The City | GirlxGirl

one ➳

"It's perfect, Thom. It is."

Thin walls. Jude could hear her parents speaking at a low volume from the living room, while she spun in circles around the empty bedroom that now belonged to her and her long-time boyfriend, Thom Stanton.

Thom's head tilted towards his left shoulder; jagged, black hair fell into his emerald eyes. Jude looked at her bare feet, toenails painted a dark red. Above their king bed they'd hang a photo of the sea that Jude's father had taken. What was it about the colour red, and the sea?

Jude continued to parade around the room. She imagined what they would do with the empty space. Their closet would soon be filled with their clothes; her collection of floral dresses would mingle with Thom's dark dress shirts and freshly-ironed blazers.

It would be theirs.

"I'm glad you like it, love." His words echoed against the plain, white walls. Jude always found herself surprised by its depth. Thom's younger brothers often grew afraid of the voice when it grew stern and scolding. But Jude found comfort in the vibration, the mumble of words that seemed to slur as they left his pale lips.

Jude looked again at her feet. She thought of the similar white carpet at her family's home, the one that she now no longer lived in. She had once spilled red nail polish in a corner of her bedroom; hours were spent on trying to rid the white carpet of the paint, with limited success.

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

Red sky in morning, sailor's warning.

Jude glanced at her wristwatch. Thom had bought it for her for her twenty-third birthday one month ago, in December. 9:02AM.

"The moving truck should be here any minute now," she told Thom.

A grunt. She was used to this response, had been hearing it since ninth grade. Thom wasn't shy, but he was quiet. He came from a family of three girls and five boys, and as the eldest, it was assumed by most people that he would be loud, assertive, and take charge. But for the past eight years, Jude had always been the one to initiate conversation, to make decisions, and so on.

"I'm so happy, Thom."

"Same."

Jude smiled. She saw the soft green eyes behind the curls of black that lay against his forehead, and she knew he was genuinely happy. After being together for so long, they could finally live together. Not only that, they had moved two hours away from their hometown, into a city of skyscrapers and lights, people and opportunities. Jude could barely contain her excitement as her parents entered their vacant bedroom and announced that they had seen the moving truck pull up to the building.

-

They ate Chinese food on the hardwood floor of their kitchen, sitting next to boxes that they had yet to unpack, filled with furniture that would soon become accustomed to their daily lives. Thom ate silently, his head lowered towards his food, curls in his eyes. Jude let her eyes wander, as they had since they first entered their apartment, her mind reeling. She imagined them lounging around on the couch alone. And then she thought of the empty wine glasses that their new friends would leave as they stumbled home, Thom already passed out somewhere in the apartment, leaving her to pick up after everyone.

Unappealing, it sounded, but it was the life she envisioned. And she was now in a position to finally live the years of imagined moments.

She was happy. Truly. But still, she wiped tears from her cheeks that continued to fall, landing in the food she had barely touched because she was too busy letting her eyes roam around the bare walls and cardboard boxes.

Thom cleared his throat, and Jude became aware that she had been sniffling.

"Sorry," she said with a light laugh. Always prepared, she retrieved the single tissue she had folded neatly in her pocket, knowing that as soon as her parents left, she'd need it. "Since I lived at home while I went to university I never had the experience of saying goodbye. I'm okay."

Jude wiped her eyes once more and stuffed the tissue back into her pocket, waiting for a response from Thom. When none came, she felt her heart drop slightly, although she was well aware that he had never been the least sympathetic, even to her.

Thom had insisted his parents didn't need to come and drop them off. He said he liked Jude's better, that he'd be just fine saying goodbye to his family at home. When Jude thought about it, Thom never showed much affection towards his family, despite them being friendly and warm towards her. She wondered if they behaved differently behind closed doors, but soon let that thought slip from her mind. Now the only doors around them were those of their own apartment, and their families were miles away.

"I suppose we can spend tomorrow setting up all the furniture. It's getting late," Jude said, peering at her wristwatch again. She liked watching the thin hands move; she liked that hands represented time passing. As if human hands could take hold of time, could stop it, or in some way control it.

Thom grunted. "First day of work, Jude."

"Right," Jude said, quiet. She had nearly forgotten that one of the reasons they moved to Toronto together was because Thom was starting his job. She couldn't even remember what the title of it was. Maybe he hadn't even told her.

"Some of us have to work."

This might have stung Jude. On another day, maybe. On a day that they hadn't moved into an apartment together, and eaten Chinese food on the floor of their new home, surrounded by boxes that contained pieces of their new life. Instead, she shrugged it off, knowing that Thom never meant any harm by these remarks. It was just his personality.

"I'm working on a book," she said.

"Of?"

"Poetry."

Thom laughed. A dry sound from the back of his throat, that Jude had heard more frequently than genuine laughter. He didn't have a good sense of humour. He was a realist. That's what Jude liked about him.

"You can read some of it, if you'd like." Jude stabbed the food in her bowl that had grown cold, suddenly not hungry.

"I'm okay."

Jude exhaled. He didn't mean to hurt her when he said things like this. It was just who he was. She couldn't change him; she wouldn't try to. She let his words, his tone, his overall uninterest roll off her shoulders.

She wouldn't let it bother her tonight.