My bed looks like a battlefield. In no mood to straighten it up, I pull out Forbidden from a pile of books on an equally scattered table top. And I start reading. I realize that I am reading after quite some time and I haven’t even bought any books lately.
Tabitha Suzuma is great with descriptions.
The beginning itself, contains an anonymous quote that I relate to.
You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel.
I am into chapter two, going through Maya’s narrative and imagining in front of me a disruptive kitchen when something takes me back into a memory. Suddenly I am filled with a vigour to scavenge for my copy of the perks of being a wallflower.
I recalled I had told someone that there’s a description in there that’s really beautiful- the part where they drive into a tunnel.
And I recalled she had wanted to read it.
I stood on my tiptoes on the bed to reach the comparatively thin, lime green book tucked between others. I could barely reach it and didn’t care enough to grab a chair or a stool, so confident I was that I just needed to flex my hands a little bit.
I grabbed the novel beneath it and pulled it towards myself, hoping that would let me get hold of the one above it. But no.
Humongous volumes of The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes, Uncle Tom’s Cabin and Chamber of Secrets came crashing down on my head like an earthquake.
But hey, I finally grabbed my prize!
So this text seems too long I know, but trust me, wouldn’t take more than five minutes of your time. But hey, why don’t you stop reading if you’re in the middle of something and come back later when you’re really calm and relaxed? Believe me, that’d be great 🙂 And you’d want to read the book itself.
While I was looking for the tunnel part, I came across another beautiful paragraph:
That’s when Sam grabbed my hand.” I love this song!”
She led me to the dance floor. And she started dancing. And I started dancing. It was a fast song, so I wasn’t very good, but she didn’t seem to mind. We were just dancing, and that was enough. The song ended, and then a slow one came on. She looked at me. I looked at her. Then, she took my hand and pulled me in to dance slow. I don’t know how to dance slow very well either, but I do Know how to sway.
Her whisper smelled like cranberry juice and vodka.
“I looked for you in the parking lot today.”
I hoped mine still smelled like toothpaste.
“I was looking for you, too.”
Then we were quiet for the rest of the song. She held me a little closer. I held her a little closer. And we kept dancing. It was the one time day that I really wanted the clock to stop. And just be there for a long time.
And the part I was talking about:
There’s something about that tunnel that leads to downtown. It’s glorious at night. Just glorious. You start at one side of the mountain, and it’s dark, and the radio is loud. As you enter the tunnel, the wind gets sucked away, and you squint from the lights overhead. When you adjust to the lights, you can see the other side in the distance just as the sound of radio fades to nothing because the waves just can’t reach. Then, you’re in the middle of the tunnel and everything becomes a calm dream. As you see the opening get closer, you just can’t get there fast enough. And finally, when you think you’ll never get there, you see the opening right in front of you. And the radio comes back even louder than you remember it. And the wind is waiting. A million lights and buildings and everything seems as exciting as the first time you saw it.