Storms - chapter 3

I am releasing a song every month or so for the next little while. Together, these songs will make up an album called ‘Storms’. With each song I’ll release a chapter of a story. Together, the chapters will tell a tale of two childhood friends - Jacob and June. The songs are part of this story. The album and the story each stand alone. But both are expressions of a strange and difficult love. A love that insisted on existing. These words and melodies are the best I could do, even if the love had something else in mind.

The sun scorches the city streets. Jacob runs, his back burning in the sun. It’s a cruel companion. He passes through the shade of a tree and feels the cool embrace of relief, but then he misses the burn and welcomes the return of his fiery friend. He is on his way to meet June. He woke up to a message from her: Meet me at the plaza at midday. There’s something I need to tell you.

He glides through hot air. His motion is fluid. He and the air are not separate, they are one thing, like a wave in water. Jacob learnt to walk late. His parents were beginning to wonder whether he ever would. But then one day he was sitting on the grass in the front yard and he stood up and ran across the lawn and out the front gate and kept running until his mother caught him, a few metres from the highway.

At first he didn’t walk at all, he only ran. And he was fast from the beginning. Light footed and graceful. He loved to run. He ran from one side of the room to the other. He ran to school. And then to university. He ran to his friend’s house five suburbs away. He ran to the arcade parlour. Wherever he went, he ran. And he ran just to run, with nowhere to go.

He ran to meet June the first time they kissed.

When he was nine he told his mother he had run 4322 steps from school. She took his bag off his back and smiled and kissed him and said ‘my little running man’. She didn’t realise that this was a precise measurement. His mind counts things. Steps, days, stars, heartbeats, kisses. He’s not aware that he’s doing it. There is a program running in a minimised tab on the desktop of his mind that he can click on. All the figures are there.

June knew before anyone did. In grade three she came over after school carrying a jar of jelly beans. There had been a competition to guess the number.

‘You won, well done Juni’ Jacob’s mum said.

‘Jacob won and gave them to me.’ June replied.

‘How many were there?’

‘378.’ Jacob said, with a mouth full of peanut butter sandwich.

‘Jacob can count the leaves on trees. He counts everything.’ June told his mother, matter of factly.

His parents started to cotton on. So they ran experiments to see how accurate his counts were. The numbers were flawless.

Jacob arrives and the automatic doors slide open for him. The plaza is melting. It’s a ghost town. A few red-eyed zombies walking around in a hot daze. Shopkeepers sweating at counters fanning themselves with magazines. Crying red-cheeked children tugging on the arms of exhausted parents pushing shopping trolleys and dreaming of other lives.

June stands beside the claw machine in jean shorts, singlet and bare feet. She’s holding a fluffy pink alien.

‘I got one.’ She says, handing him the toy.

‘Thanks.’ Jacob says. ‘I haven’t seen you in a while. Where have you been?’

‘I’ve been having strange thoughts.’

‘For a change.’ Jacob taps her on the arm. ‘What are we doing here? It’s a thousand degrees.’

‘Welcome to the apocalypse.’

‘It was good while it lasted.’ Jacob smiles.

‘Kiss me before the world ends?’

‘Huh?’

‘Kiss me Creep, before I change my mind.’

‘What are you talking about?’

June moves closer to Jacob. She puts her lips on his. And then quickly she takes them away. Jacob’s eyes are closed, June is watching him. Then he feels her lips return, this time they stay longer and press harder. He opens his eyes and she is watching him. She pulls away and takes a step back.

Jacob records two kisses.

June has a look of concentration on her face. Her brain is chewing over the experience, tasting it. Jacob tries to catch his thoughts but they are flying too fast. It’s been the two of them for so long.

Now there are six of them: Jacob and June as they have always been. But suddenly for Jacob there is a new June and for June a new Jacob. And for Jacob a new Jacob and for June a new June. 2+2+2=6.

The six have not yet coalesced, suspended at first in a primordial goo of feeling that is sticky and strange.

‘Creep.’ June whispers. Jacob isn’t sure whether it is a statement or a question. Or both.

‘Creep.’ Jacob says, in answer to the question.

The mystery weaves the chrysalis from strings of ancient light.

June starts to walk backwards and says, ‘So I’ll see you tonight?’

‘What’s tonight?’

‘Butch Cassidy is on at the Astor.’

Jacob never misses a screening of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid at the Astor cinema, but in this moment he has forgotten everything.

‘Yes. I’ll be there.’

Jacob watches June walk away slowly. And then she turns and says, ‘Hey, can you let me know when we get to a thousand?’

‘A thousand what?’

‘Kisses.’