chapter thirty two
The next morning, Marigold awoke, groaning at the light that poured in her window. It was closer to noon, and although she still felt groggy, she knew if she didn’t get up now, she’d only spend another day rotting away in bed.
She glared at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Why did she have to feel such guilt over Remus and Sirius? She was disappointed in herself, one for being selfish and self-absorbed, no girl such as she deserved the devotion of two lovers.
Two, she should have been more than happy, adoring and admiring Sirius alone. Maybe they could’ve gone steady, been a real couple. Maybe she ought to talk to him when she gets back to school after the holiday.
No, he’d hate her. For months she shunned him and pushed him away, all too caught up in her emotions and longing, mourning a relationship that never really happened outside of sex. He was devastatingly handsome and painfully charming, surely he had found one of the countless girls that crushed on him. Surely by now, his infatuation had faded after her cold facade, and he was able to rebound with just about anyone he wanted.
Marigold spit the mint paste residue out of her mouth, and lingered, sipping her mouth. Suddenly, she remembered her newfound companionship with Henry. She have felt awfully melancholy and self-loathful, but maybe she just needed proper human interaction. Not the kind she got when her mother got home from work, a fleeting greeting, or the drunkenly slurred mumble from her father.
Marigold lazily tugged on her ripped blue bell bottoms and a striped turtle neck. She grabbed an afghan coat from her mother’s collection by the door and set out for the record shop, baring gifts of a French bread loaf and a bottle of rum.
Her hair was messy, the many layers sticking up in every direction, her eyes were solemn, and her mouth frowned. She looked nothing like what she did yesterday, but couldn’t find the energy to get herself back into some masquerade of joy.
The shop doors were closed today, it was nippier out, and some slow romantic ballad hummed from within. The yellow lights from the other side of the window seemed so warm and inviting. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered in through the glass, catching sight of Henry. He sat behind the register, tossing a wadded ball of paper up and catching it.
She opened the door, and he straightened up immediately, forgetting the makeshift toy as it fell to the ground. He beamed at her, but his eyes showed another emotion-surprise? Probably because she hardly resembled the woman he’d met the day prior.
“Marigold?” He asked almost in disbelief.
“Yeah it’s me, you probably didn’t recognize me huh?” She greeted him without his optimistic cheer.
“No, I’d recognize you from a mile away, I just uh… I didn’t think you’d actually come back is all,” He jumped over the old table, making her split into a smile briefly.
He was funny and energetic, a great juxtaposition to her dejected self. He was an appreciated presence, even if she struggled to explain or show it.
“I brought rum and bread,” She placed the two items next to his register.
“You’d make great pirate, matey!” He cheered, popping the top off the rum.
“You’re a real goof, Henry.” She shook her head.
“You feeling alright?” He wiped rum off his lips after taking a swig. They’d shared a cig yesterday, drinking from the same bottle seemed perfectly appropriate.
“I’m a little down today,” She shrugged, avoiding his stare, not because she didn’t want to look at him, but because he reminded her of her boys too perfectly.
“Want to talk about it?” He asked.
“Ugh, god no!” She groaned, throwing herself onto the couch.
Henry had tried harder today, he had shaved that morning and put on clothes that actually fit him better. He rubbed some rosemary oil behind his ears in case she got close enough to smell him.
Henry pondered her change in behavior and appearance. He didn’t mind it, in fact, he found her even more attractive in ripped jeans and beat up sneakers. She was more approachable, more down to earth that way, she seemed more relaxed and open, honest without speaking. But he knew she needed cheering up and plotted a way to do such. He thought of his favorite club a couple of blocks away, but it wouldn’t open for a few more hours. He scanned her once more, firstly because he was convinced she was an angel fallen to Earth, and secondly to gauge what kind of music she’d like the most.
“Do you listen to The Beatles?” He asked.
“What? The Beatles?” She peered over at him. Their eye contact was a bit too prolonged without words from either. “Um, I think so,”
“I put some on,” He nodded and hopped to it, quickly changing the record.
As ‘You’re gonna lose that girl’ began, Henry started twisting to the beat, turning back around to face her. Only, she stared at the ceiling. There may as well have been a storming gray cloud hanging over her.
So he started singing along and dancing a bit more, in hopes of catching her attention. Marigold’s brows furrowed, and she indeed turned her head to watch the show. Her mouth hung open in surprise, though she really shouldn’t have doubted his theatrics.
“Henry?” She called, starting to smile as the song ended.
“Is that a smile?” He teased.
“No, nothing of the sort!” She returned, hugging a pillow to her chest so as to hide the beginning of a grin.
“Alright, how about this one, ‘honey pie’,” He switched the record again.
“What did you call me?” It was her turn to quip.
“Don’t flirt, Venus,” He scolded without seriousness.
“Oh please,” She rolled her eyes.
“You are making me crazy!” He sang out of tune and fell to his knees in front of her next to the couch. He sang along to Paul McCartney, trying to elicit some sort of enjoyment from her.
Slowly she lowered the pillow and watched him in amusement. When he dipped bait too close to her she sat up and acted coy.
“What? You did sing along to your favorite songs?” He sat back on the floor, watching as she retreated the alcohol.
“I don’t perform,” She shook her head at him.
“But surely you dance sometimes?”
“Only if there’s nothing else to do,”
“What do you do for fun then?”
“I play Qu-, um, I play football at school. Defense.”
“Hm, an athlete,”
“I’m still a bohemian, don’t judge!”
“I wasn’t! So, do your friends also play?”
“Some, but my best friends are the girls in my dorm,”
“What are their names?”
“What is this, an interrogation?”
“I’m just trying to get to know you,”
“Marlene, Dorcas, and Lily, she’s my best friend. Where are your friends?”
“Ah, I don’t have many, more of a lone wolf, not by choice though. I know some guys that play at a club nearby, maybe you’ll meet them while you’re in town.”
“I wish the girls could meet you, they’re super fun!”
“Are they pretty?” He joked, shifting to sit on the couch.
“Oh so beautiful! None of them are single, so don’t let your imagination run.” She sat next to him now.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” He stole the liquor bottle.
“Across the Universe,” She mumbled, mindlessly admiring his weathered hands around the glass. Veins protruded from the bones on the back, and a couple of scars wrapped around his thumb and palms.
“What’s that?” He hummed, lost in his own appreciation for her tanned and freckled nose bridge.
“That’s my favorite Beatles song.”
“I’ll put it on, only…if you dance!” He pleaded.
“Put it on, Henry,” She shoved him playfully.
The slow song began, and Marigold forced another large swig of the liquor. Her inhibitions were more melted now, and she stood to keep her end of the bargain. She sighed and closed her eyes so she wouldn't feel so seen by him, slowly swaying to the strum of the guitar.
Lennon’s vocals filled her ears and her mind, let alone the space. Henry lit some incense and leaned against the register table, a soft smile on his features. He couldn’t shake his thoughts of her, nor did he want to. They were only just getting to know each other, but he was certain Marigold would be someone special to him.
“It’s kind of a sad song,” He offered.
“Not at all, it’s romantic,” She disagreed, eyes still closed as she slowly spun.
He let her finish the song, a little slow for his like, but now that she had declared it her favorite, it was also his. He’d never thought to listen to it specifically, always just putting the album on in the background to pass time. Now he couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without properly relishing in its brilliance.
“If you were something in the universe, what would you be?” She asked as the song ended, finally opening her eyes and looking directly into his own.
He was caught off guard by the look, so far away and yet so focused on him, but also the question itself.
“I’d be me. We’re already something in the universe aren’t we?” He gave an equally cryptic answer back.
“Is it enough for us to be human? To not be the tragically beautiful moon or the blinding bright star?”
“Of course it is, to be a man, and to be a woman, is all we have to be. That’s existence, we can be common and usual.”
“I can tell you’re a kind man too,” She complimented earnestly. “Anyone else would’ve declared themselves Mars or some comet.”
He smiled at her, and she smiled back, somewhat like her normal optimistic self. Henry had such a healing aura, she thought, and she was glad he wasn’t a wizard. For once she could feel like a normal teenage girl, she didn’t have to live some sort of secret life from society.
They spent the rest of the afternoon sipping the rum and exploring the record collection, even a customer came in before closing. Marigold sat polity on the armchair, watching fondly as Henry helped the old woman find a Christmas gift for her granddaughter.
After he locked the door behind her, he clapped his hands together and spun to the girl.
“You want to go out tonight? Meet some of my friends?” He had that adolescent joy in his brown eyes.
“Sure!” She gave in easily.