Signal to Noise(80)

HE PARKED THE motorcycle in the alley behind the factory and sneaked in first before helping Isadora through. She looked at the abandoned building skeptically, her eyes darting across the dusty floors.

“It’s over here,” he said, grabbing her hand and guiding her up the stairs.

He unlocked the door and ushered her in with a sweeping motion. Isadora walked in slowly and her mouth curved into a smile as she saw the posters, the images of singers from magazines, the little coffee table with the candles on it.

“You did this?”

“My friends did,” he said, not wanting to take all the credit. “We come here to listen to music. Do you... would you mind if I play some records?”

“Sure,” Isadora said, as she sat on the couch.





MECHE DRAGGED THE bag full of vegetables into the kitchen, humming as she shoved the tomatoes into the refrigerator.

“Meche, your friend came looking for you,” her grandmother said.

“Who came?”

“Sebastian.”

Sebastian was supposed to take her to the movies that afternoon, but not until three. Meche frowned, her spine tingling with an unpleasant hunch.

“What did he want?”

“He came to borrow a few records. I told him to bring them back when he’s done with them.”

Meche’s hands stilled. She slammed the refrigerator drawer shut and hurried to her room. She pulled the cardboard box from inside her closet and immediately saw which records were missing.

“Asshole!” she yelled, giving the box a good kick.

She curled her right hand into a fist.

She should have been more careful. She should have suspected this. Fortunately, Meche had a good idea of where he might be.





SEBASTIAN HAD PLAYED a couple of songs by Mecano and one by Simple Minds before his fingers grazed the Procol Harum record. He swallowed, not knowing what to do.

“Maybe you could put on something to dance to?” Isadora suggested.

“What kind of music?” he said, raising his head and looking at her.

“Your pick.”

A spectral light filtered through the old window panes, filling the room with an odd glow. He grabbed the record, set it down and lifted the needle. There was a tiny little hiccup as the needle slid across the vinyl surface and then the song began.

“It’s slow music,” he muttered. “We don’t have to dance to it. I can put something el—”

“It sounds nice.”

Isadora stood up. Despite his greater height, he felt very small as he took her hand, trying not to shake. Such moments did not happen in reality. They were reserved for movies and books. Any minute now he would wake up; it would turn out he was daydreaming again.

Sebastian placed his hands against Isadora’s waist, carefully moving his feet to the rhythm of the music. Twice he looked down to make sure he was taking the right steps, but then he began to relax, and even smiled broadly at Isadora as he pulled her closer to him.

“What?’ she asked, smiling back.

“I think I’d like to kiss you,” he admitted.

Her hands crept up and wrapped around his neck.

“You think?”

“I’m sure.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m not sure if it’s the right moment.”

“It’s right,” she whispered as she pulled him down.

When their lips touched it was as though a circuit had been closed and the power which surged in him when he cast spells now manifested once more, except it was different this time. It did not flow out of him, but seemed to flow through him and he was all of a sudden giddy, intoxicated, brimming and drowning in a sea of pleasure.

It lasted for a small eternity and then he lazily opened his eyes only to see Meche standing at the door.





AS SHE HURRIED up the factory’s stairs, she heard it. First faintly, then growing stronger as she climbed. The door was not locked and she pushed it a little way open, looking through the crack.

Sebastian was dancing with Isadora. They were very close together, her arms wrapped around his neck as they swayed to the melody of A Whiter Shade of Pale, the lovely, haunting organ pipes echoing through the room.

Sebastian’s hands were resting on the girl’s waist and he was moving very slowly.

When the singer sang “and although my eyes were open,” Isadora reached up and pulled him down for a kiss.

Sebastian closed his eyes, his fingers fluttering up and molding around the beautiful girl’s face.

Meche felt her heart grinding to a slow halt, like a broken clock. She smiled, though it was the grimace of despair.

Sebastian raised his head and opened his eyes just in that instant, locking with her own gaze.

Meche stepped back as he opened his mouth. Perhaps he intended to speak, but whether it was to Isadora or to her, she did not know.

Meche, who had prepared an abundance of insults for this occasion, suddenly found herself without a voice. Every syllable stuck to the roof of her mouth. She could not produce a single sound. Even worse, she felt tears gathering in her eyes.

She would not cry; not in front of him. She’d rather die than let him see her tears.

Meche closed the door, very gently, very quietly and hurried down the steps.