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KNOW, KNOW, YOU KNOW?

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Track of the day: Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop - Landon Pigg

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It’s funny how people talk of someone as if they know them, despite not having seen them, nor met them. How they can know someone without having really known them. These people that are armed with words, weapons that aren’t tangible yet have the ability to do so much damage.

They start off small. A lit match.

They are a whisper to one’s ear.

Wendy’s major was business.

Some are good.

She made an impact on the first week of the first semester.

She aced the entrance exams didn’t she?

They slowly scatter, like dust in the wind.

I heard Wendy dropped out because of a guy.

Some are bad.

Didn’t she used to see a lot of men before?

It’s karma. She humps then dumps. That’s what she’s good at. Now, look at what happened to her.

Then they spread, uncontrollably, like wildfire.

They burn.

They hurt.

They stay.

They have burst into flames and left nothing but a lingering smoke of questionable truths.

Rumours. Irene has gotten to know Wendy through them. Gossip that has stood out to her ever since that Wednesday night, the night that she has first met Wendy. Wendy is popular, someone who has made a lot of impact for only being in campus for three months.

A smart student, a score of 98% on the entrance exams. She knew a lot of people, made a lot of friends, a lot of enemies. She was the campus crush. Perfect dark hair, flawless skin, wonderful smile. Talented. She dated a lot of guys. She had “it” with a lot of guys. But she never had a proper relationship, those ones that lasted long and involved commitment.

These rumours circulated, most of them an exaggerated repeat of each other.

And each time Irene watches Wendy, from her performances every Wednesday night up until the walk home, she wonders whether any of the rumours are true. If Wendy is who these people say she is.

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“You follow me home, don’t you?”

Irene almost drops the stack of books in her hands at the sudden voice in her ear, at the sudden breath that tickled the tips of it. She recognises the voice and turns around.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Wendy says. She grabs the books and inspects them one by one. “Great Expectations, Charles Dickens. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Lord of the…Flies. Hmm…” She chuckles and Irene finds the place slightly brighter than before. “Literature classics. A Literature major?”

Irene grabs the books back. “Yeah.” Somehow Irene finds herself closing off, a reflexive shyness that has developed from having been whispered onto. “And I don’t follow you home. My house just happens to be along the same way.”

“Just happens? You can’t seriously believe that things just,” Wendy takes the books back, “happen.” She holds out the copy of ‘Lord of the Flies’. “I like this book.”

“Well, if you say that then I suppose you being here in a bookstore didn’t just happen then.”

“Oh, this was a coincidence. I just happen to be into poetry and literature as well,” She taps the guitar case that is strapped on her back. “Songwriter.”

“Ah.” Irene usually says more than an ‘ah’. She is the type of person that engages in conversations and expands on them. But somehow, at this moment, talking to Wendy, she’s slightly lost for words.

“What’re these for? You collect literature classics?” Wendy asks.

“It’s for a paper. Critical analysis of literature classics of our own choice.”

“You can just borrow them from the library, can’t you?”

“I prefer to annotate. Helps me think.”

It is Wendy’s turn to ‘ah’. She doesn’t say any more after that. Instead she follows Irene as Irene heads to another section of the store. It is quiet yet Irene doesn’t feel the awkwardness at having Wendy there. There are a lot of questions that Irene wants to ask Wendy: ‘Do you know about the things people say about you?’ ‘Are any of them true?’ But Irene cannot gather up the courage to ask. It is a line she mustn’t cross. First meeting and all.

Wendy breaks the silence. “Oh, yeah. I haven’t asked for your name. You probably know who I am.”

She says it as if she knows she’s being talked about. That or she assumes she’s being talked about because of her weekly Wednesday night performances.

“Irene. That’s my name.”

“Irene,” Wendy repeats. Irene wonders if her name sounds that good when other people say it. Probably not.

“You didn’t answer my question, you know.”

Irene looks at Wendy strangely. “What question?”

“That things,” Wendy does these air quotations with her fingers, “just happen.”

“Sometimes things just happen. And I’m saying my house just happens to be along the same route as to yours.”

“But, here's a theory for you.” There is a sparkle in Wendy’s eyes as she says this, “What if you living there, you working at the place I perform at, us meeting here right now are not just mere coincidences?”

“Are you implying that we are destined to meet each other?” Irene says, sounding cynical, but later she will find that Wendy was right. That she was meant to meet her.

“Yes. That things happen for a reason. Us, talking right now, is happening because of a reason.”

“And what reason is that?”

“To get to know each other.”

“We know each other. You know my name. I know yours.”

Really. Irene isn’t usually a difficult person. And she does want to get to know Wendy. It just isn’t her day to socialise. There are too many things on her mind right now. Deadlines, commitments, club activities.

“Well, yeah, but I meant know know, you know?”

Irene laughs at that and Wendy smiles at her. A smile that is delightful, just like the smile she gave Irene the first time she saw Wendy perform, if she did smile at her. Irene makes sure to keep it in her memory.

“Okay. What do you want to know then?” Irene asks. Wendy doesn’t seem to be the person Irene has thought her to be.

“Right now?”

“Sure.”

“You want to get to know each other, right now. At a bookstore. Standing up.” Wendy chuckles again. It is a beautiful sound. “You’re amusing.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. But I was thinking over some coffee at least.”

“I don’t drink coffee, though?”

Wendy laughs. It isn’t meant to be funny but Wendy thinks it to be funny. It’s really true that Irene doesn’t drink coffee.

Wendy composes herself before saying, “They serve other things too. Like hot chocolate. But never mind that. I just said it because it’s like a thing to say. When you get to know a person, it’s usually over coffee.”

“That’s not true. You can get to know a person over anything. It depends if both persons are willing to get to know each other.”

“I want to get to know you. Do you want to get to know me?”

Irene notices Wendy’s piercings on her right ear as she tucks her dark hair behind it. Now what’s the story behind that?

What is the truth behind Wendy?

It is a curiosity that grows ever deeper and deeper, the more so as Irene looks into Wendy’s dark eyes. They are eyes that don’t reveal anything. They cover and hide things, shroud the truth with that shade of black. It keeps Wendy a mystery. It keeps her distant regardless of how friendly she is being right now.

Irene takes a risk. It is what she wants to do: to untangle Wendy from the dark branches that is keeping her a cryptic perplexity.

Irene says it firmly. “I do.”

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A/N: There's not much to say for this one, really. I hope people stick by and find out what happens between these two youngins'.  Upvote and comments are always appreciated.