chasing an illusion - pipabeth

12- the truth

5:00 a.m.

sarurday.

my stupid alarm goes off. i hear the familiar sound of piano and a sweet mellow violin. i never thought it was stupid before. i shut it off as quickly as possible and try to nestle back into bed without waking piper who was next to me.

"what time is it?" she asks me without a hint of grogginess in her voice. i guess she was already awake.

"five." i reply. "why are you up?"

i turn to face her. i'm startled to see her bright eyes so close to my face. the room is dim, but i see her features quite clearly in the dark. the shape of her face, gently glowing in the dark and her eyes wide open. there is an unspeakable silence hanging in the air. the city is muffled below us.

"i've been up for hours, i think." she says. "you sleep very soundly. i've been watching."

"creepy," i answer. she smiles. "you didn't sleep at all?"

"i think i slept for a few hours. that's normal for me, though. my sleep doesn't follow schedules well. i stare at the ceiling a lot."

"oh."

"do you always wake up at five?"

"usually. not as often as of late, though."

"because of me?"

i laugh quietly. "yeah, because of you."

she smiles and my heart flutters in my chest. "sorry to ruin your schedule."

"don't worry about it. a person needs a bit of chaos in their life."

"am i chaotic?"

"i'd say so."

"do you wanna get up?" she asks.

"eventually." i answer. i reach out, hesitating a little bit, as though afraid she'd dissolve into smoke if i dare touch her. i tuck her hair behind her ear. she's solid. she's still here. i sigh. "eventually, i do."

"but not yet?"

no, it's all too good to be true. just let me be this person for a little longer. let me live a fantasy where this is me. that i am the girl in the dark that she loves. that i am the only shape she traces with her eyes. that this, this, this is me. for an eternity. for a few more minutes. this is my illusion.

"not yet."

there's a wailing of a police car below. the sound of cars. still quiet, though.

"what do you think of me?" she asks.

"hm?"

"the album. the party. the interviews. photoshoots. this whole... thing i've created for myself." she clarifies.

"it's impressive." i answer. she's been busy for the past six years. so have i, i suppose.

"does it seem genuine?" she asks, worried. "i can never know if the life i'm living is me. if the interviews are me talking. if the performances i give are actually me singing."

"if you don't know. how would i know? i'm not you."

"but you knew me before i was this. i think all of it has swallowed me a little. but you knew. do you still see me?"

"i see you now."

she looks at me with wide eyes. there's a feral energy in her that seems untamable behind those eyes. her beauty seems somewhat otherworldly. not quite the type of beauty i see in magazines or in shopping catalogues. the type that is ancient, deeply rooted, and perfectly real. masked in the blue darkness of five a.m. and surrounded by an unspeakable silence.

"what about on stage? what about in front of a camera? what about on a screen? is that still me?" she continues, unsatisfied.

"it sounds like you don't think it's you."

"how insightful of you."

"i think your music is you." i answer. "if not the interviews or photoshoots, then the music. and isn't that what you are? a musician?"

"yeah," she answers, as though not convinced. "i guess i am."

"just be who you want, then. tell the truth, then. be the truth."

"i don't know what the truth is."

"well maybe that's your truth. uncertainty."

she laughs. "imagine if i could think like you. what type of things could i do?"

"get some decent sleep for once, probably." i say, smiling.

"yeah," she sighs, enviously. "i wish. i could never be you. it's not in me to be orderly or logical. but at least i have you."

"you have me," i repeat, dizzied by the truth of it all. i'm sharing a bed with piper mclean and yet she's the one who has me. it's all so simple, yet disorienting.

but that's how truths tend to be.

the world awakens slowly below us.