The Golden Gates

9

I stopped in the middle of the pavement head in hands. Why is this always happening? I was lucky that the lights were on. Nana started to watch TV every night until I get home from work. With the thought of "Lord, give me a brain", I rang the doorbell. After breakfast, I called Jay, who was busy with something, but still dropped me the number. Of course, he asked how Harry got my bag, but I didn't give him any details. I don't want to add fuel to the fire, especially when the boys are in one band. I'll just pretend that nothing happened. I only have to text: "Hi, it's Elizabeth. I left my bag in your car yesterday. Can we meet today?" No, I don't like the last sentence. I fixed it to "Where to go to pick it up?" Sent. An hour later, the message comes: "Hi, Liz. Studio. Pacific Ave, 34. H."

I'm so lucky I have the day off. Before leaving, I took a leather jacket. Although the sun was shining today, but it was of little use. Having reached the destination on the subway, I called Harry. Five minutes later, he came out wearing an aviator jacket, shifting his glasses into his hair.

— Hello, — I said first.

— Hi, — said Harry unenthusiastically, holding out his bag.

— Thank you, — I said, trying to look at his face. — Are you allright? — I couldn't help but ask, his eyes are too dim. He didn't answer.

— Did you sleep tonight? — Maybe he just doesn't want to talk to me after I called him a dick. I didn't have time to tell him anything else. 

— Thank you for driving me home last night. If you're gonna keep quiet, I better go, — I wore my bag.

— I want to explain myself, — Harry almost whispered. Normally, I'd rather not talk about it, but I hope it will make him feel better, honestly he looks like shit, — Even if you don't want to listen, I need you to know, — he said, taking my silence as consent, — I wasn't trying to offend you yesterday. I could never. I'm sorry I made you think otherwise. Your natural grace, your smile, the glance of your temptress eyes won't leave my head. Last night I dreamed about seeing you again. But no matter how hard I try, you're baiting me. I'm asking you one last time. Give me a chance.

— I didn't blame you, but the apology is accepted. Let's pretend nothing happened, — Harry breathed a sigh of relief and smiled back. I'm not sure he said everything he wanted to say, so I had an idea in my head.

— You wanted to show me a place? — Maybe I'm making a mistake.

— You think? — He played along.

— Yes, I remember something like that, — I said jokingly.

— Did you hear about the exhibition at the City Museum? — Harry asked hesitantly, putting his hands in his pockets.

— I've been meaning to go.

— Then let's go.

— Now? Aren't you going to rehearsal now? — I wondered.

— We're done, — the studio is downtown, it's about 10 minutes away. I started walking forwards. He followed me. The sky is perfectly clear and blue today. Turning to Harry, I asked, holding the collar of the joint from the cool winds, the disheveled hair gleamed in the sun:

— Are you drawing?

— No, I prefer to contamplate. You? 

— Ever since I was a kid. I even thought I'd become an artist when I grew up, — I said smiling.

— What happend? 

— Grown-up life, — I giggled. He smiled back.

— Will you show me your works later?