Hearts on Air
Page 44
“I don’t have a genre, remember? Unless introverted piano lady is a genre.”
“I think I saw that one listed on Spotify the other day.”
“Ha-ha.”
We shared a look and Trev reached down to interlace his fingers with mine. I let him, because it felt nice. I realised with some surprise that I rarely ever held hands with anyone these days. It was something I did all the time as a child, but not so much anymore. I was pretty sure that the last person I really truly held hands with was David. And I wasn’t talking about a casual touch or grab, but a proper skin-to-skin intertwining of fingers. The kind between lovers. That was shocking, because David and I broke up almost a year ago. Had I not felt this sort of touch in all that time? The thought was sobering.
“You okay?” Trev asked, probably wondering if he was crossing a line.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I just, um, I kind of miss holding hands with people.”
His eyebrows jumped. It must not have been what he expected me to say. “You do?”
“Yes, don’t you? I think more adults should do it. Why don’t we hold hands when we get older?”
Trev lifted a shoulder, his attention on me focused. “I suppose because it has a sexual connotation. Adults hold hands when they’re, ya know, doin’ it.”
I rolled my eyes at his phrasing. “Yeah, but friends can hold hands, too.”
“Did you know that Arabic men hold hands?” James put in, overhearing our conversation. “It’s a cultural thing. It doesn’t have the romantic undertones, for them it’s simply a sign of friendship.”
“Really?” I asked. “I never knew that.”
“It’s true. Because the sexes are more segregated in certain Middle Eastern countries, with men spending a lot of time with other men, it developed as a means of showing affection and close friendship.”
“You mean like human to human?” I asked.
“Basically. I read an interesting article about it once.”
“That’s kind of nice. I like that idea. We all need affection. It doesn’t always have to be sexual.”
“I agree,” Paul put in. “When I don’t get a hug for a couple of days I turn into a right grumpy bastard.”
“Aw, I’ll give you a hug anytime, shnookums,” Trev teased before his attention returned to me. He didn’t say anything, but his expression was thoughtful.
When we arrived back outside everything sped up. When I finally had a chance to catch a break, I found a place to sit and just watched the group prepare. My phone rang and I pulled it out to see Karla’s name on the screen. A smiled tugged at my lips as I reached around to switch off my mic. It was so easy to forget I was wearing it.
“Hey, Karla, how’s everything?” I answered happily. It had only been a few days, but I still missed talking to her.
“Good. The usual. How’s the filming coming along?”
“Well so far. We’re on location right now, actually. You should see the stunt they’re about to pull off—”
“No spoilers! Don’t tell me anything,” she insisted.
I chuckled. “Okay, you loon. I won’t spoil anything for you. Just know, you’re going to be on the edge of your seat. We’re at this museum, but the building is like nothing you’ve ever seen before.” I watched as the film crew shot the group running up the crisscrossed stairs within the columns at the foundation of the structure. Trev was the first to reach the top, and he began to climb towards one of the giant steel tubes. He was hooked up with all sorts of protective climbing gear, but my heart still fluttered with nerves. It really did look dangerous.
“Reya, did you hear what I said?”
“No, sorry. I got distracted. Do you know how many documentary makers get killed while filming?”
“Not the foggiest. Why?”
“I was just wondering if there was some kind of statistic to look at. I mean, you never really hear about stuff like that, but it must happen. You see all those guys who get up real close with tigers and gorillas and other dangerous animals. Surely, the tigers must freak out and attack them sometimes.”
“Trev’s not getting up close with a tiger, Reya,” she said, obviously sensing the direction of my thoughts.
“I know, but he might as well be. You should see what he’s doing right now. It’s seriously risky.”
“That boy came out of the womb doing backflips. He never stops practicing and he knows what he’s doing, so relax. What I really want to know is how things have been between you two.”
“Tense. Friendly. Different. Scary,” I answered all at once.
Karla laughed. “That good, huh?”
“I should’ve listened to you when you told me not to come.”
“I don’t know. I can be too judgmental sometimes. Maybe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
“You think?”
“It’s the best way to look at it. Regretting stuff is pointless anyway. You’re there now. You just need to deal with whatever hurdles come your way.”
“I’m jealous of him,” I blurted without thinking.
“Of Trev?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t think so. I never really thought about it.”
I huffed a breath. “Maybe jealous is the wrong word. I just . . . I envy him. What he has. He seems to know exactly what he wants from life. I have no idea what I want.”
“You want to play music.”
“Yeah but, is that really a worthwhile pursuit? Could I be doing something a little more productive? There was this kid on set the other day. A teenager from South Africa, and he looked at Trev like he embodied all the possibilities of his future. He’s making a difference, showing kids from shitty backgrounds they can achieve more than what society dictates. He’s like a . . . a gatekeeper to hope.”
“A gatekeeper to hope?” She sounded amused.
I sighed. “You know what I mean. I guess I’m just envious of how everything’s fallen into place for him, whereas I’m the same age and my life feels like a frickin’ bundle of knotted thread. A directionless mess.”
She seemed to be considering what I said because she was quiet a moment before she spoke. “Well, think about it this way. If your life was perfect, if you lived on a cloud, your music would be shit. Your songs ring true because you’ve endured the stuff you’re singing about, you still are enduring it. I’ve seen people connect with you on a level that’s deeper than anything Trev has ever done. No offence to him or anything. Hell, the first time I saw you perform it was like a transcendental experience.”
“I think I saw that one listed on Spotify the other day.”
“Ha-ha.”
We shared a look and Trev reached down to interlace his fingers with mine. I let him, because it felt nice. I realised with some surprise that I rarely ever held hands with anyone these days. It was something I did all the time as a child, but not so much anymore. I was pretty sure that the last person I really truly held hands with was David. And I wasn’t talking about a casual touch or grab, but a proper skin-to-skin intertwining of fingers. The kind between lovers. That was shocking, because David and I broke up almost a year ago. Had I not felt this sort of touch in all that time? The thought was sobering.
“You okay?” Trev asked, probably wondering if he was crossing a line.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I just, um, I kind of miss holding hands with people.”
His eyebrows jumped. It must not have been what he expected me to say. “You do?”
“Yes, don’t you? I think more adults should do it. Why don’t we hold hands when we get older?”
Trev lifted a shoulder, his attention on me focused. “I suppose because it has a sexual connotation. Adults hold hands when they’re, ya know, doin’ it.”
I rolled my eyes at his phrasing. “Yeah, but friends can hold hands, too.”
“Did you know that Arabic men hold hands?” James put in, overhearing our conversation. “It’s a cultural thing. It doesn’t have the romantic undertones, for them it’s simply a sign of friendship.”
“Really?” I asked. “I never knew that.”
“It’s true. Because the sexes are more segregated in certain Middle Eastern countries, with men spending a lot of time with other men, it developed as a means of showing affection and close friendship.”
“You mean like human to human?” I asked.
“Basically. I read an interesting article about it once.”
“That’s kind of nice. I like that idea. We all need affection. It doesn’t always have to be sexual.”
“I agree,” Paul put in. “When I don’t get a hug for a couple of days I turn into a right grumpy bastard.”
“Aw, I’ll give you a hug anytime, shnookums,” Trev teased before his attention returned to me. He didn’t say anything, but his expression was thoughtful.
When we arrived back outside everything sped up. When I finally had a chance to catch a break, I found a place to sit and just watched the group prepare. My phone rang and I pulled it out to see Karla’s name on the screen. A smiled tugged at my lips as I reached around to switch off my mic. It was so easy to forget I was wearing it.
“Hey, Karla, how’s everything?” I answered happily. It had only been a few days, but I still missed talking to her.
“Good. The usual. How’s the filming coming along?”
“Well so far. We’re on location right now, actually. You should see the stunt they’re about to pull off—”
“No spoilers! Don’t tell me anything,” she insisted.
I chuckled. “Okay, you loon. I won’t spoil anything for you. Just know, you’re going to be on the edge of your seat. We’re at this museum, but the building is like nothing you’ve ever seen before.” I watched as the film crew shot the group running up the crisscrossed stairs within the columns at the foundation of the structure. Trev was the first to reach the top, and he began to climb towards one of the giant steel tubes. He was hooked up with all sorts of protective climbing gear, but my heart still fluttered with nerves. It really did look dangerous.
“Reya, did you hear what I said?”
“No, sorry. I got distracted. Do you know how many documentary makers get killed while filming?”
“Not the foggiest. Why?”
“I was just wondering if there was some kind of statistic to look at. I mean, you never really hear about stuff like that, but it must happen. You see all those guys who get up real close with tigers and gorillas and other dangerous animals. Surely, the tigers must freak out and attack them sometimes.”
“Trev’s not getting up close with a tiger, Reya,” she said, obviously sensing the direction of my thoughts.
“I know, but he might as well be. You should see what he’s doing right now. It’s seriously risky.”
“That boy came out of the womb doing backflips. He never stops practicing and he knows what he’s doing, so relax. What I really want to know is how things have been between you two.”
“Tense. Friendly. Different. Scary,” I answered all at once.
Karla laughed. “That good, huh?”
“I should’ve listened to you when you told me not to come.”
“I don’t know. I can be too judgmental sometimes. Maybe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
“You think?”
“It’s the best way to look at it. Regretting stuff is pointless anyway. You’re there now. You just need to deal with whatever hurdles come your way.”
“I’m jealous of him,” I blurted without thinking.
“Of Trev?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t think so. I never really thought about it.”
I huffed a breath. “Maybe jealous is the wrong word. I just . . . I envy him. What he has. He seems to know exactly what he wants from life. I have no idea what I want.”
“You want to play music.”
“Yeah but, is that really a worthwhile pursuit? Could I be doing something a little more productive? There was this kid on set the other day. A teenager from South Africa, and he looked at Trev like he embodied all the possibilities of his future. He’s making a difference, showing kids from shitty backgrounds they can achieve more than what society dictates. He’s like a . . . a gatekeeper to hope.”
“A gatekeeper to hope?” She sounded amused.
I sighed. “You know what I mean. I guess I’m just envious of how everything’s fallen into place for him, whereas I’m the same age and my life feels like a frickin’ bundle of knotted thread. A directionless mess.”
She seemed to be considering what I said because she was quiet a moment before she spoke. “Well, think about it this way. If your life was perfect, if you lived on a cloud, your music would be shit. Your songs ring true because you’ve endured the stuff you’re singing about, you still are enduring it. I’ve seen people connect with you on a level that’s deeper than anything Trev has ever done. No offence to him or anything. Hell, the first time I saw you perform it was like a transcendental experience.”
