My Place

I had waited for this moment for awhile, standing here in the semi darkness, listening to the hum of nocturnal insect life. The air was warm like it was supposed to be this time of the year. The air smelt like summer too, a grassy smell that dulled my senses. It was neither dry, nor particularly wet, and a hushed sigh disturbed the quiet of the treetops somewhere in the distance. The wall against which I leaned still felt comfortably warm to the touch, all these hours after sundown.

A particularly persistent moth had found its way to the flickering fluorescent light a little way down the street. Though attached with a bungee rope, it would draw away, then slam into the light at whatever speed it would gather, stagger in midair, then fly away again only to repeat the process. It hurt me just watching it, so I turned away.

There was no fluorescent light here, only the paleness of the concrete and the darkness of red-brick. I wasn’t quite sure where the light came from, as the moon was not yet in the sky. At least, I could not see it from here. The sky itself was a swirling pattern of lighter clouds and darker sky, with diamond pins of stars scattered around the cotton lightness. They seemed muffled, the stars I mean. I scuffed one shoe against the ground in boredom and watched as a fleck of rock came loose from the deteriorating walkway. There were buildings on one side, river on the other, and trees some where along the other bank; it was more of a stream than anything else. A giant open sewerage pipe that didn’t smell quite so bad.

A web of spun wire separated the river and I. The fence was quite climbable and green as the local council had gone on a “make Canterbury Green” campaign, and literally painted everything green. To top it all off, green (grey in this light, or lack of) weeds surged from the cracked end of the walkway like, well… weeds. They came up to around my knees, some of the longer stems. I watched as various objects floated along, bobbing up and down in the meandering current. Great, I was bored enough to watch grass grow and rubbish float down a river.

Ah! Finally, I heard the gate swings open with a high pitched “creeeeaaaak”. The crunch of gravel as they passed through the narrow bit between the building and the fence, a rattle of wires as and a soft curse (no doubt he had scratched himself flipping the fence again) then finally, the shuffling of shoes on concrete. Here he comes, and I straighten up from my reclining against the wall. A black blob of a bobbing hat was seen first, above the low wall blocking him from me. A head emerges, followed by shoulders and a body as he hauls himself up the wall. For the first time, the body seemed cumbersome in contrast to my agility, but I lacked strength to make up for it.

He looks up, and flashes a smile at me. I feel my face respond unconsciously and my heart involuntarily sings. All 180cms and 75 kilos of that body eventually made its way towards where I was standing. Together, we made a strange shadow upon the ground, one side was uncommonly small, the other uncommonly large, as though looking through a distorted mirror in one of those fun houses at carnivals. Still we made a good team. He flicked the blade of grass he had been toying with and it shot away into the bushes of weeds as a small bullet of cellulite, water and other planty stuff. Obviously I hadn’t paid much attention to biology for awhile. I followed it with my gaze, knowing I would not be able to find where it landed, but tried nonetheless. Anything to look away.

A warm palm replaced where the warm wall had been on my back, except this time, it was softer.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

I looked up at him, face dark against the backdrop of the swirling sky. He was smiling, like he always was.

“Why the hurry, we’ve got all night.”

He looked away, surveying out surroundings then, most probably (it was dark, a bit hard to see), scrunched his thick features in distaste. Disbelief at my wanting to stay here was confirmed in his scoff. I looked into the river too, following his eyes, trying to see what he saw, what he perceived as being so bad about this place. At least there was privacy. I kept looking until my world seemed to rotate 90 degrees sideways and drop a meter and half or so lower. Yeah, I got manhandled. Next thing I know, I was being contently bumped along on his back, being taken away from my moth, my fluorescent light, my river and my fence. Giggling was not something that is approved of by me, but special occasion called for special circumstances.

One last look back and I noted that he smelt nice today. His father must’ve changed the aftershave…