Law of Dreams

7

We were static—bound to a splinter of time I was scared to lose and he was scared to remove.

He was everything. He was tousled, silk curls, dark eyelashes and linen shirts past my thighs. He was the smell of fresh coffee and jasmine and of smoke tingling in my nostrils. He was smooth hands learning my body, quick wit when I didn't expect it, and a smile that would never crack on demand. He was all I could want, and then he wasn't.

I dreamed his best parts. I dreamed them constantly. When I woke it was with a pinch, but I never let it show.

*

When I invited Law for dinner at my tiny brick house—though not as tiny as the den—he walked inside with an inscrutable expression.

I lived alone. "My family are still in Perth," I explained.

"You all get along?" He sat down in front of the television. The couch was low to the ground and his sharp knees came right up.

I sat next to him, smelling musky cologne and smoke. "Yeah we do. I visit them a few times every year. I just wanted to jump out of the nest, I guess. If I stayed in Perth through my twenties I'd never leave. And I've always loved Melbourne. We used to come here for—"

"You know Melbourne's been voted the most livable city for like seven years in a row," he said. "I've heard Perth is a bit of a ... hole."

"Oh, it's not quite that bad. I mean when I was a kid—"

"It's the kind of place you might visit, you know. Might. But live? Not really my flavour."

"Yeah," was all I could think to say. I really did love Perth. If Law was sent to Perth to write Best Of articles, maybe he would too. I went to the kitchen and brought him back a glass of water.

"What about your family?" I adjusted my dress and sat again beside him. I'd chosen this bright blue number Mum had sent down a while ago—apparently it made my eyes pop.

Law sipped his water and raised a flippant hand. "Not much to say, really. Parents divorced, Mum bit the dust from cancer a few years after and I have two sisters."

I blinked a few times, wondering if I'd heard him right. "I'm so sorry Law."

"Nah it was fun being their brother. Aside from when they used to do my make-up."

It wasn't what I meant, but I left it there.

We ordered pizza and watched an episode of this zombie show, but it was too scary for me. I didn't like gore or excessive violence without adequate reason.

"They only do this for the shock factor," I told Law as a zombie tore into an innocent man in an alley. The light from the TV was gleaming in his wide, green eyes.

"Of course they do," he replied. When he didn't look at me, I turned back; more blood, more screaming, a chunk of innocent flesh soaring into the night sky.

I shifted my eyes to the framed photograph beside the TV—my little brother and I in Perth with our arms slung around each other—and I watched it till the show was over.