“That’s okay. I’ll keep coming here with you until it is,” I’d told her, a promise to myself as much as to her.
She’d given me a hug as we’d separated at Main Street. As always, she’d gone toward the manicured lawns of the west of the city, and me back to my own crowded house, but not before watching her walk away. Until her thin figure was so small, even my squints couldn’t bring her back into focus.
She’d hugged me.
Like I said; a perfect day.
I can hear the chaos three houses away before I get home. The door creaks on the hinge as I open it, trying to sneak in without being noticed.
“Xavier! Where have you been?!” my mother yells, barely two seconds after I’ve entered the kitchen.
I look around, the twins are sitting at the table with their crayons and butcher paper. Brian is lying on the floor in front of the TV.
“I was, er, studying at the library, Mom. Why?”
“I just got called in for an extra shift. I need you to watch the kids.” She rushes around, grabbing her bag and the cardigan hanging off the back of the chair.
“But-…”
“Please, Xavier. I’m already late. I didn’t have credit on my phone to call you.”
“When will you be home?”
“I don’t know. It’s crazy at work, I might even get a double shift. Oh, and Dairy Joy called, they want you to open for them tomorrow.”
“But Mr. Pritchard said he was going to help me study for a test we have on Friday.”
She stops for a moment, looking at me, shoulders dropping.
“I’m sorry, Xavier. I need the help. Look.” She points to the letter with the big, red bold writing on the fridge.
“Your choice, honey. You take the shift and we pay the electricity bill, or you… you go study. I’m not going to make the decision for you.” She gives me a weak smile and a kiss on the cheek and rushes out the door.
“Where’s Mom going?” Michael, the older twin looks up from their mess on the kitchen table.
“Just to work, buddy,” I say, sitting down and grabbing a crayon, drawing a sun on the sheet of paper.
“I’m hungry,” Brian says, finally looking up from the TV.
“Okay, my specialty?”
“I guess. Not too much peanut butter this time, it makes my mouth feel funny.”
“You got it.”
My feet drag on the way to the kitchen and I grab the bread and a knife from the drawer. As much as my body feels imprisoned in this house, in this role of big brother, my mind is somewhere else. On a lake, by the water’s edge, with a pretty dancer with long blonde hair and hazel eyes.
***
“Hi!”
I look up from the sink the next afternoon, elbow deep in suds and floating puddles of melted ice cream. It’s her. Dressed in pink tights and her grey leotard poking out from under the long black tunic loosely wrapped around her body. I’m suddenly more aware of the region just below my stomach than I’ve ever been. And I’m glad I have a sink to hide it.
“Hi,” I say back, feeling my face curl into an involuntary smile. She gifts me with a smile back. “Dance class?”
“Yep, my partner finally decided he can’t give up yet. I’m exhausted. I must look a mess!” she sighs as she runs a hand over her messy topknot, pushing back the little wisps of hair escaping the bun.
I want to, but I can’t tell her that she looks more delicious than all the tubs of ice cream here put together. I want to bury myself in the crook of her neck and breathe in the scent of her skin. I bet she tastes delectably salty after her workout.
Again, thank god for this sink in front of me.
“Anyway, I was wondering, would you mind going with me to the basketball court after work? I had an idea for my mural I wanted to work on.”
“Oh, sure. That’s great. But I don’t get off until four,” I say, shrugging apologetically.
“That’s cool, I can wait!” She does a little shuffle on her feet and gives me a grin. There’s something so light about her today. I feel like I need to take her hand to stop her from floating away. “I’m going to go sit over there, okay?”
I watch as she bounces away, wishing I could follow her. I give my body a few minutes to settle down and bring a bowl over to her.
“Oh, I can’t,” she whines, pouting at the sundae I’m holding out to her. “I’m watching my diet for one more torturous week. Then this place better watch out!”
I put it down on the table in front of her. “It’s, um, it’s just frozen yogurt and some raspberries. Very dancer friendly.”
She looks down at the bowl and then back up at me, her eyes round and wide. Her look of appreciation makes me heady. “How did you know…?” A soft breath escapes her nose. “I should stop asking that, shouldn’t I?”
“You can ask me anything. At any time,” I say, and then return to my station before I say something else as trite and lame.
I can’t stop watching her over the next two hours. It’s no different to how it was before, my obsession with watching her. The only difference is that now sometimes I catch her watching me back. When I catch her looking she just smiles and gives me a wink. Where does she get that confidence? I could use some. But she already has given me a little; sometimes when we’re alone, she makes me feel like I could conquer the world.
“Hey, I dreamt of these ones last night,” she says, holding a few paint swatches out like a fan when we’re walking to the basketball court later. “It was amazing, I felt like I was floating through an infinite cloud of swirling color. I could touch them, almost taste them. I wish I could recreate it.”
I just smile as I listen to her talking, her voice high with excitement, her elbow occasionally bumping up against mine as she waves her arms around, describing her dream.
“What do you think?” She stops chattering for a moment to ask me.
“Oh. Um. I don’t know much about art.”
“You don’t have to, just tell me what you think.” Her smile is so warm; as unsure as I feel about giving my opinion about something I know nothing about, I know I can’t refuse her anything.
“Well, I think you should stop worrying about re-creating it and just create. That dream came from you, those images are inside of you. So maybe stop thinking so much, and just trust your instinct. I bet you’ll make something that elicits the same feeling you had in your dream.”