Page 41 of Your Rhythm
10Paralyse || Polarheart
KAY
The Montreal busterminal is packed. University students mill around in sweatpants, duffel bags lying at their feet and headphones in their ears. There’s a few older travellers hanging around, but mostly the place is taken up by the mass exodus of young people heading home for an Easter weekend full of free food with their families.
I remember the days when I used to make the seven hour journey from Ottawa to Hamilton, armed with a bunch of plastic containers for taking leftovers back to sustain my poor student life. Not much has changed since I moved to Montreal, except that now the bus ride is closer to ten hours.
All the benches are already occupied, so I hoist my bag down onto the tile floor next to a vending machine and take a seat beside it. I cross my legs and, like almost every other person in the building, I pull out my phone.
There’s a message from my mom, asking when I’ll be arriving in Hamilton despite the fact that I’ve already told her three times. I type out yet another confirmation that I should be there by eight-thirty and then scroll down to my conversation with Matt.
I haven’t answered his latest text. The awkward, post-rooftop-make-out conversation has fizzled out for now, and I don’t think he’s expecting a reply, but I find myself filling up the white box with words anyway.
I really want to kiss you again.
I hit the backspace and delete it.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Delete.
I didn’t want to leave you that night.
But I did.
I erase that sentence too and tuck my phone into the pocket of my hoodie. My thighs clench as I remember digging my hands into Matt’s hair, the cold bricks of the wall pressing into my back while I let my tongue explore his mouth.
I wanted to go to his place, or my place, or anywhere I could tear all the clothes off our bodies and not have to worry about freezing to death in the process. Instead, I kept my hands in my pockets as we made our way back through the building and told him I had to go as soon as we reached the street.
He texted me after to ask if everything was okay. I told him we’re fine, but the truth is I don’t know what ‘fine’ means anymore. Matt is turning me into a knot of fear and longing and wonder all rolled into one. He’s the rush of endorphins and the zap of adrenaline that comes with careening full tilt down a zip line, but he’s also the gaping canyon underneath.
“Attention à tous les passagers. L’autobus en direction de Toronto qui débarque à neuf heures sera trente minutes en retard.”
I can barely make out what the crackly voice on the speakers is saying and have to wait for the English translation before I realize the first leg of my trip is now going to leave thirty minutes late. Leaning my head against the wall, I close my eyes and groan.
“Well, don’t be too pissed off. Now you have an extra half hour to spend with me.”
My head snaps forward and my eyes fly open.
“Matt?”
“In the flesh.”
For some reason I scramble to my feet as I take in the sight of him popping some quarters into the vending machine.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
He shrugs. “Oh, you know, I just like hanging around bus stations and eating overpriced Cheetos in my spare time.”
The shock of his appearance wears off enough that I pick up on the blatant sarcasm.
“Okay, you’re right. Dumb question. You’re going home for Easter, then?”
He nods. “You too, I take it?”
“Yeah.” I glance at the bag sitting by his feet, red canvas with the name of a gym printed across the side. “You’re taking the bus? Like a mere mortal? You don’t have limos to drive you wherever you want yet?”
He grins. “Not quite yet. I don’t think people realize how many bands are famous but still flat broke, and we’re not eventhatfamous yet.”
