It was one of those days when you wake up with a song on your mind, on time and in tune. You know exactly what you want to listen to and can even hear it stirring before it starts to play. That morning, it was Go Robot by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Cyn got ready to it on repeat, purple headphones on blast. She needed it; the guitar to keep her pace, the drums to order her steps.
“Tell me now, I know, that it just won’t stop. You will find your flow when you go robot”.
She stood in front of the dirty mirror of the room she shared with her older sister who was still fast asleep and snoring in her bed as she drew stars on her eyelids and down her cheeks with green eyeliner.
“I want to thank you and spank you upon your silver skin; robots don’t care where I’ve been.”
She spun around the room as she wore her trousers, a few sizes too big, tied around the waist with a shoelace and buttoned her shirt up to the collar in the way her mother hated. Next were her shoes, the beat-up vans with the rainbow laces. Beat-up only because she wanted them to look that way and had made it so by her own concerted efforts.
“You’ve got to choose it to use it, so let me plug it in; robots are my next of kin.”
Cyn admired herself in the mirror, blue hair to match her pants and green eyeliner to match her shoes. She felt a swelling in her chest comparable to none, excitement mixed with nerves mixed with that heady feeling of satisfaction and pleasure in herself.
She snuck into her mother’s room and bathed herself in perfume. Gucci Rush, Poison Girl by Dior, CK Eternity. She did not know if they mixed well; all she knew was that she smelled amazing. Her scent would linger in their mind, on their sheets, and in the air they'd breathe even after she'd left, if nothing else.
It was time; she headed out of the house unceremoniously. When she came back, she’d answer whatever questions they had about her whereabouts. She’d have done what she wanted anyway, and whatever she said wouldn’t matter then, a time would have been had already.
She walked to the bus stop very aware that they were staring at her. Everyone on the road seemed to forget themselves. A surreptitious glance at a stranger on the street is normal, fine, welcome even, but the full-on open-mouthed stares and eyes narrowed in disapproval were a bit excessive, not so?
Cyn was used to it, so she soldiered on, smiling at whoever she caught, eyeballing them right back. They turned away so fast you’d think she’d flipped them. She got to the bus stop right on time, perfectly poised to sit at the front beside the driver of the next bus as it was still empty, a sign of a good day. As it filled up, she listened to Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by AC/DC, having rid herself of her earlier earworm. While they sped through traffic and swerved this way and that, she closed her eyes and imagined Angus Young’s fingers on the guitar strings. Even though she didn't know how to play guitar and the picture in her mind was entirely fictional, she was entranced. She entirely missed her bus stop too, and the driver along with his bus yelled at her as he came to a roaring stop when she finally came to and realised where she was and where she was going.
She had to walk a few minutes back from where she was dropped to where she was supposed to have stopped. She pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of her back pocket. “Bus stop x to bus stop y, keke from bus stop y to street z; red gate, you can’t miss it.”
She’d had the address memorised for months, but she wanted to see it again, in their handwriting, especially now that she was so close. She was at bus stop x, and giddy with anticipation. She found her next bus and hopped in it while it was half moving and bodies were pressed behind her also trying to claim one of the limited, coveted spots. Her seat this time was not very great. She was on the extension — what is essentially ¼ of ¼ a seat, at the end of the row, near the door. It was the conductor’s seat that he had so thoughtfully relinquished for her to swing from the door, armpit 0.5 inches from her face.
Bus stop y could not come soon enough, and this time, she did not even wait for the bus to stop for her totally before she hopped out. She found a keke immediately, and as they sped down the empty street to her destination, Dark Necessities by Red Hot Chili Peppers laid out the carpet and prepared the stage. It was her opening scene, the perfect song for her grand entrance. The keke pulled up to the gate of the house, unmistakably red. As he pulled away, she stood in front of the gate, unsure how to proceed.
She’d come all this way, best-laid plans, but had never gotten to this part when she pictured it, when she’d stand before the red gate, end of journey, hello destination. She switched the music mid-song to David Lee Roth’s Just Like Paradise and knocked the gate to the music. Intervals of three very confident but also very respectful raps. She did not want her knock to be less than satisfactory; she knew very well how much the wrong sort of knock could upset.
She heard the front door of the house open and shut, and she heard anxious steps approaching. Her heart sank into her belly, and the music bled in her ears.
There was hesitation from behind the gate, and then came the sound of keys jangling on their ring, the padlock clanging softly, and careful turns to unlatch the gate. When the gate swung open, she knew to be quiet because her host had put both hands over their mouth to indicate, “Shh.” Cyn covered her lips too even though she could simply just be quiet. Her host took her hand and then led her to the side of the house and through what she assumed was the back door. As they went into the kitchen and then past it and the light and heat gave way to the dark, cool room, shuffle did that miraculous thing it sometimes does and Waiting For a Girl Like You by Foreigner came on. Cyn grinned from ear to ear as she settled into the moment and onto the couch. Definitely a good day.
An alté babe with small small anxiety. Cyn is so real
My fav writer rn