An Infatuation With The Semblance Of A Man
‘Ting-ting,’ chimed Flick’s phone cheerily from somewhere beneath the rubble of textbooks, notepaper, pens and chewing gum packets that flowed out the mouth of her upturned bag and spilled onto the floor. Flick, who was dancing around with her headphones in her ears and her arms waving over her head like a madwoman, paused in her wild antics for a moment to smile at the sound. Then she rushed about searching for the location of the source – had she left the phone in the pocket of yesterday’s jeans? Or amongst the junk on her bedside table? Was it in the dock where it belonged?
‘Aha,’ Flick murmured, as she spied the phone, buried beneath the books, turned upside down and wedged in a stapler. Excited, she pulled it free and slid the lock screen across to see who had texted her what.
The who was Jason, and what he had written was nearly as gorgeous as the man himself.
‘Hey Flickibabe, got something important to tell you. Meet up this afternoon?’ read Flick aloud. Oh she loved it when he called her that. That little set of text made her feel as though she had made a name for herself, if not in the eyes of the world at large, at least in the eyes of Jason Montague. And, oh, his eyes were worth measuring yourself in. Amber, golden, passion lit eyes, with flecks of green and brown. Jase had eyes that held the sun when they laughed, beaming rays of pure, radiant energy. Pools of light they were, like liquid bronze. They shone and glittered, dazzling her mind. Those eyes were beacons, calling. They drew her in, the green flecks swirling in a sea of gold, pulling her closer, closer, until she fell into the dark cavern of shadows at their core.
Aside from her daydreams, she couldn’t see those eyes right now. For now they were out of reach. If she couldn’t have those eyes, decided Flick to herself, she’d at least have his voice.
That voice. That voice had been the first part of Jason Montague she’d ever known, a stranger with no face who had called her phone by accident. Entrancing, nearly hypnotic, that voice was. She could feel the sound of it running through her bones. The resonant intonations of his voice as he spoke that very first time had captured and bound her, mesmerised in the spell of his words.
That voice had caught in her ears with its melodious tones, lodged itself there like a catchy tune and refused to leave her head. Every time she heard that voice, it drew her in to the lilting beauty of its sonorous depths and held her there, fully captive to the sound of what Jason Montague had to say.
She could get lost in that sound, so rich and full, so handsome. Power ran through that voice, an electrical current that sent shivers down her spine. Yet at the same time it was so soft, so tender, you could hear the care that stood behind the words.
Instead of sending off a quick reply, Flick’s fingers danced across the screen to type in the only number she had learnt by heart, despite the fact that it had been saved in her contacts list. She hit ‘Call’ and Jason’s face filled the screen.
Her heart swelled with each crisp ‘Brinnng-brinnng’ of the phone, as she waited for him to pick up with anticipation and joy. The phone stopped its cheerful song, and a pause filled the air.
‘Hey Jase!’ called Flick, ‘S’happening? How are you? And what’s this “important” mysterious thing we need to chat about?’
‘Well …’ began Jason. Although that sentence could have led anywhere, Flick felt her stomach drop away. His voice was not the one she had expected. It was still the voice of Jason Montague, but it was not rich or deep or full. It sounded hollow, contorted, empty.
‘Well,’ repeated Jason, ‘I don’t want to see you anymore. I’m breaking up with you.’
‘What?’ cried Flick, ‘Why?’
‘I’ve had enough of you. I think it’s time to move on.’
‘Why though?’ Flick demanded, ‘I still don’t understand.’
‘That’s your problem then. Work it out.’
‘Jason, what’s wrong with you?’ she cried.
But the only response was silence, and the gentle sound as the other line clicked off. Flick threw her phone onto the tiled floor.
It made a most unusual noise as it landed, a hollow tinny clang that rang through the room. The sound seemed too empty and weak for the significance of the moment. Flick slammed her fist into the desk with a muffled thump, and kicked her paper basket as hard as she could. She put her head on the varnished wood and screamed as loud as she could without letting the sound escape from her room. For a long time, she sat there sobbing and shuddering with the terror of what it all meant. Finally, she lifted her head and took a few shaky gulps of air. It was no use. No matter how furious her yell or how terrible her cries, she could still hear the cold empty silence surround her. In everything she did, she felt the space of his body; in everything she saw, she could see his eyes and in every sound she made, she heard the echo of his voice.
Without Jason Montague her world was empty. It was a long time before she began to fill it again.