Love In a Maze

The Bitter Love-Song I

The Bitter Love-Song I

1993

Kid had been stalling for the better part of three hours. The little shop and apartment just above that once gave him so much comfort to hide away in, now left him stunted, unable to push forward. Sitting in his car listening to the radio, he didn't know why he was there. She was a girl... just like all the others, somehow though they faded behind her. He questioned the point of even making it this far, questioned their memories that incessantly played over in his mind. Trying to make excuses for his emotions, he found a million reasons to leave. But then he would remember the brightness of her smile, the softness in her voice, the gentle way she would curl into his lap, her body always perfectly fitting into his, those memories it seemed gave him even more reasons to stay.

After another rotation of Brothers Johnson's Strawberry Letter 23, he knew he had to see her. He hadn't heard that song in years, now it seemed to be the only one they played. That song was one of Athina's favorites, the lyrics melding so succinctly with poetry, painting a picture of love... of yearning. They had once laughingly argued the difference between the two, lines and lyrics. Kid defended his stance stating that once music was put to words they became lyrics, but Athina said poetry had a beat of its own so inherently had its own music. Both sides seemed to win the argument as it ended with her whispering lust-filled lines to him as each sweet stroke followed within the perfect rhythm of iambic pentameter.

Finally finding resolve he opened the car door, but he wasn't ready to face the unknown, finding it far safer to replay old memories. His heel scuffed the curb as he rounded the corner of the store, ducking into the darkness of an alleyway. The wrought iron of the fire escape, the slight smell of moisture on the crumbling bricks, he had known this well. It had once only housed her motorcycle, now in its place sat a faded silver Volvo. He would have questioned if it belonged to Athina, but the kitschy stickers plastered all over the bumper let him know exactly who it belonged to. Looking up he checked as he always did, even when the Glam Slam was merely blocks away. Her window as always... closed. He remembered the sound of the pane as he slammed it shut, the last time he left her. That hollow thud as the glass slightly shook beneath the forcefulness. She had never opened it again, he thought this time would be different, but he was wrong.

Kid's fingers traced the uneven lines of dried paint that dripped down the mortar. They had once created something so beautiful, their prose mixing in color against the dull brick surface, breathing life into dreary surroundings. In his anger he wanted to destroy everything and before jumping down the ladder, he splattered paint onto their work, effectively erasing any memory of him. She hadn't tried to fix it, or paint over it, it sat damaged, faded like the scarring of an old wound. Finding the word joy, he remembered how that single word stained green on the porcelain basin of her tub. Her limbs gripped so tightly around the edge as she lost herself in the exact euphoria of that word, her thighs shuddering against him. He wondered if it stayed like a faint dream, or if it had eventually worn away with time.

Slipping on his sunglasses he let his palm warm against the brass handle of her shop door, as if bracing for reality. The large glass panes of her store front had now been frosted, no longer allowing the neon from the neighboring shops to peek inside. There was only one change to the small sign blazed in electric blue as it now read... Between the Lines Book Emporium and More, the two-word addition, nondescript almost an afterthought. He wondered the meaning of 'and more'. But the moment he opened the door he understood completely. Gone were the four meagre rows of bookshelves; gone were the two lonely seats pressed against the wall. The once tiny space he remembered chasing Athina around, finding her as quickly as he found the other side, was now huge. Her little shop had tripled, even quadrupled in size taking over her neighboring businesses, walls demolished in between. The bakery and the record store now all seemed to be a piece of her's, encompassing a perfect business model. His stomach tensed at the crowded space not expecting it. He should have though, she often spoke of wanting to expand, needing more room. She wanted to own the record store just beyond the bakery, but the only dream of a future at the time he accepted was the one with him in it. Trying often to convince her that her store was nothing and she needed to follow him. That the door to her paper cage was open and she could easily fly away.