Chapter 3:Eva
1236 Words
The café where we gathered was cozy, but tonight it felt strangely cramped. My best friend, Sam, was leaving. Not for a few weeks. Not for a month. Possibly forever. Australia felt as distant to me as another planet.
He was sitting at the table with his friends, laughing and joking as if this were just another day. But I could see he was nervous, even though it was almost imperceptible. His hands trembled slightly when he brought his cup to his lips, and his eyes kept darting back to his watch, as if checking how much time he had left.
Sam, as always, looked impeccable: a light linen blazer, a black turtleneck, and perfectly tailored trousers. His hair was styled just slightly messy, but I knew it had taken him at least half an hour to achieve that look.
“You know, the coffee in Australia is amazing,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“Amazing coffee? That’s all you’ve got for me?” I quipped, looking at him with mock disapproval. “You’re moving to the other side of the world, Sam. Give me something more impressive. Make me genuinely happy for you.”
“Alright,” he leaned forward. “There are beaches that stretch for miles. The water’s so clear you can see your shadow on the bottom.”
“Not bad,” I nodded, trying not to show how hard it was to hear that his life would go on without me.
At the table were his friends: Nick, with his perpetual half-smile and slightly disheveled appearance; Tom, Sam’s ex-boyfriend, relaxed with an almost hypnotic calm energy; and Eric, who always seemed like the odd one out in the group. His T-shirt with the word “DOOM” looked both ridiculous and somehow perfect in this setting.
The conversation at the table flowed easily, but I barely listened. One thought kept pounding in my head: “Sam is leaving.”
When it was time to say goodbye, he came to me first.
“You’ll be okay,” he said, hugging me tightly. His arms were strong and warm, as always.
“I’ll be okay if you call me every week,” I replied, clinging to him as if trying to absorb his warmth.
“Of course. And you call me too.”
I just nodded because if I tried to speak, my voice would have wavered.
“Eva,” he pulled back and looked me in the eyes, “you’re stronger than you think. You just don’t know it yet.”
When Sam hugged me, I felt a lump rise in my throat. His warmth had always been my anchor, and now I had to let him go. I wanted to say something, but the words got stuck inside. Instead, I just held on tighter.
When Sam left, I felt hollow. Riding back from the airport in a taxi, the world outside seemed too big, too cold. When we got out of the car, Amber walked beside me silently, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie. She didn’t say anything, but I knew she was watching me.
“The Hollow Lights have a concert tonight,” I said, breaking the silence. I said it casually, but who was I kidding? I hadn’t missed one of their shows in years.
“Of course, they do. It’s perfect for your mood,” she said with a slight shake of her head.
“Will you come with me?”
“You know I’m not a fan of that scene.”
“But will you come?”
She sighed and turned to look at me.
“Fine. Just so I can drag you out of there afterward.”
When we entered, the noise hit me like a wave. People were jostling, shouting into each other’s ears, and the glare of stage lights cut through the dim space. The air smelled of tobacco and sweat, but somehow it didn’t bother me. It was part of the atmosphere. The crowd had gathered tightly near the stage, buzzing with anticipation. Amber and I took our usual spot by the wall.
“I still think this is your way of running from reality,” she remarked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But better this than sitting around and sulking.”
She snorted but didn’t say anything else.
The lights dimmed, and the crowd came alive. One by one, the members of The Hollow Lights came on stage, but everyone was waiting for the last one. When Jayden appeared, the room erupted in screams.
He looked like every spotlight in the room was made just for him, and he knew it. A leather jacket with silver studs, a mesh shirt that barely concealed his chest with two rings of piercing, glistening skin adorned with tattoos.
His tattoos were eclectic: gothic cathedral spires on one side of his chest, chaotic patterns on the other that faded into thin lines. On his neck, there was an arch that transitioned into stylized geometry over his shoulders.
He grabbed the mic, licked his lips, and the crowd roared.
“You know what he’s doing?” Amber said, watching him. “He’s just playing on people’s weaknesses. This isn’t about music; it’s about power.”
“Or maybe it’s just art?” I replied, my eyes glued to him.
“Maybe. But look at them. Do you really think they’re here for the art?”
I didn’t answer, but inside I felt his movements, his voice, his gaze pulling the ground out from under me.
When he started singing, his voice was so deep and raspy it filled the space completely. He moved on stage like a graceful predator, making sudden, sharp gestures one moment and swaying rhythmically the next.
By the third song, he took off the mesh shirt and tossed it into the crowd. His bare torso revealed even more tattoos, and I found myself staring at the intricate designs, captivated.
After the fourth song, he suddenly climbed onto a speaker, balanced there for a moment, and then leaped back down, snatching a guitar from one of the band members. The crowd roared.
When it was over, we stepped outside. The air was cold, and I inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the ringing in my ears.
“So? Did you enjoy it this time?” I finally turned to Amber.
“I’ll say this: he’s the perfect example of how the patriarchal world loves to turn men into gods and women into adoring crowds.”
“This is rock ‘n’ roll, Am. Nobody’s forcing them to scream.”
“No, but he encourages it. It’s still objectification, even if it’s of himself,” she said. “And you like it, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” I admitted.
She just smirked.
“I’m not going to argue with you. But do you know what bothers me the most?” Amber asked.
“What?”
“The way you look at him.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Everything. You look at him like he’s special. But he’s just another guy using his charm and looks to get as many girls like you into his bed as possible.”
I didn’t respond. The music was still echoing in my head, and his image remained vividly before my eyes.
- Writer
