Chapter Eleven: Finding the Attic

Finding the Attic

I suddenly realised that I might never see… whoever this mystery girl was ever again. No… no! I will not let her go!

I quickly took her hand. She stared at my hand, wrapped around hers. I held them as gently as I could, hoping the fragile things would not break.

I tried to control my shaking voice. “Look… I know that you will think I am a proper loon for asking this. I do not even know if you will trust me enough…” I sighed, rubbing my face with my other hand. “But you see, I would really love to get to know you. I am trying to be charitable today.” A smile tugged at her rose bud lips, contrasting her sorrowful eyes. “I live in a flat, just around the corner from here. It happens that I have a guest room…” I peered at her out of the corner of my eye hopefully. “That always seems to be empty. And I am asking you…” I got down on my knees and scooted over to her seat, refusing to let go of her hand, “out of the depths of my heart…” I clasped her hand in both of mine, “to please, please, PLEASE…” I looked up into the big, brown sea of her eyes, “come and stay in it.”

I remained on my knees and kept looking at her. “No fee, no charge, no obligations, no nothing. All I ask is that you stay there and I will love you forever.” I said, half laughing and smiling. I tried to look as sad as possible. I could not lose this fight.

I waited a moment.

A smile crept onto her face and she seemed to be a bit teary. I stood as she shook her head, nodding continuously.

“Yes… yes, yes, yes!” She threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my chest.

“Fank you…” she muffled, letting out a little laugh. “Thank you so much, you have no idea how much this means to me.” She smiled up at me. She kept thanking me until I finally stopped her, saying she could thank me by simply doing what I had asked. She stopped for a bit, but continued to smile; it never left her face.

And I wondered…

What will Tanya think of her?

*

I could not believe what Matt had just asked me. Right now, it was like he had just asked me to marry him.

We sat back down, only to realise that we had barely eaten anything. I had a half full cup of tea and I had barely touched my food. I put my hand on my stomach and suddenly realised it was growling. I looked up at Matt, who was staring down at his plate. I laughed. “How long have we been talking?” Matt checked his watch.

“Oh my gosh. It is almost half past seven!” he exclaimed. My mouth dropped and hit the ground, I swear. “We have been talking for two whole hours?” I sat back in my chair, suddenly feeling all the energy drain out of me. “Oh, shit, I better get moving…” I stopped in mid stand up. “Never mind.” I laughed at my forgetfulness. Come on, Ingo, the best day of your life and you can not even remember it?

I sat back down. “Do you want to eat this stuff now or do you believe in re-heating and stuff?”

“ I am thinking we should just eat it now. Besides, my refrigerators are getting full.”

We started stuffing our past in our mouths. I was halfway through the silent eating when I thought of something. “Did you say refrigerators?”

He looked up at me, eyebrows slanted. “Em… yeah. You know, those things that keep your food preserved…”

“Yes, yes, I know; but I mean you said refrigeratorsssss.” His expression did not change. “Um, every body has a refrigerator.”

I laughed. “No Matt, I mean that most families only have one fridge. How did you end up with two?”

He sat and thought for a moment before realising what I meant. “Oh… em… I eat… and cook…” He looked down. “A lot…”

“Hey, do not worry about it. I was just wondering what you meant. I eat a lot, too. Although, not enough to fill two refrigerators! That is quite an accomplishment!” Matt smiled, embarrassed a bit still.

We continued stuffing our faces until everything was gone. Matt puffed out his cheeks and then let the air out in a POP! He stood up straight and struck out his hand in front of me.

“May I escorteth thyself to the guitareth holdereth?” I took his hand and stood up also. “I granteth youeth permissioneth.” He put my arm in his and we walked toward my guitar. I started to pick it up when Matt waved disapprovingly. “Allow me.” He picked up my guitar and I started waving my hands like he had. “Whoa, whoa, wait!” He froze like a statue. “Yes?” he asked, turning his head toward me. “You are not going to smash that thing, right?”

He looked confused for a moment and then nodded his head. “Oh…. Smash… smash? NO! Not an acoustic. Never, ever, ever.” I heaved a sigh of relief and took his arm again, leaving momentarily to get my back pack.

We walked out of the Blackthorne. It was getting dark outside. I pulled my scarf tighter around me and let Matt guide me to his flat. We chattered about time zones and how I would get over the time shift.

We finally came to a tall, beautifully made building in white stone. Matt opened the door for me and I walked into the nice lobby. I inhaled a sweet sort of scent that dusted the air and let it out in an ahhh. I looked down at the hard wood floors, smiling when I caught a glimpse of my Chucks. Freedom, freedom, freedom… I repeated the word in my head over and over again. Besides us, the lobby was empty. It was decorated simply with a few paintings and a round wooden table in the centre on top of a red and black carpet with brochures and a large vase of flowers in it.

I quickly caught up to Matt, who’s thin body was already at the elevator. I sprinted up behind him and pressed the little white button before he could, then froze after realising that could be taken as rude. I turned quickly around, losing my balance in the process, and looked quite like a complete idiot as I steadied myself, almost falling on my butt in to the now opening elevator door.

I stumbled backwards in to the elevator a few steps and finally stopped myself. I looked up to see Matt in a daze, just staring at me. He burst out laughing.

“Wow, you really are a klutz. Next time you want to press the button just yell at me! No physical momentum is necessary!” I managed to get out a “sorry” in between embarrassed laughs. I leaned against the cold metal rail as the doors closed and Matt pressed the sixth floor button out of ten.

I crossed my arms and closed my eyes, looking up and taking a deep breath. “Thanks again for the guest room. How long have you had the flat?”

He stuffed his hand in his coat pocket. “You are very welcome. And I have had it for four or five years, I think. I can not really remember.” He thought a moment. “I think it was before Showbiz came out. So yeah, that would be about four years.”

He pulled a key out of his pocket and we exited the elevator. We walked down a couple hallways until we reached a door right next to the stairs. It was numbered 603. He started to unlock the door and saw that I was staring at the black iron steps. “Yeah, we did not take those because I did not think you would like to walk of six flights of stairs with jet lag. I would not particularly enjoy having you collapse mid way up the stairs.”

I laughed and again found myself thanking him. He again found himself telling me it was no problem. He opened the black door which led into a small hallway with a closet enclosed by wooden doors and had a small carpet in front of it. It held a couple pairs of shoes. The hallway in all was about seven feet long and six feet wide.

I observed this all in a matter of about one millisecond before we heard the unearthly screams coming from what appeared to be a living room. It was directly across from the hallway, but a small step down off a twenty foot long hardwood ledge. The living room held two leather couches at a right angle, one which had its back perpendicular to the hallway and the other couch was perpendicular to it at its right. In between there was a dark mahogany side table with a tall crème shaded lamp and books stacked on it. Parallel to the second couch was a large set of mahogany bookcases with solid doors at the bottom and two levels of glass paned doors. Those were on either side of a smaller shelf holding a television and a solid wooden door, probably holding movies. Centred in between was a large glass coffee table.

On top of this coffee table was a tall, blonde haired, blue eyed man clad in hot pink skinnies, a black polo looking shirt, and silver Chucks that perfectly matched mine. He was the source of the screaming, which I found to be his attempt to sings. He had a guitar, Matt’s silver Manson, slung around him; he was putting his fingers on random frets and strings, sadly attempting to make out a tune. He was jumping around, screaming what appeared to be Hyper Music…

“I DON’T WANT YOOOOOUUUUUUU! I NEVER DIIIIIIIIIDDDD!!!!! I DON’T WANT YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! AND I NEVERW IIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLL!”

“NO NO NO NO NO! YOU ARE DOING IT ALL WRONG! LET ME HAVE A GO AT IT!” said an extremely taller man. He had a brown shaven head and a beard and moustache. He leapt up and grabbed for the guitar. The other man, who I identified was Dom, the epic drummer, jumped around the table on his toes screaming, “NO TOUCH-Y NO TOUCH-Y!!!!” waving the guitar above his head.

“GET OFF MY BABY!” screamed Matt who, in a flash of red, sprinted up the coffee table, tickled Dom who went all bug eyed and started laughing like a hyena, and caught the guitar mid air. He then proceeded to drop back on to the couch, clutching the guitar.

“PARTY POOPER.” Yelled Dom, crossing his arms and stomping over to Chris’s couch.

“YOU GUYS ARE SO FUCKING IMMATURE!” Matt retorted.

As they all argued on I had proceeded to remove my scarf, hanging it in the closet filled with coats. I turned to my left after the hallway and entered a top of the line kitchen, also a step down off the ledge. The first thing you saw was a bar like sort of tall counter with bar stools under it. I sauntered into the space, tiled in large white… well, tile of course. On the other side of the bar was a lower counter made of a material that doubled as a cutting board. There was a deep stainless, smooth brushed metal sink with one of those cool tall and long, thin faucets. I looked around and saw the wrap around counter did indeed stop in the middle with two silver refrigerators. The counter continued and held a toaster oven, a double wall oven, a stove, a dishwasher, and my dream mixer: a KitchenAid Pro 600 Stand Mixer. I covered my mouth as I gasped, incredibly excited. I walked over to it and looked over it shiny black and silver design. Above the counter, naturally, were cabinets holding wine glasses, three different sets of plates, a ton of mixing bowls, and regular glasses. It was like being in Giada De Laurentis’ kitchen… or Ina Garten’s. It was beautiful.

I opened one of the refrigerators to see two shelves stacked with organized bowls of pasta. The top shelf held organized containers of different sauces. In the drawers on the bottom were various vegetables and fruits. On the door was a random bottle of whipped cream, A1 Steak Sauce, jam, peanut butter. I closed that door and opened the other. This refrigerator held what looked like leftover meat and other foods. There was cream cheese, butter, etc. This was the best kitchen. Ever.

I pulled out the iced tea from the fridge and poured myself a glass. I shuffled to the end of the counter and sat in one of the bar stools. Ooooo… spinny. I twirled around on the chair, enjoying it ridiculously much. The stool made a squeak and the sounds from the living room ceased. I looked up to see all eyes on me. Chris and Dom had their mouths open, gaping. I smiled and waved embarrassed.

Dom was the first to come out of his daze.

“WHOA! It is a LADY!”

Apparently my new name was LADY.

*

I walked up the side walk with Chris and up to the apartment complex where Matt lived. We raced each other up the stairs, getting shushed by some spinster on floor four.

I, being me, got to the door first and proceeded to rap on it. I received no answer.

“MATTY POO OPEN THE DOOOOOORR!”

Chris stared at me with a slanted look, like a “what the bloody hell is wrong with you” look. I stared questioningly at him. “What?”

He turned away, shaking his head, and unlocked the door. The place was empty, thankfully. I ran around the apartment making sure we were alone. I found no one.

“Thank God the bitch Matt is dating is at work. I hate that woman.”

Chris nodded. “Why are they dating again?”

“Matt is bored.” I stared meaningfully at Chris and his face contorted. “What is wrong with him? She even hates us! That should be the first sign that she is most definitely not the one.” Chris rubbed his face. “And secondly, you do not build a relationship of sex. It is just…” he shook his head, “revolting.”

I nodded. “We have got to make a plan. Maybe get someone to seduce him.”

Chris snorted. “Are you kidding me? That would be no different than what is going on right now!”

I slumped onto the cool leather couch upside down. “We could get him to go gay. But I am not going to be the one doing the gay-ness!” I looked up at Chris, who was on the other couch.

His eyes bulged. “Do not look at me! I am married for Christ’s sake!”

“Okay, okay, okay then!” I said quickly. Gee Dom, use brain, then speak!

“I am so bored.”

I looked back at Chris.

We sprinted to the holy of holies, the magnificent music room Matt kept in the hallway, padlocked. Lucky for us, he was stupid enough to keep the key on top of the door. I stood on my tip toes trying to find the key. Chris ambled over and effortlessly slipped the key of the white ledge. I glared at him as he unlocked the door.

I slipped in the second I could and looked at the numerous instruments.

“Manson, Manson, Manson… hmm…” I mumbled, scanning the wall. “Ah!” I said, my eyes finding the silver guitar. I slipped it off the wall.

“Come on Chris, let us put on a show…” I walked right back out. Chris hit a few keys on the piano and followed my footsteps.

We reached the living room and leaped on to the coffee table. Chris bulged his eyes.

“You sure you are not going to break that thing? You do eat a lot…” I furrowed my brow and hardened my mouth. “I am not heavy!”

Chris shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

I pointed at the couch and ordered him to sit down. I slipped the strap around my shoulders and put my right hand on the frets. Chris snorted.

“You do know you need a lefty’s guitar?” I scowled at him, switching the guitar over, feeling very unnatural. “Whatever, I can be ambidextrous if I want!”

I started screaming bloody murder since everyone said I was tone deaf. I sounded quite alright to me self.

I opened my eyes to see Chris doubled over on the floor laughing like a hyena. I stomped on the table. “STOP BEING RUDE!”

“Alright… alright…” Chris wheezed between his bouts of laughter. I glared at him. What to play, what to play…

I started screaming Hyper Music since it seamed like a screaming enough song. I was interrupted. Again. Chris was yelling at me so I yelled back. When would I ever get through a song?

Suddenly I saw a flash of red and I immediately knew doom’s day was upon us. All I remember was being tickled and suddenly I had no Manson. I looked at the couch I was formerly sitting upon and saw Matt clutching the guitar.

“PARTY POOPER!” I yelled. And that was all it took for an argument to erupt.

I am not sure how long we were yelling. Now that I think about it I do not know what we were fighting about anymore. But suddenly out of nowhere I heard the squeak of a bar stool. I looked up immediately and saw that Chris and Matt had heard it too.

I saw the strangest thing. A beautiful girl sitting on the bar stool. She had the same shoes as me. And trousers that I owned… I gaped. It was like a mini me, but different for obvious reasons. She had long, long dark brown hair and was wearing a shoelace on her head. Cool.

Then I remembered that I had no idea who she was or why she was in Matt’s flat. I gaped. All I could say was, “WHOA! IT IS A LADY!”

Oh boy. I exchanged glances with Chris.

What would Tanya do about her?

*

I sat in the bar stool awkwardly.

Um, of course I was a lady.

“Yes I am a lady,” I said, a bit annoyed. I took a big gulp of my iced tea. “Better yet, I know your names and you do not know mine.” I looked at the blonde haired man. “Dom, right?”

He stared at me, a bit shocked for a second. “Oh, yeah. Are you a fan or something?”

I nodded. “And you are Chris Wolstenhome”, I added, looking at the brown haired man. He nodded and smiled. “Well, I mean, I am a fan. But Matt and I have agreed we shall ignore that fact and also the fact that you guys are rock star gods. Right now we are just regular people who happen to be in a flat.”

Dom blinked. “I am sorry, but how did you guys meet?” Dom seemed to be glaring at Matt. Matt simply got up with his Manson and looked at me.

“Ingo, would you like to go to sleep?”

I nodded. “Hell, yeah.” I followed him up the step and he opened the first door in the hallway.

“Welcome to your new room.”

I found myself gaping at the awesomest room ever. It was painted a deep red and had a white and black bed spread resting on a tall, extremely wonderful looking bed. Under it was a dark mahogany bed set, which was set on top of a crème shag carpet. I covered my mouth in excitement.

“Oh my gosh! This is so cool! This is like my dream room!” I hugged Matt, who hugged me back, being careful not to spear me with his Manson.

“Glad you like it. But please make it messy because I am deathly tired of it being immaculate.”

I laughed. “That will be a problem for a bit because I always keep other people’s houses clean, which I know is quite weird.” I jumped onto the bed. “But right now I do not care. I just want to sleep…”

I sat back on the most comfortable bed I had ever laid on. It was like sitting on a cloud. “Fank you…” I muttered. I heard him say, “Night” before I slipped off my Chucks and drifted off to sleep…

*

I watched “Ingo” slip off her Chucks. I widened my eyes. She had red socks on. And they were fuzzy.

I loved fuzzy red socks.

I was really liking this new best friend of mine. I was sure Tanya would love her, too. Tanya, Tanya, Tanya, I thought, and my heart jumped a little.

I shut the door quietly and walked down to the next room. I was annoyed to see that one of the double doors was wide open. I walked in and hung my guitar where it was supposed to be. I walked back out, locking the door, and stuffed the key in my pocket.

I walked back to the living room to see Chris and Dom whispering furiously, making emphatic hand gestures. I plopped onto the couch and met the glares of their angry eyes.

“Matt, what the fuck are you thinking?!” Dom yelled in a whisper. “You do not just go around bringing hookers home when you have a girlfriend.

I looked in disgust at the both of them. “She is NOT a hooker you retard! She is a bloody musician! And a wise, smart one at that!”

I slumped back in the couch, crossing my arms. “Besides, Tanya will love her.”

Dom and Chris looked at each other. “Whatever you say, Matt, just do not blame us when…” Chris stopped abruptly mid sentence. He shook his head. The two of them just got and headed towards that door.

“Wha…?” I peeked over top the couch. Dom turned around in the hallway like he was going to say something, then decided against it and turned back around, shaking his head. “Goodbye Matt”, he mumbled, walking out the door behind Chris.

I sat on the couch, bewildered. What was that about? Why would Tanya not love her? I shrugged my shoulders. Chris and Dom are just paranoid…

I got up and turned off all the lights. I walked to the kitchen and put the empty cup in the sink and sprayed some whipped cream in my mouth as a small secondary dessert.

I walked back down the hallway and peeked in the bed room. Ingo was sound asleep. She looked so peaceful. Ingo… I will have to ask her about that later…

I closed the door again and walked all the way down the dark hallway. I walked soundlessly up the black iron spiral staircase which led up to my bedroom. I undressed and put on my pyjamas. Sunburn ran through my head.

She burns like the sun

I can’t look away

She’ll burn our horizons

Make no mistakes

My hands automatically fingered the riff in the middle of the song…

I’ll hide from the world

Like a broken frame

I’ll burn forever

Can’t face the shame

The song cleared the unanswered questions out of my head and I fell asleep, looking forward to my second day…

…with Ingo.

(C) 2008 The Wanderer Blog