fondly.” And she left.
The next few months were full of telephone calls and apartment searches, and then life settled into its new, lovely routine. She took long baths with an almost unseemly amount of water and dried herself off with towels that felt wickedly decadent.
One evening she stepped off of the subway, and saw that same man staring at the skyline. She stood beside him, shading her eyes with her gloved hand to see what he saw.
“This city, it’s so extraordinary,” he said to her. He didn’t pull his gaze from the brick buildings. “I could watch it all day. So much life, so much beauty.”
She saw it, felt the life of the city running through her veins in a way that she had never understood before. Being so close to a person in love...well, it must have a way of rubbing off on you, she thought.
“Look at that window there,” she said, and pointed. “I imagine that there is a lovely woman inside, playing the piano. Do you know why I think this? Look at the way the sun is hitting that particular window. It’s making rainbows there, but not on any of the others. That window is a place where magic happens.”
The man tilted his head for a second, pondering the window, and then he turned to look, really look at her.
She nodded her head once, for yes, this was just right, and then her heels tapped smartly away. She felt him watching her until she was out of sight.
MUSIC TO JUMP BY
The first time that I saw him, Vel had no bones. He lounged on the chair like he was melting into it, and I came to learn that was the way he always was. He watched the room with dark eyes that seemed half closed and lazy, but were really alert and bright. Not that anybody would know this.
Vel undraped himself from the chair and walked my way. I stood in the doorway, peering into the dark room, my eyes still adjusting to the lack of light.
“It’s okay to come inside,” he said, and reached out his hand.
I hesitantly took it, and his skeleton felt firm and strangely cool under his skin. And really, that’s where it all began.
—
Vel was my boyfriend’s roommate at the time, and even after the breakup, Vel and I remained close. He’d swing by at night, letting himself in through the upstairs window that never quite shut all of the way. This never bothered me. He was constantly burning his CDs, making eclectic new mixes for every occasion. Music for the Sea , for example, and Boring Songs for Lame Weddings . I especially loved his Music to Drive the Neighbors Mad mix; it was spectacularly loud with a gritty beat. Vel was a genius.
But he was unpredictable, and sometimes that made him scary.
“Vel,” I said, and shook his shoulder gently. He had fallen asleep on my bed while I was out getting groceries. He didn’t move.
“Vel!”
“Go away.”
His voice was very low and already sounded dangerous, but I didn’t have the patience to deal with it right then.
“You have to wake up.”
He raised his head and the look in his eyes made me take a step back, snatching my hand away.
“I said, go away.”
And I did. Simple as that. He gets like that sometimes, and it was far better just to back off instead of trying to bully him out of it. After making dinner, I tiptoed upstairs to see if he wanted any, but he had already left through the window. This didn’t surprise me.
One day he slipped a CD into my hands. He held it a little too long, a little too delicately, and the back of my head tingled. I knew there was something important about it.
“What’s this?” I asked, turning it over in my hands. There was no title, no table of contents. Except for the gentle way he ran his finger down the plastic before handing it over, it could have been just any blank CD in a generic case.
“Nothing special,” he said.
“You’re lying.”
He grinned, and it both warmed and chilled me at the same time.
“Keep a hold of it, will you?”
That night, I slipped it into my player and sat on the corner of
The next few months were full of telephone calls and apartment searches, and then life settled into its new, lovely routine. She took long baths with an almost unseemly amount of water and dried herself off with towels that felt wickedly decadent.
One evening she stepped off of the subway, and saw that same man staring at the skyline. She stood beside him, shading her eyes with her gloved hand to see what he saw.
“This city, it’s so extraordinary,” he said to her. He didn’t pull his gaze from the brick buildings. “I could watch it all day. So much life, so much beauty.”
She saw it, felt the life of the city running through her veins in a way that she had never understood before. Being so close to a person in love...well, it must have a way of rubbing off on you, she thought.
“Look at that window there,” she said, and pointed. “I imagine that there is a lovely woman inside, playing the piano. Do you know why I think this? Look at the way the sun is hitting that particular window. It’s making rainbows there, but not on any of the others. That window is a place where magic happens.”
The man tilted his head for a second, pondering the window, and then he turned to look, really look at her.
She nodded her head once, for yes, this was just right, and then her heels tapped smartly away. She felt him watching her until she was out of sight.
MUSIC TO JUMP BY
The first time that I saw him, Vel had no bones. He lounged on the chair like he was melting into it, and I came to learn that was the way he always was. He watched the room with dark eyes that seemed half closed and lazy, but were really alert and bright. Not that anybody would know this.
Vel undraped himself from the chair and walked my way. I stood in the doorway, peering into the dark room, my eyes still adjusting to the lack of light.
“It’s okay to come inside,” he said, and reached out his hand.
I hesitantly took it, and his skeleton felt firm and strangely cool under his skin. And really, that’s where it all began.
—
Vel was my boyfriend’s roommate at the time, and even after the breakup, Vel and I remained close. He’d swing by at night, letting himself in through the upstairs window that never quite shut all of the way. This never bothered me. He was constantly burning his CDs, making eclectic new mixes for every occasion. Music for the Sea , for example, and Boring Songs for Lame Weddings . I especially loved his Music to Drive the Neighbors Mad mix; it was spectacularly loud with a gritty beat. Vel was a genius.
But he was unpredictable, and sometimes that made him scary.
“Vel,” I said, and shook his shoulder gently. He had fallen asleep on my bed while I was out getting groceries. He didn’t move.
“Vel!”
“Go away.”
His voice was very low and already sounded dangerous, but I didn’t have the patience to deal with it right then.
“You have to wake up.”
He raised his head and the look in his eyes made me take a step back, snatching my hand away.
“I said, go away.”
And I did. Simple as that. He gets like that sometimes, and it was far better just to back off instead of trying to bully him out of it. After making dinner, I tiptoed upstairs to see if he wanted any, but he had already left through the window. This didn’t surprise me.
One day he slipped a CD into my hands. He held it a little too long, a little too delicately, and the back of my head tingled. I knew there was something important about it.
“What’s this?” I asked, turning it over in my hands. There was no title, no table of contents. Except for the gentle way he ran his finger down the plastic before handing it over, it could have been just any blank CD in a generic case.
“Nothing special,” he said.
“You’re lying.”
He grinned, and it both warmed and chilled me at the same time.
“Keep a hold of it, will you?”
That night, I slipped it into my player and sat on the corner of
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