Octopus Lips

Fermata Over Barline

           

     The night came like the paw steps of an alley cat and settled down like an old tom. I feel it this time, in my heart, in my bone marrow, deep inside me, penetrating. I'm not happy. There was pen in my hand and it flicked back and forth absentmindedly. It's the only sound in my room at this hour.

     I haven't let myself think about him in a while.

     He was the noise of city at night, massively creepy or subtly romantic, take your pick. Gordon was never one for crowds, he didn't need to show off. The attention of one person was enough, if he could be someone's world if was enough to fill his own. I knew this, it was certain. I don't understand why he would want to attention of some other girl... unless he no longer had my attention. Which I considered false, but I was insecure about what I had done wrong, the answer was probably right under my nose.

     If this was Gordon's aesthetic, we would be in a hotel room in New York right now. I would throw a fur coat over my underwear and lean against the balcony smoking a cigarette, he would smoke a cigar, we would shrivel up our lungs and kill our bodies while killing time. He would've loved that.

     If it were my mine, I would be in the desert. Rosie would be with me, in the back of a pickup truck with seven blankets to share between the two of us. It was cold enough to see our breath, she would ask why I dragged her out here, then I would turn off my flashlight and above us would be more stars in the sky than any of us had ever seen in our whole lives combined. The look on her face would be enough.

     I thought about the difference between the two a lot.

     The next morning, I had the opportunity to bake a platter of cookies on the egging of my parents over to the Jones' household, it was a symbol of peace, a white flag in the war of tension between our families. I wasn't excited about it, I had really only seen Gregory's parents from a distance and talked to them a few times at formal occasions, I considered that never meeting, they were strangers to me.  I'm sure they felt the same.

     I knocked three times on the door and came face to face with two people. A short, plump woman with an 80's updo who looked like she's walked right off the set of a talk show from a similar era, and Redneck McSouthernFarmer, whose face was wrinkled like a huge chunk of granite with a salt and pepper beard of the same color. I would describe the first impression as an afront to my senses, and it took me a few seconds and several startled blinks to gather any coherent words.

     "Hi, I'm Gwen, I uh, I brought cookies," it dawned on me that the quality of my culinary achievements was probably not worth as much as their stares told me

      "Gwen!" His mom realized, "oh, come on in."

     She took the Tubaware from me and I was welcomed inside, which I had not originally planned for (not that I had a plan) so I had no idea what I was supposed to do once she offered me a seat on her couch. I fidgeted awkwardly while looking around the room, Mrs. Jones opened the refrigerator and I noticed there were already several more containers of food inside.

     "We heard about what Gordon did to you," Mr. Jones said, his voice was just as gruff as I imagined.

     "Oh yeah, it's okay I've moved on I uh," a strange feeling came over me and suddenly every blood vessel in my body was screaming at not to mention that I had a girlfriend, "yeah that's about it. I've moved on."

     My eyes flicked over to the pictures of their family on the mantle, road trips, weddings, special events. I couldn't help but notice in every single one Gordon's face had been crossed out. Mr. Jones must have followed my gaze because he grunted under his breath.

     "He did that himself, the night he left."

     "He...did?" A chill ran down my spine.

     This was the first time I had ever been in his house. I could kind of see why. These people gave off a vibe, their home gave off a vibe. It looked like something out of the front page of Southern Living, it looked nice, but there was nothing personal here except the photos, and Gordon had removed himself from them. It was a home without the heart.

     "Oh, that," Mrs. Jones face turned sour. "Don't pay any attention to that. Thanks for the cookies dear, we appreciate it. It's been hard."

     "If you need anything don't hesitate to ask us, I know we haven't really met, but I still want to find your son," I skirted around the word "ex".

     "We appreciate it," she smiled thinly.

      We sat therefor a few seconds in awkward silence.

     "Well, I'd better get going, I've got lots of homework," I lied, anything to get out of this house.

      "Ah yes, responsible," Mr. Jones huffed. "I can see why Gordon liked you. He's never been too studious."

      There was a look in his eyes that reminded me of... a predator... this man was a grizzled old vulture and his wrinkled eyes scanned the room looking for carrion. I don't why my heart was beating so fast. I don't why this place was setting off so many alarms.

    "Oh, stop it honey," Mrs. Jones slapped his arm with a dish towel, "let me get the door for you."

     I was ushered gently out of the house and said goodbye to the two parents, then brushed the chills off my spine like bread crumbs of an article of clothing, and walked quickly aware from the building. I had so many questions, there was obviously some sort of divide going on between him and his parents, the pictures, the weird way they talked about him. Something had been going on the night Gordon decided to leave, and curiosity had hold of me like a corn snake wrapped around a mouse. 

     Gordon was gone, this much is known, but a small part of me couldn't help but wonder how long he'd really been missing from our lives.