Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 76

There was a knock on the door at 4:32, and I jumped up from the couch, where Jake was forcing me to sit and watch a news show about some man who had been planning to bomb the white house but was killed by his wife before he could try. The news story was very interesting, and disturbing, but somehow I found the knock on the door more appealing. Jake switched the TV off and followed me to the front door, his excitement evident of his grin-covered face. I pulled the door open and it was as if no time had passed at all, since the prom and since he had lived in town. He was wearing sort-of tight blue jeans and a loose beige v-neck t-shirt. He had on hightop Converse, one which was stuck over his jeans. His hair was situated on his forehead like a wave swiftly flowing on sand. His lips were smiling, and his beautiful eyes were bright. Behind him was Milly, her smile as wide as his, though her lips were slightly thinner, and her eyes showing an obvious relation between them. "Hello," I said, "Come on in." Tyler followed through, stepping through the door and inhaling. "Mm!" he said, "It smells good in here. Did you make something?"

"She made everything," Jake replied to him, though he was looking at Milly. We all sort of laughed, and then we awkwardly dispersed. Jake and Milly went up to his room and Tyler came up to mine. He lay back on my bed, "Aw," he said, "I've missed these comforters. They're so soft. And they smell like fabric softener." I laughed, "Thanks?" He smiled and sat up, his eyes excited. I was so happy to have him there. But I didn't know what to do now. The comfortableness between us that we had before was gone, and I felt nervous and exhilarated all over again. But still I couldn't stop smiling.

Angela was sitting there, right in front of me. I hadn't really believed myself when I thought back of the night of the prom, didn't believe that someone so breathtaking could possibly exist. But here she was, now, sitting in front of me- she wasn't wearing a dress that heightened all the best parts of her, her hair wasn't styled flawlessly, and her face wasn't painted with makeup. But it seemed that she was, if not more, beautiful than she had been with all those things. She was wearing a figure-fitting short dress- or rather, a short jumper. I think my sister called them rompers, or something like that. Hers was turquoise, and her black hair suited it perfectly, her green eyes were brought out by it. She smelled like pine and chocolate chip cookies. She was sitting sort of awkwardly, half on the bed and half leaning towards the floor. I sat up, hoping I wasn't making her feel awkward, and said, "Sorry I came so late. There was a lot more traffic than I was expecting." She shrugged, "It happens." Angela bit her lip for another moment before she said, "I think we need some music." I smiled and nodded in agreement. She stood up and walked over to her dresser, where iPod speakers were set up, and she pulled her iPod out of a drawer, placing it on the speakers and scrolling through her music with a determined expression. She selected something, and then selected something else, and a beat I recognized played over the speakers. As the song progresses, I recognized that it was Hanging High by Lykke Li. "Wow," I said, "I didn't know you liked this kind of music." Angela grinned, "I love Lykke Li. Anya Marina, too, and The Bird and The Bee. My sister always hated their music, so I didn't get to listen to it loud in here too often, but I always listened to them with my headphones." I grinned and looked over at the speakers, "My mom knows every word to every Lykke Li song there is. She's always telling me what an undiscovered genius she is- she said if she was just a poet, instead of poet who sings her poems, she would world-famous by now. She thinks her lyrics are brilliant. She walks around the house singing them and using utensils as her instruments to keep the beat." Angela laughed and sat down next to me, patting her knee along with the beat. "I like her lyrics a lot, too," she said, "They're abstract, but at the same time universal, you know?" I nodded, paying closer attention to the words as the song continued. We sat there in silence as the song continued, until we heard Jake calling us from downstairs, and then we left her room, the music still playing, the poem reciting for no one to hear.

© 2010