Bad Advice for Keeping Your Hands Warm (WIP)

Melody Amelia Scott was pretty like a Christmas ornament; shiny and temporary. She wore eyeshadow with glitter in it. How eclectic is that? I never would have thought of wearing something like that. Pretty, glittery things- they never really were my specialty. The first time I saw Melody, on the grass in front of the school, sliding a cassette into a well-loved, sticker coated cassette player like some 1980’s nostalgia-junky, was the first time I had ever noticed eyeshadow with glitter in it. Like those birds who wag around brightly colored tailfeathers, hoping to attract a far more bland looking mate- she caught me. After that, I never stopped noticing glittery eyeshadow. I saw it on girls at school. Pretty, but always less pretty than her. I saw it in stores, and wondered which color palette would be her favorite. Suddenly, this little smudge of shiny makeup was so important. Enchanting. All because of her. 

If Melody were a Christmas ornament, she would be pink with silver, glittery snowflakes. 

I never expected winter break to last forever. Who would? I thought, maybe, one chilly day, I would have to put Melody away in a cardboard box labeled Christmas decor in Sharpie. She would collect dust in the attic, and I would only think of her next time winter rolled around, like a distant childhood memory of when Christmas was longer and more colorful. 

I never thought the tree’s branches would give under the weight of the ornament before I even got the chance to take her down. 

My girlfriend Melody Amelia Scott died last Friday. It has been seven days. It has been one week. It is three weeks until Christmas. It's cold now, really cold. The kind of cold Melody would love, because she loves everything. The kind of cold I hate, because I hate the cold more than anything. 

My earbuds have crackled ever since it left them in my pocket and tossed my pants in the washer thoughtlessly. It doesn’t really bother me. I think it gives a sort of dusty, nostalgic quality to the music. It's something Melody would have liked. She always said listening to music on those old tape cassettes and scratched up CDs was the best way to listen to music. She said every little unintentional flaw made the sound into a character. A scar, aged and flavored and marinated in time. She said pretty things always have to be a little ugly. I think she got that from Bob Ross or something. 

I didn’t skip the happy songs because I didn’t care enough to skip anything at all, even though the upbeat sounds of snare and symbols really rubbed on my brain like a cheese grater at that moment.

Relief came when I easily recognised the opening to Title and Registration. I love Death Cab for Cutie. I must have every album, Lp, and single they’ve ever released. 

Me and Melody used to trade our CDs back and forth, writing little notes on the clear plastic cases with Sharpie. Random thoughts like: 

Track 2 was out of this world. 

And 

The Beatles are so overrated. 

And 

They’re popular for a reason. You just don’t get it. 

And 

That last song made my ears bleed, not gonna lie. 

And

Okay maybe I like Octopus’s Garden just a little bit.

And 

What was the name of the song with the fiddle? It made me feel like a rabbit eating daisies in a field somewhere. A prairie even. 

And

You’re so weird.