He picked it up so I could see it, and I gulped when I saw the color illustration of the four members of the group standing over the title printed in yellow: The Beatles Yellow Submarine.
Axel put it on, and as the childish rhythms began, the voice amid the sound of waves, he tapped his fingers. He smiled, entertained me, and sang part of the chorus, not knowing what that song meant for me, that every time I heard, “We all live in a yellow submarine,” it was an I love you that got caught in my throat.
It felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest, but I couldn’t help laughing when he lay on the floor, still belting out the chorus.
“You’re a god-awful singer, Axel.”
He was still smiling when I lay back on the floor. He turned his head toward me. We were so close that his breath tickled me. His eyes descended to my lips and remained staring at them a few tense seconds. He sat up quickly and looked back through his records, showing me one.
“Abbey Road?” he asked.
“No! Not that one! It’s…”
“It’s my favorite.”
I looked with new eyes at the mythical cover where the Beatles appeared on a crosswalk. I loved it too, but track number seven…I hadn’t listened to it again, and I didn’t want to, not then and not ever. I always skipped it, always. Finally I nodded, saying it was fine, and “Come Together” filled the living room, followed by “Something.”
We chatted for a while, lying there close to each other. I was fascinated as he talked about Paul Gauguin, one of his favorite painters, with his synthetic style and his swaths of color. His masterpiece was Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going? and he painted it just before attempting suicide. He also liked Vincent van Gogh, and while “Oh! Darling” was playing, he fooled around and sang, and I realized that neither of those artists had achieved success while alive and that madness had united them.
“What about you? Who do you like?” Axel asked.
“There’s just so many.”
“Come on, name one.”
“Monet transmits something special to me, and there’s a phrase of his I love.”
“What?”
“‘For me, the motif is something completely secondary. What I want to represent is what exists between the motif and me,’” I recited from memory.
“A nice phrase.”
“But you always want to know the motif! You spend the whole time going, ‘Leah, what does that mean?’” I imitated his gravely voice. “‘What’s this red dot here? Why did you do that line?’”
“I can’t help it; I’m curious.”
I didn’t reply. I was relaxed, my eyes focusing on the wooden beams in the ceiling, thinking how perfect it was to be by his side, to spend a Saturday by the sea, painting, listening to music, cooking together, doing whatever we felt like… I wanted it to last forever.
And just then the first chords started. They were weak, soft, but I could have recognized them anywhere in the world: “Here Comes the Sun.” I tensed up instantly. I leaned on my elbow to get up as soon as I could and take the needle out of that groove, but Axel got in my way. I was scared when he put his hands on both sides of my body. I tried to escape, but he hugged me close and stopped me.
“I’m sorry, Leah.”
“Don’t do this to me, Axel. I won’t forgive you.”
The notes rose up and whirled around us.
His hug squeezed me tighter.
I wriggled, trying to get away…
71
_________
Axel
I held her down on the ground, and I trembled when I saw her that way, so wounded, so broken, as if those feelings were somehow penetrating me, as if I could feel her in my skin. Leah tried to push me away with all her strength as the song seemed to spin around us. A part of me wanted to let her go. The other, the one that thought I was right and I was doing this for her own good, squeezed her hard against my body. I pushed her hair out of her face, and she shook and sobbed.
“It’s over. Relax,” I whispered.
The notes proceeded to the finale and Leah cried her soul out. I had never seen her like that, as if the pain were born inside her and finally emerged.
“Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun.”
I relaxed my embrace when the song was over. Her body continued to tremble beneath mine, and the tears slid down her cheeks. She wiped them off and closed her eyes. I didn’t know how to explain to her that she couldn’t go on hiding away her painful memories instead of confronting them, how to convince her that you could learn from pain and sometimes you had to…
I pulled away and Leah stood up.
I heard the door shut.
I stayed there by myself while the record she hadn’t managed to stop kept spinning. I probably should have gone outside to smoke a cigarette and calm down before going to bed. Or stayed there awhile until I felt sleepy.
But I didn’t.
I got up and went to her room. I entered without knocking. Leah was in her bed, balled up beneath the tangled sheets, and I went over and slid in beside her. Her soft sweet scent rattled me. I ignored my common sense, wrapping a hand around her waist. I squeezed her against me, hating that her back was turned and she wouldn’t let me see her.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
She started crying again. Fainter now.
My hand remained on her stomach and her outspread hair tickled my face. I just wanted her to stop crying, but at the same time, I wanted her to keep on, to let it all out…
I remained next to her in the darkness until she calmed down. When her breathing settled, I knew she was asleep and thought I should let her go and leave. I thought about it…but I didn’t do it. I remained by her side, awake for what seemed like hours, and I must have fallen asleep at some point too, because when I opened my eyes, the daylight was pouring in through the little window.
Leah was holding me. Her legs were intertwined with mine, and her hands were on my chest. My heart skipped a beat. I looked at her, asleep in my arms. I gazed at each detail of her peaceful face, the round cheeks and the freckles softened by the sun on her button nose.
I could feel a knot in my stomach.
All I wanted was to kiss her. That was all. And I was scared because it wasn’t lust. I imagined doing it. Bending over her, brushing her lips, covering them with mine, licking them slowly, savoring them…
Leah shifted as though troubled. She blinked and opened her eyes. She didn’t pull away. She just looked up at me a bit. I held my breath.
“Tell me you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Axel.”
I kissed her on the forehead and we remained there in the morning silence, holding each other in bed, her cheek on my chest and my fingers sunk into her hair while I struggled to maintain control.
72
_________
Leah
It was a sunny day, despite the presence of a few tangled clouds. I know because, as we drove down the highway to Brisbane, I kept my forehead pressed into the window in the back seat, thinking about how beautiful the cobalt blue of the sky was. I tried to imagine what paints I would use to recreate it, what the exact tones would be…