Theory Of The Constant Melody

CHAPTER 14

WATCHING PEOPLE SAUNTERING around the Will Rogers Memorial Park, I picked up the vibe from my classmates whom I selected to be with before the nightfall.

It was a delightful day having no ship has sailed in the nick of time. We’ve been sitting in the grass, short of the end zone, over an hour after strolling leisurely around the park.

Fresh air smelled like mint as it lingers through my nostrils. And it filled my lungs wherefore I felt refreshed and exhilarated. Moreover, the breeze rustled the leaves making them fall on the ground. The places I’ve been these years of staying here is nothing like those of I had lived when I was still a kid. Maybe, this park was exceptional. It is more vibrant and entrancing.

“Hey, Cyan?” Celine approached while a smile curved its way across her lips. Her bubble skirt rode up as she sat down cross-legged left beside me.

Without any intervening time, I looked sideward and rubbed a hand behind my ear. That was actually awkward.

“You’re a bit hairy at the heel,” I heard her speak.

I gave her a look and half-suppressed laugh. “Literally?” I asked even though I know what she’s talking about.

She rolled her eyes and thwacked me in the bicep. “Of course, it’s an idiom,” she replied with vexation.

I chuckled softly and leaned back on my arms. “Celine, I’m trying to play around. Don’t be so serious.”

“Then, you put over a clever answer ‘literally’,” she replied humorously, and the corners of her mouth quirked up. “Shifting the area of the subject, I know it wouldn’t be that so believable since I have the courage to tell you so but I have a crush on you since second year, Cyan” she spoke and turned crimson. Then, she looked down and buried her face in hands. Eventually, she jolted upright and faced right me.

I should have actually caught off guard because of her confession. However, I would be fooling myself if I acted like it wasn’t normal. Well, it’s not new. How could it be so phenomenal?

I cleared my throat and bended my right knee. I jerked my thumb toward her.

“Thumbs up?” she muttered.

I chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. “What I meant was thanks for admiring me, then,” I said, smiling to make her feel comfortable—even though she’s not eyeing me straightly. Maybe, it hit her up with embarrassment.

Therewith, she folded her hands in lap and stared at me. “You’re not mad?” she asked sceptically.

Drawing my eyebrows together, I leaned forward and threaded a hand through my hair.. “No… of course not. Admiring a person is never a sin. Why would you ask?”

She let out a soothing sigh, and a small beam slipped across her lips. “I don’t know what to say, Cyan. You’re making me blush. You’re really benevolence to a fault and full of the milk of humankind,” she complimented.

“How do you… say so?”

“There was once a time that I confessed my feeling for this haughty man who straightway told me that I was not his type. Apart from that, he admonished me that I should be admiring with the same level as mine. The f**k! That man was really insane.”

I burst into laughter and caressed my hand against my abdomen.

“Why are you laughing? Don’t tell me you’re going to reprove me,” she supposed with her forehead puckered with disbelief.

“No… no. You’re raving. I mean… you seemed to be damning that man for a long time and still get over him,” I responded and eased up.

She beamed a bit and slapped my thigh. “I loved him. Without expecting in return, I took risks,” she answered sadly. “I had the urge to divulge my amazement toward him, but he returned abrasive words. I really felt blue that time,” she continued with her mouth setting in a hard line.

“Celine, that’s the intrinsic nature of love. Taking risks is not a guarantee, rather just a possibility in some way,” I explained.

She ran a hand through her ash, long and sleek hair and pouted. “You? Have you tried to… you know, confess? Did it hurt?” she asked.

I snickered and looked heavenwards.

The haze was dramatically dancing across the vibrant, blue wintry skies. There are doves flying quietly against the wind when it approaches the breeze.

“Never,” I simply answered. “But perhaps, did it hurt? Yes, it’s inevitable, anyway,” I added and faked my smile. I returned my eyes on her and examined her face.

Her thick eyebrows snapped together. “How do you know, then? People believe that you’ll not—”

I spoke crossly, “I haven’t experienced it yet, but I know the feeling.”

She was about to talk when a slight pluck engulfed the area.

“Just smile for me and let the day begin… you are the sunshine that lights my heart within…” Acherous graciously sang who’s sitting on a bench a meter away from us with his guitar on lap.

“… on the wings of love up and above the clouds the only way to fly…”

“Is on the wings of love…” I softly sang along.

“You two are bosom friends,” Celine remarked.

“Close-knit.”

MAJOR CITIES IN LOS ANGELES have varieties of nightclubs where people are ostensibly meeting new friends and mingling with them that quite possibly continues the next morning.

The single ball of lights flickered the spot where the nightclub-goers in the center dancing intimately, solo, and rhythmically to the beat.

The retro Asian-themed of the club really captivates goers at late night. The disc jockey grooves as he plays and operates the disk extemporaneously to create different tunes, particularly jazz and rock genre. It’s a sort of minimalist classical, and the ambiance was darn good.

This day was set last week to go out to night club with my close friends at school. Moreover, the past days were as usual as my daily routine.

Unfortunately, Acherous and I remained not so well. We talk infrequently unlike before. We have become civil. Additionally, from then—when we have quarrelled—he doesn’t bother to order or buy takeout. The only thing we can do is to lounge around.

Prattling on me way back, Acherous doesn’t even manage to open a topic with me. I tried to talk him around; by chance he could listen to my point of view. But whenever he sensed that I would be touching on the issue, he just flounced off—or I was just thinking that way.

Honestly, agitation crept over me as I had Shandria down as slanderous for telling Acherous the wrong thing about what he witnessed.

The vibe was actually captivating. I’ll be more comfortable in the crowd, intoxicated by spirits, conversation swirl, the sick tainting smell, and the laughter over the jukebox all the same.

“Hey, handsome,” someone behind me said under her breath.

The field of my view ranged to the other side as a hand travelled through my right shoulder down my flank.

I glanced sideways and rested my arms on the polished chrome bar table. Next, I took a step rightward to provide a space between us.

Afterwards, I wrapped my index finger around the stem of the wine glass and the other side was supported by the tip of my thumb finger. The remaining fingers curled into my palm in the loose of a fist.

“Reticent,” she mumbled, sounded smoky.  “Hey, I’m chatting you up. Cop off with me upstairs. I like you—”

“I’m not interested,” I calmly stated without glimpsing her.

“So rude. C’mon, I’ve got you covered with s*x positions. I’ll make your night—”

“Please…” I looked her in the eye and knitted my eyebrows. “Get out. Not being rude but I’m not coming cross with anyone.”

Therewith, she extended her index finger and pressed it against my lips. “Wow. Come out of the closet, cutie boy. Are you gay?” she huskily asked and licked her shiny red lips.

“I’m not,” I answered straightway and grimaced.

“So screw me around.” Unexpectedly, she hit me with a blow in the arm and laughed loudly.

“Dusty doughnuts! What have I done wrong?” I complained and glared at her.

“You haven’t changed, Cyan. If you could be a girl, I would be describing you so demure,” she uttered.

I creased my forehead fixedly and inspected her face. “Have we met… before? Why do you know my name? And… how?” I asked confusedly and took a gulp of my vodka.

She refrained from laughing and rested a slight fist against her jaw; elbow supporting on the table. “Obviously, you don’t familiarize my face—or you actually forget me, Cyan Miller.”

I gesticulated my free hand and shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Uh—oh, Cyan. I’m Geneva Jones,” she introduced.

It was a moment of second remembering that name. “Really, I don’t know you. There’s one Jones I—”

She shook her head and parted her lips together. “Hey, bro. I used to be your neighbor when we were on Lowell Avenue,” she voiced in a masculine tone.

My mouth fell open while I’m studying her face so closely. “Wa—warren,” I stammered when I eventually familiarized a mole beside her lips.

“Thank God,” she spoke; her voice shifted back.

“W—what happened to you? You looked feminine.”

This was unexpected. And looking at him this way really caught me off.

Warren was my high school friend next door. Witnessing how I overcame depression then, he never skipped an hour to cheer me on to keep going.

“I’m transsexual.”

It was not confidential with me his gender. He was gay. Connectedly, it was not a big deal since my family is a great supporter of this community. Seeing him now was made me awe in surprise.

“Amazingly, you really look—wow!” I rejoiced. “Is it weird to call you ‘bro’ or ‘dude’?” I sniggered and observed his features from head to toe.

“Call me Geneva,” he answered.

I nodded and noticed how her dress almost not fit her with a high plump breast.

“Now, get it on,” she larked. “Don’t tell me you’re still chaste with your dick.”

“Indeed.”

“What the f**k! You’re as old as me and I tap off with anyone I like.”

“Silly,” I mumbled, “not my activity.”

“Girlfriend?”

I shrugged once again and gave her a smothered laugh. I stroked my hair and winked at her playfully.

“What the—seriously, Cyan?” she asked unbelievably; her pupils dilated, and she threw head back.

“Yes. Did I make myself ridicule from that fact? Besides, it’s not my thing to get into a relationship with no preparation. I mean… love occurs unexpectedly and unconditionally. I like to be as ready as certain to pair off.”

“Withdrawing what I told you, I regret saying that you’ve never changed; you changed for the best life you could have.” She smiled at me and extended her right hand.

I stared at it and chuckled. I held her hand and shook it. “Nice meeting you again, my former neighbor…”

“Geneva,” she continued.

“… Geneva,” I added.

“Nice me—”

“Cyan…” someone behind us called my name.

Together, we turned around and looked at the back then my classmate came into our sight.

“Sam…” I called.

She walked closer to me and whispered in my left ear. “Acherous is drunk. Bring him home,” she said softly.

I concluded that she’s drunk too due to her boozy breath.

“Sure.” I turned to Geneva and hesitantly smiled. “Uhm… Geneva, I have to go. My friend is in need of assistance.”

“Ah… sure, Cyan. No problem. But wait…” she paused and took out something in the side pocket of her shoulder bag. “Here’s my contact number. If you need some help, just call me up.” She handed me a small card which I got immediately.

“Thanks. See you,” I lastly said before walking away.

I CAN SEE HIM STRUGGLING TO KEEP HIS BALANCE. His legs seem to work well that he limbed more over again.

“Hey, hey, hey. Watch out!” I grumbled when Acherous almost fell off the ground. He rested on the post behind us and looked me in the eye.

“Hey, Cyan. How could you–ugh!” he grunted and rushed to the nearest bush then vomited.

I hissed and shook my head in petulant. I was really upset. I hate him being drunk. For goodness sake, his tolerance to liquor is so low.

“You know, Cyan…it’s really my fault.”

“Hey. What are you talking about? Let’s go home.”

“I felt drunk, not because I drank so much beer but because I wanted you to realize, ugh-” His voice was shaking.

“Come on, bro. Let’s just talk about that tomorrow, all right?”

          But without further seconds, I just found staring at him lying on the grass; he passed out.