The garden-level window above the couch barely reveals a glimpse of starlight.  No one else is home.  The TV is on, a half-eaten calzone sits on the coffee table, and deep, powerful bursts of electronic bass keep me in a lucid drowse.  I grab the half-empty 2-liter bottle of root beer from the coffee table and take a tentative swig.

I don't recognize the song.  Layers of complex percussion rise above the driving bass line.  A smooth ambient pad adds a dark air.  Sharp keyboards bite through with zeal.  It is entirely unique and I am sure I can listen to it all night.  It is coming from my absent roommate's speakers, and I make a note to ask him for a copy of the song.  Someone knocks on the door.

I'm disheveled, tired, and underdressed for the trip.  I throw on a parka and go to meet my visitor.

She is staying with my neighbor for a few days.  The downstairs is divided into two apartments, and our relationship with the girls next door has ever been rocky at best.  I saw her arrive with an overstuffed gym bag and backpack.  She did not strike me as a person I would have much interest in speaking to.  That impression has changed drastically.

She is wearing a long, earthy brown t-shirt and light, faded jeans, both fitting enough to reveal the details of her figure that I have sadly overlooked in the past.  Her dirty blonde hair is in a simple braid with only a few loose wisps beside her face.  Her face is not one you simply look upon with a smile in recognition of her beauty, but the sort that I will see again and again, whether I am awake or otherwise.  I have never understood why there are some rare few women who have this quality that resounds with me so.

“Hi.  Is that your music?”  Her voice heightens the impact that seeing her has on me.  It  delays my response.

“Oh... no it's not.  I think they left it on.  I can turn it off.”

She stands up on her toes to look past my shoulder into the apartment, curious.  I notice now that she is holding a stack of flyers printed on bright orange paper

“Its awful.  Could you?”  I turn to carry out the favor.  She gives a small thankful wave and starts go to on her way.

She is leaving on Saturday morning, I remember, and it is Thursday night.  If I want to ever have anything to do with this girl, I cannot waste this opportunity.

“What are those?  The flyers.”  I point, as though it was not clear.  She turns back to me as if my disturbance was terribly rude, but smiles when she realizes what she can make of the situation.

“Oh!  There is a concert tomorrow to raise funds for the SEPA.  Analog Laser is going to be there.  And also Red Sky.  I just realized I love Red Sky.  I didn't even know what their name meant until yesterday.  You should go.”  She hands me a flyer and I respond while inspecting it.

“Oh, definitely.  I'll be there.  Wait, this is in Sandown?  I don't have a car.”

“I'll ask if anyone can get you a ride.  We'll let you know in the morning.”

The conversations lulls, and she takes the opportunity to wave again, and turn back to the hall.  I smile in return.

The door closes much more loudly than I want.  I'm starting to feel a little uncomfortable in my heavy coat and throw it aside.  The margins of the photocopied flyer have hand-drawn vines on both sides, along with some small symbols of rock and love.  The song changes, and I remember my promise to turn it off.  Turn it off?  Did she ask me to turn it off?  Can I just turn it down?  I don't remember, but don't want to risk seeming rude.  The door to my roommate's bedroom is stuck, so I ram it with my shoulder once so that it flies open.  A carpet of clothes lie between me and the receiver for the speakers.  Tiptoeing gracelessly I make my way over and hit a few buttons until they turn off.  The sudden silence makes me cringe.  The world becomes discordant.  Cars passing by, trees rustling, someone yelling in the distance.  

Green lines in the darkness tell me that it is 11:32.  Might as well go to sleep now, since I have work in the morning...

Work.  Tomorrow is Friday.  I can't go to a concert.  I remember her face.  I have already used all of my sick days for the year.  I've stumbled back to my own bedroom and lain in bed.  A screech, a car horn held for too many lingering seconds.  I turn on the desk fan by my bed.

It's time to find out what happens when you call in sick without a sick day to expend.

* * *

Alternative rock classics wake me up.  Its 8:00 AM.  I throw a shoe at the alarm clock and break the glass of water next to it.  Complaining absently, I put on shoes, pick up the larger broken shards, and leave the alarm be.  I don't want to deal with this.  Living room.  Chris is awake, eating a cold calzone.  A sports news program is on TV.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

A ferret walks up to me, smells my leg, and trots off.

I grab the phone off the wall and dial work from memory, blinking until someone answers.  I no longer make a show of it when I call in sick.  I say simply that I'm not feeling well and am not coming in.  Thankfully Carol, another employee my age, has answered the phone and promises to pass the message on.

“Not feeling well?”  Chris is wearing his black and red Pizza Hut uniform.

“Nah.  I'm fine.”  He grins knowingly.

I have no idea when I'll be leaving, so I drop my ass on the couch.  Do I even know if I'm leaving?

“I oughtta hooky out myself.  Want to hit the mall today?  I need new work shoes.  These kicks are kicking my ass.”

For a moment it sounds like a good idea, but I've other arrangements.

“Nah, I'm seeing a concert.”

“When are you leaving?”

I look at the clock.  8:04.

“I dunno.  Gonna get a call about my ride soon.”

He wanders off to the kitchen with an empty cardboard pizza box and ceramic plate.  A ferret scampers after him.

I grab the remote, put my feet up on the table.  News, news, commercial, kids programming, something in spanish.  I know just enough spanish to be frustrated that I can't understand a word they say.

“I'm going back to sleep,” Chris declares, walking back to his room.

“Oh, hey.”  I remember the song from last night.  “Can you send me that new track that was on your playlist last night?  Something loud and dark, it was like--”

“Oh yeah I think I know which one.  I'll burn you a CD.”  The door closes behind him.

Time passes very slowly.  I decide to be ready for when I leave, so I get dressed.  There is nothing here that will impress anybody.  Old jeans, a selection of three clean t-shirts,  none of them compelling.   One of them is a black Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt.  I hate wearing my Pink Floyd shirt to concerts, if just for the interactions with other people wearing the same shirt.  They occasionally find it coincidental, or worse, worth discussing.  Still, its my best option.  I hear a knock on the door.

Socks, shoes, cast socks aside, put on shoes, answer door.

“Have fun Autumn!”  Her name is Autumn, she is standing in front of me, and my neighbor is saying goodbye to her.  It occurs to me that I didn't even know her name until now.

“Ready to go?” Autumn inquires.  Today she is wearing a flattering, draped green top.  I look away, down the hall, and nod.

“I'm driving you.  I hope you're comfortable in my car.  Tall people never like my car.”

* * *

The ride was uneventful.  Autumn put on a CD of world music.  It was admittedly relaxing, and I was very tired.  We only spoke a few times.

It's early, but the concert will go from five to twelve I am told, with fifteen different bands playing.  Autumn knows a lot of the people setting up in this overgrown soccer field, and we are going to help.

“This is James.”  That's me.  I'm James.

Autumn is introducing me to a fellow who is clearly a musician.  His slim, pale attire makes mine look unreasonably baggy.  The hollow face, wild hair, and cigarette declare his type precisely.

Except, is that actually a cigarette?

“Good to meet you James.  I'm Jared.”  He offers a hand to be shook, and I oblige.

“Jared is Sky's new singer.”  She grins.  “He's really good.  Are you a fan?”

“Of course!”  I say, with more conviction than was necessary.  I have never heard of them.

Jared shrugs and flicks what is now clearly a joint.  “I'm not that good.  I mean, Derek couldn't really get up there in Tired, but you know, it just wasn't right for his voice, its not like I'm so good or anything.”

Autumn giggles.  It is a sound that blends girlishness and womanhood in an utterly unique way.  She covers her mouth shyly.

“James.  Grab that cooler?”  I follow Jared's instruction without as much of a pause as I would normally intend.  After a moment the two pick up a box and what looks like an amplifier.  We carry them to a stage, and engage in all manner of menial tasks.

Eventually Jared leaves.  “Good to meet you, man,” he says to me.

He kisses Autumn on the cheek with a hand on her shoulder, and waves.  She smiles a little and waves back.

I wait until he is out of earshot.  “Boyfriend?”

“Huh?”

“Is he your boyfriend.”

“Oh.  No.”  After a moment she realizes what made me ask.

“Oh.  He's like that with everybody.  We all kind of are, I guess.”

“I didn't get a kiss.”

She laughs immediately, and I'm glad for it, I always worry about telling jokes with people I don't know.  But she sounds very earnest.

Autumn holds two fistfuls of wires out towards me.  “Help me with this.  Everyone thinks I'm good at this, but it takes forever.”

We sit down on the stage and, for the first time, have a real discussion.  First about wires, and how they are always tangled and unplugged, though that is never how we want them to be.  Then, somehow, about a book she has been reading.  It is called “Breakfast of Champions.”

She is digging around in her bag for something.  “The idea is that art needs context.  Sure, something can be beautiful on its own, but it really means something when its part of a conversation.  Have a smoke?”

A cigarette sounds like a good idea.  I haven't had one all day.  I take what she offers me.  It isn't a cigarette.

I take a lighter that had been in my jeans pocket when I put them on.  “Somehow I thought you were a little straightedge for this kind of stuff.”

She is busy lighting up but makes a disapproving sound.  After a moment:  “No no, its not like that.  You shouldn't believe in what society tells you is right or wrong.  This is something people should do.”

Hey, I didn't say otherwise.  I take a long, careful drag.

* * *

I have to agree with Autumn, though.  It's something people should do.  We laughed far too much, had far too much fun.  At first I was being too calculating, ever mindful of my appearance to her.  Eventually I was able to relax.  We talked and talked, and never managed to get the equipment set up until a third person came to help.  At that point we wandered off.

“You know, I love Pink Floyd,” she says to me, looking at my shirt.  I laugh.

“You won't get mad if I say this?”  I'm leaning against a tree, trying to get the most out of a roach without burning my fingers, before tossing it aside.

“I might.”  She sits cross-legged on the ground, looking at me.

I think over my comment, decide it is a bad idea, then go on ahead anyway.

“That was an awfully stereotypical comment.”

She laughs wildly and throws a pine cone at me.  I bat it away with one hand and am immensely relieved that she took it so well.  The sound of feedback from an electric guitar grows louder behind me, echoing in the distance.  Autumn stands up.

“You know that I'm serious about this, though.”  She walks up and leans against me, puts her chin on my shoulder.  I have a small panic attack and stand still.

“I can tell you are.”

“About all of this.”

The guitar in the distance is warming up, wading through part of the solo in Comfortably Numb.

She snatches the lighter out of my hand and steps back, smirking.

“Damn you!”

I try to grab it back but let her get away with it.  She walks back to her bag and digs through it.

“Don't swear.”

“Alright.”

She stands back up, facing away from me.  I hear the lighter click a few times.

“Really?”  she responds.  “People do it all the time.  You do it all the time.”

I issue a shrug that no one sees.

She continues.

“It's not the words.  It's, just angry.  I can't stand angry words.  Or anything like that.”

I'm walking up to her.  “I'm not angry, I was just joking with you.”

“I know.  I know, it seems silly.  But I think... I think the world would be a better place if people didn't do that.”

“I think you're right.”

She turns around.  Looks up at me.  She has a look of honesty that I've never seen before.

“Do you?”

I start to say “Yeah, hell.”

“Yeah.  I'll even give it a break for awhile, if I can.  Why not?  Improving the world sounds like a pretty good goal.”

A step forward, I stand still, a little anxious.  She kisses me on the cheek.

I pause, not sure what to do, but sure that it isn't time to do it yet.

After a few moments:  “Are you like that with everybody?”

She laughs a little.  “Sometimes.”

* * *

The concert was fun.  The music was very diverse.  Autumn seemed to really like some bands, but completely ignore others.  Some of it was very relaxed.  The sky was cloudy and when the clouds covered the sun I could lay on my back and just stare upward.

I realize I've dozed off.  Its after dusk.  I don't have a watch.  Autumn is lying nearby.  She looks utterly serene.  She has a soft smile and is holding a corner of the blanket she is lying on.

“Are you asleep?”

A long pause.

“No.”

The music is very soft.  Gently filtered guitars, hand drums, I believe even a violin?  Though I'd be surprised if some band really had a violinist.

“I love this,”  she says.  I realize I'm staring at her and look towards the stage instead.

I prop myself up and watch the rest of the show.  Its later than I thought: this is the last band.

Eventually, Autumn sits up.

“What did you think?”

“I liked it.”

She takes a small container of Tic-Tacs out of her bag, swallows one.

“Can I have one?”

She hands me the container.   Someone is walking through the dispersing crowd and talking rather loudly.

“Cops are here.  Don't worry about it.  You can leave if you want.  Just letting you know.”

Autumn blinks and starts to stand up.

“We probably smell like weed.  Lets go.”

She reaches out to help me up.  I put the Tic-Tacs in my pocket so I can take her hand and stand up.

We follow the crowd to the car, carefully watch some police speak with some people, and drive out the less busy side of the lot.

* * *

When I woke up again we were home.  Autumn was tapping the steering wheel anxiously, then got out of the car.  We were parked in front of my building.  Without a word we walked inside, down the stairs.  We're standing outside of my neighbor's door.

“That was a lot of fun.”  I agreed.  Her voice sounds different.  Maybe she is tired too.  Her eyes are a little bloodshot.

“You look like you need some sleep.”

She giggled, tried the door and found it unlocked.

“Not before I have some tea.  Want some tea?”

We walk inside.  It's dark.  Autumn makes her way carefully to the kitchen.  I sit down on the couch.  There is a very soft blanket covering it.  I'm feeling a little nervous.

“Water is heating up.”  She sits down next to me, grabs ahold of one of the pillows on the couch.  Wait, is this where she is sleeping?

“I could use some tea.”  A clever remark on my part.

We talk for a little while about the day in low voices.  Presumably the residents are asleep.  

“I wish I could play some music,” Autumn says.  The water slowly starts to whistle.

“No!  Quiet!”  She carefully runs over to the kitchen.  I rest my hands on my knees, exhale.

Soon, tea.

We sip the tea, no longer talking, and its very quiet.  After a little while we hear a sound from the adjacent room.

“What is that?”  She hushes me, listening carefully.

More quietly, I ask: “Is that a person?”

She doesn't reply.  After a moment it becomes clear.  Jen's boyfriend is over.

“Oh.”

I shift, a little awkwardly.  Autumn still has a distant look, listening carefully.

“You know what that is, right?”

She nods.

Moments pass.  I have no idea what to do with myself.

“You're being a little creepy.”  I'm hoping she finds it funny.

“No, no!  Not at all.  Aren't you listening?”

She looks over at me.  I look to either side, unsure of how to respond.

“Its the most beautiful sound in the world.”

“Jen?”

“Not just Jen.”

She's still looking toward me.  Her large green eyes gaze past me.  For a moment I think I can feel her breath.

This goes on for a very long time.  I am at a loss.  Finally it becomes silent again.

“I think I'm a little jealous,” Autumn whispers.

* * *

I wake up when Jen was leaving for work.  Her boyfriend seems to have already gone.  She is wearing a fairly nice blouse and pants.

“Oh, you fell asleep here!  That's so funny!”

I cringe a little.  We're under a blanket and it's very soft.  It occurs to me that maybe Jen thinks this was just a case of passing out on the couch.

I pretend to go back to sleep.  Jen makes breakfast and eventually leaves.

Eventually Autumn speaks.  “I have to go.  I packed yesterday.  But I'm already late.  Do you have to get to work?  I can drop you off if it's on the way.”

It's Saturday and I don't have to work.

“Oh, if you want to drop me off, ah, at the plaza by the mall, that'd be fine.”

“Go change.”

I walk across the hall to my apartment.  My place is a mess.  Obviously Chris had a party last night.  Bottles of beer sit upon every surface, one stranger is sleeping on the couch, one friend of mine is sleeping on the floor.  Trying not to wake them, I move around the outside of the room to my bedroom.  

Two shirts left.  On top of them, a CD-R.  It says “For James.”  Ah!  The song from the other night.  I put it in my back pocket.  Find some deodorant, change into a pale blue shirt, leave my jeans from yesterday on, and go back across the hall.

Autumn is already in the hallway with her backpack and gym bag.  I take the latter and lead her up the stairs.  Her car is still parked out front, so I deposit her bag in the trunk and get in.  I smile at Autumn, and she blushes a little.  The car starts and we pull into the street.

Her cell phone is in a cup holder.

“We should swap phone numbers,” I suggest.

“Oh, of course!  Once I'm not driving.”

Something is uncomfortable in my pocket.  Ah, the CD.  I take it out.

“What is that?”

“Oh, its this great song my roommate showed me.  Its really amazing, actually.  I've never heard anything like it.

She said something a little too quietly for me to hear.

“Hmm?”

“Can you put it on?”

We're driving up the street, turning at the corner.  I put in the CD.  It is amazing, really.  Powerful, mysterious and dark.  I lean back and listen.

Its a minute before I notice the look on Autumn's face.

“What is it?”

“It's, it's horrible.”

I turn off the stereo.

“What?”

“That music... it's horrible.  It's so, angry.”

“Oh.  I don't really think so.”

The mall is just up the street: we're already here.

She parks the car abruptly.  I start to get out.

“Well, it was fun.”

She isn't saying anything.  Cold.

I get out of the car.

“I'll, ah, see you later I guess.”

She closes the door.  Drives off.

Terrible.  I don't understand at all.  Something completely strange happened.  She couldn't have been that offended by my music.

I pocket my hands, watching the white hatchback turn the corner at the end of the parking lot.  Something is in my pocket... Ah, Tic-Tacs.  I look at them.  Half empty, stupid white candy.   Orange flavor.

I squint.  Orange?  White?

These aren't Tic-Tacs.

There is a trash barrel nearby.  I toss the little container away and walk toward the shoe store.