’t know what to call out to. Someone wants her, yet both of them are flailing.

 

The narwhal cracked

The rain it slacked

As once upon a winter’s eve

The little witch cacked.

 

He’s playing piano in the lounge room. I can hear it as it slips past the closed door and down the hall, finally ending sliding through into my room. It’s a hymn I think, he likes to play hymns. It’s a beautiful sounds that floats to my ears. I close my eyes, and I just want to dance and be swept away. He falters, many times, he is just learning. But it doesn’t break the aura that reaches me ears. 

 

I’m looking into the neighbour’s yard. Here, from my room, I can see their balcony, the room within. They’re moving around, I don’t know what they’re doing, just that they’re doing something. The man looks up, I know that he has seen me. I don’t move my body, I don’t move my eyes. “C’mon Julia, haven’t you found it yet?” I pretend I’m looking across my yard. From here, the man wouldn’t be able to see the whole space. “Oh look, over there, no no by the tree, no, left, left. Stop. Down, down.” I’m waving my hand down. “Right there.” I smile, turn, and swing off my chair disappearing from his view. A few moments later I’m back, coming through the yard. By the fence I pause. “Took you awhile Julia.” Through the cracks I can see the man has gone. I slip back across the yard and pause in the hallway. A few moments later I return to my desk, ignoring the window.

 

“Orange.”

“Yes?”

“Do you wish you ever had a different name?”

“No. I like my name.”

“But why, you’re named after a fruit.”

“Because of who gave it to me.”

“But do you like it because you like it?”

“Yes. Do you like your name?”

“It’s a name for a princess.”

“Even a princess doesn’t have to like their name.”

“It’s very beautiful.”

 

He had to run, and run fast he did. It appeared that way at least, as his legs sprinted in such a hurried movement that his arms couldn’t seem to keep up, instead swinging in wild movements around him. When he looked back, he saw that he had barely gained two feet, but when he turned a few minutes later, he found that he had run miles. What could this be that was happening to him he thought to himself. Must there be something odd going on along this small path. As he came to his destination a solution came to his head. Of course the running takes longer in the mind when one is more tired, and the steps more rugged; but when the end is in sight, it spurs the limbs to turn into something faster than an eagle.

So he got to his place, and turned around, facing what he was running from.

“Gotcha.” The little girl slapped playfully at his leg.

He picked her up and swung her half-up, tired from the run. “Are you sure?”

She slapped him again on the shoulder. “Yes.”

He laughed and she easily brought forward her own glee. “I guess you did.”

“Can we play again?”

“No come on, we’ve got to get back. You run too fast you know, you made me run too far for my legs.”

“I can race you back.”

He sighed. “Only if I get a head start.” And he sprinted off, followed by the little girl in his wake.