“AHHHH!” I yell, and jump up, my head coming into instant contact with another one, making us both yell out in pain.
“Ow!” I moan, rubbing my forehead. In the dying light, I can just make out Xavier doing the same, scowling at me.
“What are you going here?” he growls, reaching over and flicking a switch on the lamp, casting a warm yellow light over us and the inside of the tent.
“I came to see you, you boob!” I snap, the dull pain in my head only starting to recede from our impromptu headbutt.
“Why?” he snaps, sitting up and staring at me.
“‘Why? Because I haven’t seen you in over a week, you double boob!”
“So?” The scowl is deeply embedded on his reddening forehead. I have zero sympathy for him.
“Really? We’re back to monosyllabic Xavier? I thought we were over that.” I get up on my knees and move to crawl out of the tent.
“Where…?” he stops short.
I look at him over my shoulder. “What?” I snap back, his tone making mine defensive in response.
“Are you leaving?”
I rock back on my heels, staring at him. “Do you want me to?”
There’s a tensing of his jaw, then his shoulders fall and he sighs. “No.”
“Good, because I’m not. I was just grabbing my backpack.” I poke a tongue out at him and he squirms.
I come back into the tent and sit in the spot he’s cleared for me. “I came to see you because I haven’t seen you for a week, and I decided it’s time you stopped sulking.”
“I wasn’t,” he sulks.
I bite back and laugh. “Yes, you were. And I get it, you were embarrassed because of what that twatwaffle said, even though you have no reason to be. So, get over it.” I lock eyes with him, not giving him a chance to look away, so he can see how serious I am.
He stares back this time and I see something, something defiant in his eyes, that he lets flash and then simmer and fade away. It’s a concession I feel like he’s making just for me. And no one else in the world. I take advantage of it.
“Hey, grab that blanket and lay it out,” I say, while he’s distracted by his own thoughts. He does as I say and I unpack the containers from my backpack. Some bread and cold cuts. A fruit salad. Some bags of chips. A container of my special mac and cheese.
“What’s this?” he asks when I’m done sorting out the spread.
“It’s a picnic. You eat it,” I say and grab a piece of bread and make myself a sandwich as he watches. I take a giant bite and chew it, then open my mouth, teasing him with my masticated food.
He shakes his head and then laughs. “So much for the elegant dancer.”
“This elegant dancer is taking a one meal break from her diet. So, watch out. Now shush and try my mac and cheese, I put a special ingredient in it.”
He follows suit and we eat in silence for a moment before he finally breaks it.
“How did you know I was going to be here?”
“Well, you weren’t at the basketball court, and you don’t work at the Dairy Joy any more. I don’t know where you live. So I took a chance.”
He just nods and crunches on a piece of watermelon.
“I’m sorry… about what happened at the ice cream place. I didn’t want you to see that.”
“Which part? The guys being a jerk to you or you taking their bait and fighting with them.”
“All of it, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just sorry Mikey didn’t get to take his sundae home.”
“We, er, it’s tight for us. At home, money wise. It’s just my mom. She works a lot.”
I nod, understanding how hard it is for him to be sharing this with me right now. So, I won’t interrupt, not until he’s said everything he wants to.
“My dad hasn’t been around for… well, since the twins had just turned two. And it’s not like we were swimming in it then. So, I’ve been working as much as I can to help out. They were good to me at the ice cream store. Hired me when I had no experience or references. Gave me as much work as I wanted. Even some times when I know they didn’t need it. Understood when I had to take off to take care of the boys when my Mom worked. She’s… had it really tough.”
He stops talking and takes a big bite of his sandwich and I take the chance to ask a question while the gates might be open.
“What are you reading all the time? Whenever we’re at the basketball court, or in quiet times at work?” I point to the upturned book he cast to the side, probably pre-headbutt.
He reaches for it and shows me. It’s a law textbook.
“You want to be a lawyer?”
He nods. “Yeah, always.”
“Why?”
He thinks for a moment, and I love that about him. How everything he says is measured, considered.
“It think because my life is so messy and there’s so much order to law. Almost every aspect of our lives has something that is covered by a rule. But even then, it’s so open to interpretation. You can manipulate it. Chaos in order.”
“Rather than order in chaos,” I say, and he looks at me as if I’ve spoken exactly what he’s thinking.
“That’s what dancing is. And art. It can be so chaotic, there aren’t rules, there shouldn’t be. But dance is about the exact right movement, angle, shape at the right time. And the order of those movements. Dancers spend a lifetime trying to perfect a pirouette, the technical aspect of it, but there is still so much open to interpretation. I think, I think that’s why I’ve been enjoying working on my mural so much. It’s all me. And… you. It wouldn’t exist without you. Thank you.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares out the opening of the tent, watching the pink and orange of the sunset darken into night.
“I can’t tell if we’re two sides of the same coin, or the same side of different coins,” he murmurs.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we’re so different, but the same.”
“I don’t care. As long as I can be tails on the coin.” I say.
“You do have a nice tail.” I look at him, and he’s grinning. The seriousness of the moment before broken.
“I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed… a little too much.”
“Well, I’ve noticed that you have a handsome head,” I reply and he takes a deep breath, his eyes on me. I want to be closer to him. As close as I can be. I inch forward, our hands touch on the blanket between us.
The smile fades from his face and it’s all seriousness again.
“Malynda. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
I shake my head.