Asunder

Chapter 14 - Distant Memory

I've had enough of danger
And people on the streets
I'm looking out for angels
Just trying to find some peace

I've stopped being up to date on which songs are popular at a given time, because of my mom's broken radio. Though my general disinterest doesn't help, the fact that we only ever listen to an old George Michael CD -among other treasures of the 70s, 80s and 90s- is the main reason why my knowledge is so limited.

And as we drive to the furniture store, for my 'surprise', my attention is fully centred on the song. George Micheal's voice has me caught between his words, following every syllable. Feeling what he wants to tell me, his sad and sorrowful story.

Now I think it's time
That you let me know
So if you love me
Say you love me
But if you don't just let me go!

My throat is dry, my fist is tight. His voice has always had that affect on me. And the things he's saying... they come poured straight out of the cracks in his heart.

'Cause teacher
There are things that I don't want to learn
And the last one I had
Made me cry

Oh God, this. I have to admit, I miss this. I miss lip syncing to these songs, feeling heartbreak I've never felt, begging to a lover I've never had. Or taking my pain, and building it into a miniature car-seat-performance. I didn't care that I looked crazy to the people looking through the windows. And I only cared a bit about the exasperated looks my dad would throw my way.
Because I was feeling so much, living so fully.

Now, my lips move tentatively around the syllables. And though it's been years since I've heard this song, the lyrics spring back out from within me as they come out of the speakers. Like magic.

George Micheal was one of those who taught me that heartbreak can turn into a masterpiece, that tears often turn into liquid gold. With that magic touch, with that magic voice, that magic mind. They come together and create out of pain. And the chorus makes me feel like I'm flying through that sorrow, feeling it and letting myself consume it for once.

So I don't want to learn to
Hold you, touch you
Think that you're mine
Because it ain't no joy
For an uptown boy
Whose teacher has told him—

My mom's finger rises to skip the song, clicking her tongue.

Just like that, the light is turned off, George Micheal's voice is dead. Mom clicks the skip button a few times, and in the silence following that small death, it feels like my heart is suspended in mid-air. Its flight interrupted. Ended, before the landing.

"That song is so sad, don't you think?" she shakes her head.
I don't look at her. My eyes are still stuck staring at the air, where a movie about love and pain was playing through my eyes a few seconds ago. But now, it's disappeared.

I blink and clench my jaw, and the spell is broken. My heart drops from the air, and it feels like it's shattering on the floor as my mom selects a new song.
"Ah! This one's good."

Faith begins to play, the sound of the intro's organ invading the space. And though George Micheal's voice returns, I haven't.
"This used to be your favorite song, Kingsley! Oh, I remember when you were just a baby girl."
I don't remember this being my favourite song, but... she's probably right. It could've been.

It's impressive how little I remember; I don't recall any time I was young. In my memory, it's as if my life begins when I was twelve. And whenever my mind wanders to before that age, I get panicked, and immediately turn back.

The merry guitar brings back an old feeling, though. A mix of the joyfulness of the song, and of a complex tangle of negative emotions. The feeling is intensely reminiscent the past, and it gets louder and louder as the song progresses.
For some reason, panic clenches and unclenches around my lungs. It's uncomfortable, and strange, and so confusing—