Now & Then
A massive window framed the couch where they sat, showcasing an ancient tree with infinite twisting limbs dripping with rain.
The window itself was lit with striations of droplets, lightly dancing their way down the dewy glass, like sentient organisms mindlessly commuting.
The record player in the corner of the living room crooned with old jazz; trumpets softly wailing like an elegy for a wasted day.
“It’s crazy to think,” Nick said, holding his book, “that animals have different senses than humans. They say that bees see an entirely different spectrum of light than we do. Isn’t that wild? Apparently they can see ultraviolet markings on flowers. Also the petals produce electromagnetic fields that bees can sense too. Isn’t that crazy to think about? There’s an entire reality around us that we’ll never experience.”
Empty plates sat on top of the mahogany coffee table with scattered crumbs and greasy residue of breakfast sausages. Dirty forks rested neatly to the side; the final touch to the cluttered tableau of hard-covered art books, coffee-stained mugs, and a custom ceramic ashtray with half-burnt joints.
Laila sat unmoved in her seat, staring at her phone. “Is that the book about shrooms?” She asked.
“Yeah, but I mean, it’s also about more than that,” Nick said.
Incense burned a beautiful dance of smoky calligraphy, hypnotically drifting with angular tendrils into oblivion. The room soaked quietly in an aroma of wet Hinoki leaves and sandalwood.
“Want to watch a movie?” Laila asked.
“Sure, what do you want to watch?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know, something nostalgic maybe?”
“Like what?” Nick asked.
Laila paused to think. “How about Now and Then?”
Nick laughed. “The 90s kids’ movie?”
Laila tensed up with a defensive shrug.
“I don’t know. It used to be my favorite movie. It’s so fun and nostalgic,” Laila said.
“I’m kind of in the mood for something different,” Nick said.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, something more stimulating.”
Laila scoffed. “Oh god, I’m not letting you pick the movie again,” she said, “I almost broke up with you after the last one we watched, remember?”
“Ok I’m sorry, but Chungking Express is a masterpiece. Sometimes it’s good to shake your snow globe once in a while.” Nick said.
“Sorry, I’ve already tuned out,” Laila said.
The record player needle carved its way through the melancholy wax with a dusty sparkle. They sat quietly in their living room surrounded by color-coded bookshelves and musky record sleeves. The warm, yellow flicker of the candle was the only sign of life in the muted, grey room.
“Babe?” Laila asked, in a playfully trepid tone.
“Yeah, babe?” Nick said.
“Do you think Franscita is ok?” Laila asked, fluttering her dark eyes.
“I’m sure she’s fine, they’re made for the outdoors,” Nick said.
“But babe, what about her little eggitos?” Laila playfully asked.
“Don’t worry, she’s keeping them warm,” Nick said.
“Do you think we should put a tarp or something over the tree?”
Nick laughed. “It’s ok babe. I wouldn’t worry.”
The record player abruptly stopped as the vintage machine mechanically returned to its silent resting position. But the room was far from quiet.
The gentle music of an ordinary day buzzed all around them. A cacophony of invisible noises synchronized together like an orchestra tuning their instruments. There was the staccato rapping of rain drops against the house; the water cycle of the dishwasher swishing in the far-off kitchen; the tenor bass of a distant airplane soaring above; the incessant tumbling drum of the dryer lulling them into a late-afternoon slumber; and the occasional splash of a passing car outside, reminding them of the cozy warmth inside.
“Did you talk to your mom today?” Nick asked.
“Yeah we talked for a while,” Laila said, “I feel so bad, I just wish she lived closer. She’s just working so much right now.”
“Try not worry, babe. I’m sure she’s doing fine,” Nick said. His demeanor then turned more serious. “Did your Dad call?”
“No. Not that I expected him too.” Laila chuckled with a smile that quickly vanished to a blank gaze.
Nick softly reached for her hand.
“You know what? Let’s watch Now and Then.” Nick said with a renewed energy.
“Are you sure, babe?”
“Of course. It’s your birthday, after all.”
The brackish grey dimmed to an even darker dusk as Laila and Nick sat watching the movie. The nurturing crackle of the fire and nostalgic Nineties needle-drops gently guided Nick into a lucid sleep.
“You see Sam? There are no perfect families...”
Nick was suddenly jerked awake by the sound of dialogue from the film.
Two girls were sitting in a treehouse with an indigo night sky behind them; their faces painted with the artificial blue of movie moonlight.
“It’s normal for things to be shitty,” the girl continued.
“It might be normal, but it still hurts, the other said. All those parents died, Teeny. My dad chose to leave.”
The two girls embraced for a strong hug. The wetness of their cheeks pressed together as swelling string instruments crescendoed.
Laila was perched on the edge of the couch staring at the TV; her face transmuted by the flickering blues and reds emanating from the LED screen. Tears were blooming in her soulful brown eyes, but, as Nick noticed, the bottom half of her face was comfortably nested in a relaxed smile. The kind of warm tranquility that wraps around your body when seeing an old friend.
A sudden wave of realization stirred through Nick’s soul. He sat up straight and turned his attention to the movie once again.
Nick finished the last hour of the film with Laila curled by his side, forgetting the commuters commuting in the muted distance. Holding Laila closer than ever before.