Of Mochas and Macchiatos

Part 9

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rafe leans against the doorframe. So distracted by the view of the night sky before me, I didn't even hear him come in. Surprised, I nod at him, gingerly, and he approaches me, very carefully, very cautiously, as if I may be a wild animal. He's wearing an innocuous Tommy Hilfiger rugby polo, his hair swept neatly in a side parting.

"I have the exact same view from my bedroom. Look, you can see all the way to the forest's edge, and sometimes, when the sky is clear, you can even see the sparkling waters of the Nile". He sweeps his hand in front of him, gesturing through the glass at the night sky. I watch as his eyes glaze over. For a single moment, he looks so wistful. But then the emotion that clouds his eyes is gone. He turns to me. "How do you feel?"

What do I say to that? I don't even know how I feel. As I try to think of a reply, I put down a pencil and reach my hand up to fiddle with my hair and I, once again, catch sight of the bandage across my palm. Right now, my hand doesn't hurt exactly, but when I stretch my palm out flat, there is a slight prickle of pain there. It took me a lot longer than usual to rule out the page and when I got too caught up in my work, letting my pencils dart across the page, my hand started to cramp as a result of the awkward way I held my writing implements.

"What happened last night?" I finally ask, meeting Rafe's eyes. I can only remember fragments of the previous night; it's like pieces of a broken puzzle. And I don't quite know what's real and what's not.

Rafe turns back to gaze out of the window. "There was a fire." I see a muscle in his jaw clench when he says the word fire. "A serial arsonist, apparently. Anonymous. But rumour has it, they left a calling card. You're lucky, you know? You could have died. Some of the floors above yours collapsed. Thankfully, nobody died. Fires like these, they're dangerous." I get the sense that Rafe has forgotten I'm there but I don't know what to say. I remain silent, catching the eye of my reflection in the glass before me. Then Rafe breathes in, a deep shuddery breath and he continues, as if there was no awkward empty pause.

"You called me. Do you remember that?" I shake my head. "You never told me your address. But it wasn't hard to find. I just followed the smoke. And then I brought you here. This is... the guest room. It's yours, now." The way that he hesitates disturbs his usual unflustered demeanour. This isn't the guest room. It's somebody else's room. That much I know. But I don't press him about it.

"What about..." I falter. What am I asking anyway? What about you Rafe? How do you feel about me living in your home? I can't say that though. And Rafe is staring at me now, waiting for me to finish my sentence. I pluck a word from obscurity. "-School?"

"Uh, you nearly died last night and you're worried about missing class?" But a smirk tugs at Rafe's lips. "Leger, you are so predictable. It's sorted. I talked to all your teachers and they were very empathetic that their darling Evangeline nearly died that you don't even have any homework. And I managed to convince them to give us the rest of the week off... and then it's a long weekend too-"

"Us?"

"Shhhhh, I get out of class too. It's a win-win situation. You miss school, I miss school. Perfect! What can I say? They were so grateful that their star student was heroically swept from the flames by a total stud." I know that Rafe will ignore my sputtered protests that I actually like university (unlike high school- that was awful) and that he did no such thing so I simply just roll my eyes at him.

In the brief interlude that follows our slight banter, I look back across the glimmering lights of the town and at the sky above it all. A patchwork of blue, peppered with stars that sparkle like diamonds. Before me is a sheath of papers, lines meticulously ruled out to mark the bass clef and treble clef. And notes, half notes, quarter notes, eight notes scattered about the page, separated by tiny markings, rests. I see Rafe's eyes catch on my music and suddenly I feel so self conscious. I don't usually show anybody my songs.