Soul Harbour

0.24|when experiencing aftershocks|

0.24|from Sabah's tape-recorder: when experiencing aftershocks|

I was finishing up the last table listening to Anthony's version of what had happened after his little plan had succeeded at Auburn's workplace.

"She told you to not be what?" I raised an eyebrow.

He swallowed, jaw tensing up, hand nervously reaching up to pat down his hair, "An anchor. She told me not to be a fucking anchor."

"Woah, that sounds weird seeing that you are a good-looking man and not an anchor," I guffawed.

"Its not funny," he said, crumpling up the tablecloths he was supposed to be folding, earning a reproachful look from me. "Its not funny at all. Do you realise I might have ruined our friendship in that moment? All because I can't keep my feelings to myself?"

Usually I always have something to say but I was finding it difficult to say the right things at the moment. What were even the right things a person is supposed to say at such a moment? Don't worry? It'll all be fine? I'm sure you would have said some really inspirational stuff, Sabah, but I don't know, I was at a loss of words.

So, I scrubbed the table some more and tried, "Maybe we should just let her be. Let her think about it. You did surprise her, right?"

He scoffed, "I surprised myself. I shouldn't have had the wine."

"Well, let the surprise sink in," I winked at him.

He nodded, picking up the folded tablecloths, "Yeah..." He stopped midway towards the tablecloths' cupboard and asked, "Carlotta, does she ever talk about me?"

I heaved a sigh and sat down, "Yes."

He seemed to wait for me to say something more and I waited for him to ask something more. His clouded grey eyes looked dark in the evening lights that sifted in through the glass windows and unflinching, he sized me up, my tired face, my sunken stance. He turned away with a tight smile, "I'm sorry, you've had a long day."

I opened my mouth but the sound of the wind chimes and the slight swish of the opening door distracted both of us from our overdrawn conversation.

Auburn walked in, her short, brown hair curling with the wind, shoulders straight and head high. You would have lauded the way she held herself after the last one hour and if it wasn't for eyes that were pink around the edges, I would have never believed she was bluffing.

She walked right up to me, her footsteps echoing across the silent cafe. I looked at the girl and wanted to tell her that it was okay. Yes, I wanted to tell her all the things they say in situations like these. Anything and everything to show her I cared, that I was here for her, no matter what Gordon had said, no matter how many times and people she had run away from.

She sat at my table and took a deep breath, "I believe I owe you two a story."

I stared and then cracked a smile. This girl was incredible. I had seen my fair share of sadness and disappointment in the world and at her age, I would have crumpled at the first syllable I would have to extract from myself. Who was I kidding? I had crumpled. Numerous times. On numerous shoulders then.

David shouting at me. What was he saying? Again and again. I could follow the patterns his lips made and they were repetitive, magical even, but what was he saying? I turned away and vomited, the stench rank against my nostrils, the acid burning at the back of my throat, the muscles in my stomach trying to pump out more but finding an empty pit in place. The room spun or maybe I spun. It was getting difficult to see anything clearly. All that was tangible was the vomit and the smell of my cigarettes and beer.