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The Architecture Of Love
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THE ARCHITECTURE OF LOVE
ZERO
There is a soft trumpet playing in the background and it reminds me of something.
I have a friend.
He is a jazz musician, a trumpet player.
Really terrific.
And I go and hear him jam every month or so.
And he plays this piece I love: an old Chet Baker song.
And he blows the same notes every time, but every time it sounds different.
And we had drinks one night – you know, when I still used to drink – and I tried to tell him how that song made me feel…
How the music made me feel and how his playing made me feel.
And he just kept shaking his head and he said…
“Carmen, you can’t talk about music. Talking about music is like dancing about architecture”.
I just said, “Well, gonna get all philosophical on me. It’s just as pointless as talking about a lot of things. Love, for instance”.
And my friend laughed, and he said, “Definitely. Most definitely. Talking about love is like dancing about architecture”.
So… well, I don’t know.
He might be right.
But it ain’t gonna stop me from trying.
”Tell me, tell me
Tell me, tell me
Tell me, tell me
Tell me, tell me
Woke up again this mornin’
With the sun in my eyes
We might change the movie script
Surprise…”
ONE
Fucking techno music hammering my ears and I only want one more of my drinks.
Fucking techno music hammering my ears and I barely heard the phone ringing on the other line.
And now all I am trying to do is calm myself down while this fucking bitch is talking to me like I’m the last dog poo on the ground.
Fuck her and fuck me for wasting my time with her.
As she’s still blabbering I take a glance over my shoulder and there are all these people in a single line behind the telephone.
I press the receiver harder against my ear and stop up the other one with my fingers.
“I don’t care who had her first”, I exclaim, angrily, “I poke around her stool looking for worms. I feed the fucking thing. I take her to the vet. All you do is pet her twice a day…. Which is hell of a lot more than you’ve been doing to me lately”.
I roll my eyes as she starts shouting.
“Okay, okay, let’s discuss this calmly… We’re adults. We’ve been together for a long time… Well, not a long time, but an adequate four months…. Adequate until you fuckin’ cheated on me with that skag from Bloomingdale’s! You fu –“.
I narrow my eyes.
“Lucia? Don’t you dare hang up! Lucia! Lucia?”.
I hang up the phone angrily.
“Shit! Shit!”, I yell, banging my fists on the wall.
Then I take a long breath, trying to calm down the furious heartbeat pounding in my chest.
I turn around and I find myself face to face with a girl, who’s standing behind me with her hands shoved in her pockets, tapping her foot in urgency.
She’s stunning and definitely a brooder.
She has this messy dark hair hanging on the most amazing green eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s all dressed in black, with leather pants and a NIN t-shirt.
And, to be completely honest, she’s totally expressionless.
I give her my million dollar smile.
“Hi”.
She just looks at me.
“You got a quarter?”.
She catches a coin from her hip pocket and hands it to me, holding it between her fore and middle finger.
She doesn’t say a word.
“Thank you”.
I turn to the phone and dial, again.
Lucia picks up the receiver after the fourth ring.
“The fucking cat is mine”, I say, flatly.
“No, no. On this I am not negotiable, Lucia. Lucia. Hey! Hey! Don’t be a fucking infant, okay?”.
I realize that my voice is getting louder again and, frankly, I don’t give a shit.
“You can take everything that came from IKEA. I want the cat, and I want Pottery Barn. It… “, I sigh, “…One more time. You hang up one more time and I –“.
I slam down the receiver.
“Damn it!”, I hiss, and I turn around again.
The brooding girl hands me another quarter.
She looks at me.
“It’s my last one”, she says quietly, in a low, husky voice.
My eyes dart as I take the coin from her fingers.
“Negotiations are almost over. Thank you”.
I pick up the receiver for the third time and dial.
This time, Lucia answers after the first ring.
“All right. Okay, scumbag. You’re robbing me blind… But I will give up Pottery Barn if I can just have the cat… No! No. Pottery Barn doesn’t include Williams Sonoma”, I growl, “They’re two separate establishments, Lucia… Oh, Christ on crutches! Okay, you know what, Lucia? I want to get rid of you as much as I want to get rid of that junk from IKEA…. So here’s the thing. You can walk away with the Pottery Barn, Williams Sonoma, IKEA. And just to show you that I’m a grown-up, I will throw in all the crap from Hold Everything! …. Yeah! Yeah, that includes the hanging shoe sorter…”.
I roll my eyes.
“…That’s right. Do we have a deal?! …Great. So here’s the thing. I will be home in two hours. You and all your junk from the catalogs will be gone… And the cat will be there waiting for me, purring contentedly”.
I hang up furiously and take a long breath.
I turn around and the stranger is still waiting patiently behind me, her face still expressionless.
I duck my head and grab the hem of her shirt, dragging her towards the bar.
“Well”, I say, “The least I can do after taking your last quarter is let you buy me a drink”.
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Yay, your back with a new one. Interesting start, Carmen has quite a temper here and Shane has just a coke and leaves.