I Know Places

"So where do we hide?"

The words were out of his mouth even before I reached his side.

"What?" I asked.

"Where do we hide?"

"Uhh..." I said looking around, completely at a loss.

"When we get caught, where do we hide?" He said, enunciating every word as if talking to an extremely slow 7 year old.

I rolled my eyes as I understood. This was one of his favourite lines of conversation.

"We're not going to get caught."

"You don't know that. What if we do?"

"We won't." I said confidently, not feeling as confident in my bones.

"But what if we do?"

I narrowed my eyes. "It seems to me as if you want us to get caught."

"Of course not." He chuckled. "I'm just keeping myself mentally prepared. What if someone you know sees us together?"

The possibility of that happening terrified me to the extent that I almost turned around and walked away from him right then.

"I'll pretend like I'm not who they think I am."

"You have pretty much aced that skill."

I looked up at his laughing eyes and the humour in them dissolved any offence I might have taken.

"I'll pretend like I don't know them."

"What if they call out?"

"I'll pretend not to hear."

"And if they come up to us?"

"They won't."

"They won't. But what if they do?"

"Then I'll act as normal as possible minus the furtive glances, the awkward smile and the wringing hands."

"And what if they ask about me?"

"This is a really boring game, Adam."

"What will you say then?"

"I'll introduce you. I'll tell them the truth."

"Which is...?"

I smiled, inwardly and outwardly. He had a habit of wanting to hear things he already knew.

"That we're best friends."

"They won't believe that." He said, lightly.

"Of course they won't. They'll see what they expect to see. Little do they know that you have a girlfriend and I'm in love with someone else."

"That is true."

"Besides,” I flipped my hair behind my shoulder, only half kidding, "I'm too pretty for you."

"That is very true." He said, no hint of teasing in his voice.

And my heart warmed at the sincerity in his voice.

Gloria Cohen was a layered personality. Not many were aware of the gross insecurities she bore in her heart. Perpetually obsessed with the way her figure curved or her hair curled, she was not one to see herself as others saw her. Hence her mind was a constant beautiful dilemma of believing what she perceived in the mirror or believing all the compliments that came her way from friends, family and strangers.

She was smiling at me the way she did whenever I paid her a compliment. Her indecisive smile clearly showed the clash of two opinions in her heart. To believe me or to believe what she had, over the years, etched in her heart. The misconception that she was not beautiful.

"Not wanting to drift from the point here, but I can't help but retreat a few steps." I said.

She blinked and then started walking. I fell in step.

"Going back to the part where you're in love with someone else," I went on ignoring her groan of protest, "how is that going for you?"

"How is what going?"

"Being in love."

"It's going where every other unrequited love goes. It's going nowhere at all."

"If you want it bad enough, you should do something about it."

"Yeah no thanks. I think I've made enough of a fool out of myself for some time now."

"I still think you could have played your cards better."

"I was never playing cards, Adam." She turned to look at me. "I was playing dice."

Her response was so dead target that I didn't want to spoil its effect by continuing a dead conversation about dead love. Besides she was highly sensitive when it came to this.

Adam Lacroix was an extremely perceptive boy, even if those around him didn't give him enough credit for it. He was a very casual mixture of indifference, care, oblivious and observant. Just the right amount of each. And often that made him difficult to read. But to those around him, his moods and words were well known and at the end of it all, he was well loved.

I could see he was afraid to push it because he feared it might spoil my mood and in turn spoil our outing.

"Where are we going?" I asked. We had been aimlessly walking down the street, taking arbitrary turns.

"How about left?" He said, as we reached a cross section.

"What's on left?"

"It's not right."

I actually laughed at that.

"Left it is."

We walked for some time in companiable silence before I spoke again.

“I think it’s going to rain.” I looked up to the sky.

Gloria’s love for rain was well known even in far off circles. Mostly because of the fact that she had always been extremely vocal about it. Profoundly convinced that the reason it rained every year on her birthday was because it was God’s gift to her, she had also been known to consider it to be a Sign from the Heavens whenever the skies showered out of season.

Her eyes were hopeful as they looked upward and I resisted the urge to roll mine.

“It’s November.”

“Have you heard of a little something called winter rain?”

“It’s not going to rain. Just because it’s slightly windy…”

“It’s going to rain. You’ll see.”

“Yes, we’ll see.”

“Where to now? Let’s not go too far. We don’t have an umbrella on us.”

“Do you want to eat something?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Do you have money on you?”

“You’re going to make a lady pay?” She teased, as she checked her denim pockets.

“Who lady?” I mocked.

“You’re right. Between the two of us, you are the bigger Girl.”

“I’m not the one dressed in pink from head to toe, with a phone cover that screams,  'Love Pink'.”

“I’m going to get pink streaks.” Her eyes lit up.

“What’s that?”

“Streaks. Like hair streaks.” She took a few loose strands of her hair between her fingers.

“You’re going to have pink hair?”

“No, silly. Pink streaks. Just a bunch of strands.”

“Will that even suit brown?”

She opened her mouth to defend Pink blindly, but then shut it, realizing that I was right. Brown hair and pink streaks just did not go. Even someone like me could see that.

“Pink streaks look amazing on blonde hair.” She said, defiantly.

I tried not to laugh, to spare her feelings, but failed miserably.

“Next you’ll tell me you’re turning blonde?” I flicked her loose strands.

“Adam Levine once got pink hair.”

“Oh so you’re getting pink hair now? And excuse me, that’s Adam Levine.”

“That is something I cannot compete with.” She conceded.

“You have to hear Adam Levine’s cover of Yesterday with �"”

“Tony Lucca? It’s pretty amazing.”

“His voice suits the song perfectly.”

“The song is soul-stirring regardless. And Levine’s voice is chocolatey.”

“'Now I need a place to hide away.'” I quoted.

Our eyes met and we burst out laughing, the very first part of our conversation entering both our minds at the same time.

As our laughter subsided, she said, “You know I was watching The Romantics and this song that was a part of the soundtrack caught my attention. It’s really different. You should check it out. What was the name…?” She swerved dangerously towards the main road, deep in thought.

“Can you try not to get killed in my presence?” I took her by the arm and in one swift motion, exchanged our sides. She didn’t even blink.“Okay, what are you going to do if your father walked straight at us right now?”

She snapped her fingers, “We Can’t Be Friends.”

“We can’t be friends? Really, that’s the solution?”

“Huh?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Did you say anything?”

“Okay, you’re completely useless.”

“Agreed.”

“I asked what you would do if your father walked straight at us now.”

She stopped walking and turned on me, incredulously.

“Is that all you ever think about?”

“Perhaps because you’re the only friend I have whose parents are not cool with us being friends.”

“Oh don’t worry, Adam.” She placed a hand on my arm, in mock consolation. “It’s nothing personal. They’re not cool with me being friends with anyone who has testosterone is his blood.”

Gloria’s background and family didn’t much bother Adam except on days when they threw caution to the wind and went out like this. More scared for her mortality than his, if they were found together, he wondered the sensibility behind asking a child of the 21st century to be friends with her sex only. And when Gloria said something along the lines of 'If I get into an accident while I’m with you, which, given my complete disregard of pedestrian rules, is not a very farfetched hypothesis, make sure to get my body back to my coaching center before you call the ambulance' -not only made him realise that she feared her rules more than death but also angered him, since she didn’t seem to worry too much about either.

His mouth tightened at the corners and his thoughts were not very difficult to read.

“How do you even �"never mind.” He backtracked swiftly.

“How do I live with this?” I began walking again, pulling him with me.

He didn’t say anything.

I tried to make my voice light. “I’m used to it. I didn’t even mind at all. Before.” I smiled at him. “And then you came along and changed everything.”

He smiled.

“Of course it’s highly annoying and unhealthy to no end, but it makes me happy, so I guess it works.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Wanting a life I can never have.”

“Hey, come now, it’s not that bad.”

“You’re right, it’s not. On that note, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat something. I think I have around fifty bucks.”

“I have a bit more than that. What do you want to eat?”

“I’m craving something hot and spicy and definitely chicken.”

“So a…roll?”

I laughed. “Perfectly summed up.”

He grinned at me. “This way.”

As we walked, I started humming and it was only after a couple of minutes, did I realise that it was one of those really old songs I had heard very recently. Impossible by Shontelle.

“What are you singing?”

“Imposssible. I sent it to you, didn’t I?”

“Oh yes you did. Nice song. James Arthur, right?”

“Covered by him, yes. The original is by Shontelle.”

“I like his version better. The original has this weird electro beat which is distasteful.”

“Are you kidding me? I love the sound of the original.” And without giving him a further chance to protest, I began to sing.

After the first line, I paused to give him his cue, which he readily took and then we sang Impossible till we reached the food joint, ignoring all the stares and smirks of the bystanders.

“You got the wrong pitch.” I said, halfway, while we jumped verses.

“It’s a difficult song to cover.”

“We should totally cover it.”

He gave me a look which I read as what-did-I-just-say-about-it-being-a-difficult-song-to-cover.

“Can you play the acoustic of this?”

“Have you or have you not heard James Arthur’s cover?”

I didn’t dignify that with a reply since we had reached our destination.

I waited while he placed the order (“Two double chicken double egg rolls and a bottle of Thumbs Up”), thinking about the song.

“Penny for your thoughts.” He said, coming to stand next to me.

“What’s your favourite line from the song?”

“Umm… I have never really thought about it.”

“You know what’s mine?”

I waited till he asked. “'And now when all is done, there is nothing to say.' It hits me really hard. I’ve experienced that kind of silence, you know. The one which you can’t break because you know no words can make a difference.”

“Words can always make a difference.”

“It’s extremely hypocritical of me to think they can’t because after all, I’m all words. But I also believe actions speak for themselves.”

Before he could say whatever it was he wanted to, our order was ready. He handed me my roll, took his, placed the bottle of cold drink in his other hand and led the way.

Gloria had always been good with words. From a very young age, she had mastered the ability to put to words complicated and sometimes irrational thoughts. An avid but non-versatile reader, she found no difficulty in emulating authors she read and with time and age she found her writings had shifted from being fantastical to depressing to inspiring and now, real. She might not have had the liberty to be whoever she wanted to be, but her writings did.

“My old school is right around the corner.” She said.

“Oh yes, I forgot we were in your area.”

“Look that’s the back wall.”

“It’s not as small as you claimed.”

“It’s larger than it looks. But it’s also smaller than it looks.”

I laughed aloud. “Only you can say something like that.”

She grinned. “It’s the truth.”

“Do you miss it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I miss having a simpler life where my senses of right and wrong were distinct. But leaving was the easiest thing I ever did. But�"”

“It was also the most difficult.” I completed.

She just smiled. “What about you? You’ve changed a lot too.”

“I have, but all for the better. In the last couple of years, life has only been very kind to me if I look at it holistically. I got great new friends, a best friend, a girlfriend, my music has improved, so has my social life and I’ve managed to gain a much respected reputation.”

“Oh that reminds me, I heard your latest song.”

“Which one?” I asked through a mouthful of chicken

“'And I hear your ship is coming in.'” She threw me a dazzling smile. “Gave me goosebumps. I don’t want to say that your brilliant song took me by surprise because I always knew you had it in you to do something exactly this striking. But when I heard it, it was like, I believed it all over again. The intro music is so freaking good that it scares me, Adam. You know like memories of the past which are just so happy that thinking about them terrifies you. That way.”

I just stared at her, my mouth still full of chicken, not knowing the right way to respond to a statement like that.

“And your voice reverberates, which makes it difficult to discern the lyrics completely, but it’s not unclear, it’s just very…effective.”

Again, all I could do was stare.

“And at the end, when the music stops and you think the song is over, but you keep striking the chords and then suddenly it rises its pace, makes its final climax and then drops dead, making you wonder if it’s going to rise again. But it doesn’t.”

Silence from me and inability to swallow.

“It’s pure genius.” She sighed, contently and returned her focus back to her roll.

Music for Adam was more than a discipline, or a hobby. It was nothing short of a way of life: a means of soul-searching. An amalgamation of complexity and simplicity, combining to produce unmatched beauty. The beauty was what had helped him overcome the harshness of his childhood and become what he was today. And it was his desire to give back that urged him to create something of his own. Despite the varied woes of songwriting that the average Joe missed out on realising, Adam Lacroix, always had something to sing about.

I knew I sounded like a maniac gushing about his song like that, but I couldn’t help it. That’s how I sounded when I spoke about something I felt about.

“Okay, I don’t want to sound completely ludicrous, but my legs are a bit tired. Do you know any place around here where we can sit?” I tried breaking into his trance.

“Uhm…” He swallowed. “No, I don’t think so.”

I opened my mouth to say something, I don’t remember what, but another thought swooped in so quickly, that I was left standing there with my mouth open, taken aback.

“What happened?” He was at my side in an instant. He looked about frantically.

“Do you know where we are?”

“We’re near your old school. What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember that story I had written about the boy I met in my Science tuitions?”

“What?” He looked at me in disbelief, probably wondering what had got the better of my sanity.

“I had written this story, called Nothing Else But Everything and I had described this place and the boy and the surroundings. Do you remember?”

“What has that got to do with �"?”

“Do you remember?” I pressed on.

He paused while he racked his brains.

“Uhm, is it the one with the rain and the tree and you both are laughing when the car comes up?”

I was completely taken aback and impressed at how much he remembered. I quickly recovered.

“Yes, precisely that one. So that place and the setting is not fictitious.”

“Wait, that actually happened?”

“No, I mean, everything except the ending has happened. The standing in the rain, the waiting for the cars. The tree, the shed. The stares. That place I described, exists.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And it’s right around the corner from here.”

“It is?”

“Yes, keep up. Let’s go.”

“Wait, what?” He jogged to catch up.

“What what?”

“Where are we going?”

“To the place I had tuitions in high school.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to see this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s important to me. And because it holds a very special place in my heart.”

“Alright.”

“There’s a catch though.”

“What?”

“It’s right around the corner from my father’s office.

“Whoaaah, no way.” He came to a stop.

I sighed and walked back to him. “Nothing will happen, just come.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But why?”

“Too risky.”

“He won’t be here. He’s at home. Probably.”

“Probably? You’re going to put everything on the line for ‘probably’?”

“Just trust me, okay. I know what I am doing.”

He very reluctantly conceded. “You know you call out for trouble.”

I laughed. “Yes well, trouble is a friend.”

I pulled him along.

“Come on, you’ll love this place. There’s a tree which has a sort of seating thing around it.  And you can see the purple building of the police station. And look, the sky is such a pretty shade of dark blue. And there are so many stars.”

We raised our eyes to the dark blue and as if on cue, a flash of lightning lit across the sky, followed by a round of thunder.

“Unbelievable.” He breathed.

I let out a chime of laughter. “It’s a Sign.”

“Yes. It means DANGER. RUN.”

“No. It means go on, the stars are watching over you.”

“That is the most absurd interpretation of thunder that I have ever heard.” And yet he smiled. “People are staring at us. Are you sure they don’t recognize you?”

“Nah, they don’t. Besides, if they don’t like us, they can close their eyes.”

He laughed. “Where does this attitude stem from? Was there something in the roll?”

“Stars. They got nothing on us.”

We walked in silence for a while.

“How much further is your �"for the lack of a better name �"Tuition Spot?”

“Not much. Another few turns and we’re there.”

“What if we do come across your father or someone who knows you?”

Apparently he was obstinately unable to let that go.

“Will you relax?”

“What do we do, then? Where do we go?”

“Don’t worry.” I smiled at him, feeling extremely light headed at being back at the place that had given me so many happy memories for two complete years. The start of my social life, my self-confidence, teachers I loved, respected and missed, a reputation of being smart and geeky, the four hours of the week I looked forward to the most, my first outside-school-friends, writings, poems I called Masterpieces and my first headlong fall in love.

I smiled at him, remembering all the reasons I had to be happy. And all the reasons, I still did.

“I know places we can hide."