Cherry Coloured - Alex Turner

21. The Persistence of Devotion

It was Thursday, the sun had set late and Maeve was driving into town towards the Nifty Reads bookstore.

  "Don't you dare give into him, C," Aria had warned her.

  "Be careful," Kristy had said in conjunction.

  Then there was Chuck: "shag him between the bookshelves and I'll cover next months rent in full."

  It had always been easy for Maeve to remember the words people had said to her but rare that she ever listened. Her own voice was her guide when it came down to it. And she was saying: "fall for him from the safety of the distance in friendship."

The only available parking space was two to the right from Alex's car. Maeve recognised it easy and sparingly glanced through the windscreen in search of the pink bear she always expected to dangle from the rear view mirror once more. Ahead the bookstore glowed with a warm light that conveyed the illusion that it was an oven baking something mouthwatering in an empty kitchen. Maeve peered in through the windows as she approached, through the book displays she could see the heads of people facing all in one direction like school children during story time.

  She instantly cringed when she pushed open the store door and a handful of little bells clashed into each other to announce her arrival to the silent room. A grimace made its way to her cheeks as half of the people sitting inside turned to her with looks of disapproval. She tried closing the door behind her as quietly as she could, wishing she could disappear into thin air when she realised she'd disturbed everyone right in the middle of one of the readings. The poet had ignored her and stood by the tills behind a desk, reading smoothly from a black book with typed pages. Maeve glanced around the room and saw over the arrangement of chairs and people, it was busier than she had expected and the only few seats available were at the back where she spotted Alex, leaning back against a table with folded arms and a gentle smile in her direction.

  Glad to see her was a phrase too deficient to describe how he felt when he saw her walk through that door. It was ineffable. The bells that chimed to announce her arrival were to him like the twinkling symphonies of heaven's door. She flashed him a nervous smiled and shuffled along the side of the audience toward him.

  Alex had been suffering a sort of figurative stomach ache all day. Vienna had cussed him out the night before, upset that he hadn't been able to keep it up in bed. She had starting going on about how little he seemed to want to be involved in their relationship and how he ought to stop complaining about missing her when he wasn't physically excited about being intimate with her. Maeve's entrance had provided him with an antidote.

Vienna had only ever attended one of Alex's poetry readings, it had been the first one he'd ever done, she had helped him come up with the idea as a means to help him feel more content with his life by doing something he enjoyed for himself. The night had been fairly unsuccessful but he'd always treasured it. Maeve's presence gave him the same excitement in his heart. Everyone else had said poetry 'wasn't their thing' as an excuse not to come along once in awhile, Maeve was the first to make the choice to come and support him.

Wary not to disturb the serene silence once again, Maeve only greeted Alex with a smile as she quietly joined him leaning back against the table. He couldn't take his eyes off her, if it weren't for everything else, the fact alone that she came was enough to make his heart explode in a hot, gooey mess in his chest.

Maeve composed herself and looked away from Alex to the poet at the other end of the room. He was talking profoundly about death and nihilism.

Alex leaned over and turned his head so his lips were by her ear. "Thank you for coming," he whispered as quietly as he could and then sat back upright.