Yellow

You meet her on a beach like you’ve never quite seen a beach before. It’s dark, and all you hear are the waves that are smashing against the corals and the sand. She’s lighting a bonfire which makes you smile. You’re by yourself, but one of her friends speaks to you. She turns around and even though it’s dark, you think she looks familiar. Maybe it’s the hair. Or that fire that is reflecting from her eyes. You can’t quite figure it out but you’re sure she’s pretty. And you’re sure that in that specific fraction of a second, she was actually giving you a ‘look’. She recognises you’re accent and asks you to say something. You totally misunderstand and feel slightly embarrassed. You decide to not join them and instead go home. Alone.

You meet her again the next day. She’s playing with a little girl. She’s loud and sweaty, wears a mix of baggy and tight clothes. You realise she can’t be older than twenty but you do find her very attractive. You drink your beer and leave thinking about more important things such as what it is you’re actually doing with your life and what it is you are actually seeking on that island.

A few days later you bump into her at a bar. There’s live music and she’s with a friend. You discover they only just met and both have such interesting things to say. About life. About the road. About themselves. You finally figure out who she reminds you of. It’s that Brazilian model, Giselle. You randomly think that she will look a lot like her in a year or two. You drink your beers and smoke cigarettes, waiting for the game to start. She leaves you at the bar to sit in a corner where she can see the band better. You notice her singing along and you smile. “Damn, she’s pretty!” At some point she comes back and makes it clear thats she supports the other team. You make some silly joke. Then, somehow you tell her that there’s more important things in life. You tell her who you are, what you did, and why you are all by yourself on that damn little island.  She tells you that she was travelling for 6 months, that she dances, that you should never stop looking for your passion, doing what you love or what you believe in. You realise you’re at least seven years older. She still has to go to college, have a proper relationship, fall down and get up again only to see that the world has changed quite a lot in those 3 seconds that she was on the ground. You try to explain, but then end up just smiling. You wish she was a bit older so you could ask her to come home with you. Your favourite team wins. You go home. Alone.

It’s your last day on the island. She’s at the same bar listening to the same band. She says something about singing that song Yellow with them, on Saturday. She’s leaving on Saturday. “Today is Tuesday…”, you think, “…maybe Wednesday”. You ask her to come to the beach with you, just smoke something and stare at a bonfire. She thinks about it but says no. You pretend you’re indifferent but you actually want her to come. You are not sure why, it’s not like anything would ever happen but you realise you enjoy her company more than most other people’s company. When you come back, she’s still there, close to the bar. You explain you came back to use the toilet and that it’s late and you have a boat to catch the next morning. Somehow you end up talking about other things, and you almost want to say “Wait for me while I pee” but then realise how silly that sounds and you blush. When you’re back, she’s gone. You go home. Alone.

You are never going to see her again.

A few days later you are in a completely different place. You walk down the street with a different girl. Not as pretty. Not as interesting. You had a long day behind you, visiting temples and drinking coffee. And while you’re almost there, you see her again. “Motherfucker” you think to yourself only to realise that you spoke it out loud. She sees you a second later, and her face lights up. You hug like you had not seen each other in years. She’s so close that you can smell her hair and it smells nice. You also notice that she’s not wearing any shoes and think “Ahh, that’s so her”, as if you had known her for a lifetime. She explains where she stays. You promise to go visit.

You meet her in the evening. She’s with another girl and with a guy who seems to be scribbling stuff in a notebook. You remember you too had a notebook that looks like  ‘On The Road’ by Jack Kerouac. You wanted to ask her to write something in it but then you forgot. She notices you eventually and runs to you. You go back and sit with them and watch the band. The band is incredibly good and you can’t stop singing along. You sit closer to her and talk. She says that she never got to sing Yellow on the island. That makes you sad. Even though you always hated that cringeworthy song, you suddenly would like to hear her sing it. You ask her if she wants to do it with this band. Her face says that she’d love to, but she’s too shy. You want to hug her then because she feels adorable in that moment of insecurity, but she says no. She goes to bed. You go to bed. You text the next day but it’s too late. She’s on a plane to Europe. You’re on a plane to Singapore. You think about it and realise how you behaved like a child. How you blushed or were uncomfortable saying something that might destroy that balance. But you don’t feel bad about it because it had been such a long long time since something like that happened.  A time before you knew about complicated relationships, discussions about moving in and broken rearview mirrors. You feel like a kid and you smile.

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You meet her in a bar, like a million other bars. She looks nice, just like every other nice looking girl. You don’t wonder who she is or whether she might be reminding you of anyone else you’ve met. There’s no fire in her eyes but you do miss some female attention. You buy her a drink and talk about what she does. You tell her what you used to do, with a hint of a broken heart that in reality has vanished a very long time ago. You call a cab and go to your place where you open a bottle of very nice Shiraz. You watch some movie on TV, she puts her head on your shoulder. You smell her hair which smells of a fruity conditioner. You start kissing. You take her clothes off and half naked you go to your bedroom. You stumble to find a condom and you sleep with her. It feels nice. You talk about meaningless stuff and she asks you if you can hold her. You wish you had cigarettes but then remember you don’t actually smoke. You have sex again. It’s 5 AM and she has to go to work in a couple of hours so you call a taxi. You go down with her to make sure the driver is all right. He is. You give her a plastic hug and say ‘speak soon’. Going back to bed you realise that you’re all grown up: “This is how things are now”.  You sigh craving those cigarettes a little more and then think to yourself: “Such a motherfucker”, only to realise that, in fact, you said it out loud.

“Everyone had a friend in every wisp of cloud/ that’s how it is with friends where the world is full of fear/ even my mother said, that’s how it is/ friends are out of the question/ think of more serious things.”

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this post are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Especially to you, Sarah G! 😀

 

 

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Categories: Thoughts

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