by Daisy Allen
"Wait,” I think I hear him say and I almost don't stop. But I know I'll wonder for the rest of my life if I don’t. "Wait," he says again, loud enough for me to know I didn’t imagine it.
And I do.
I feel a soft hand on my shoulder and I spin around.
"Are you game?" he asks. Simple as that.
"For what?"
"For whatever," he replies, his mouth curling up into a smile.
I say the only thing I can in this moment, "Yes."
His hand slides down my arm, the smile growing on his face. "Good. I want to show you something."
***
We run for what seems like hours.
His hand started out wrapped around my wrist, and somewhere along the way, it slid down to meet my hand, our fingers entwining.
I don't know where we're going. And I don't care. I don't notice the city buildings giving way to houses or the houses giving way to trees. I just focus on breathing, and not letting go.
I don't know where we're going, but none of that seems to matter to me right now. Only who I'm going there with.
"How... much... longer...?" I gasp, when my legs feel like they might not last much longer.
"Not long. Just a little way to go."
I save my breath and don't reply.
I've lived in this city all my life, but I have no idea where we are. I can't hear too many cars, but there's a rushing of water, so I know we're near the dam. The path under us is potholed and neglected, grass shooting up between the cracks, reaching for the sun after the long, harsh winter we've just had.
The street is lined with bushes and trees, thick with vegetation. An array of shades of green and brown.
He tugs hard on my hand and pulls me into a sudden gap in the woods. It's instantly dark, the branches blocking out most of the sun. The air is cooler here too.
There's a fleeting moment of wonder - what am I doing following this stranger into the woods?
It passes just as suddenly, as the forest opens up, and seemingly out of nowhere, the lake appears in front of me, in all its glorious decadence.
I stop instantly in my tracks.
What little breath I had is gone.
"Wow." I can't help but sigh.
The morning sunlight dances across the tips of the rippling waves like droplets of liquid silver scattering across the surface, giving it an almost ethereal gleam.
I feel myself reach out, wanting to touch it, but too afraid to shatter the illusion.
"Go," he urges me, stretching my hand forward, and then letting go.
I walk the twenty steps it takes to reach the water's edge, but I don't touch it.
"I've... I've never seen the lake like this before, from here. It looks so different from the bridge," I say, referring to the focal point of the town, the main road that crosses the lake. I can just make out the bridge from here, about a mile away.
It seems like it's a different world over there, people and cars rushing about their business. I turn back and notice him watching me.
"This is amazing. Thanks for bringing me here. Is this what you wanted to show me?"
"Partly. But there's something else." He gestures with his head to the left and presses his finger to his lips. I nod and follow, taking careful steps as he leads me to a tree a few yards away.
He points to a branch about a foot above my head, and I notice a small nest made of twigs and dried grass.
Taking my hand, he helps me take a foothold on the tree stump and I hoist myself up, peering down into the nest.
Three little orange beaks attached to three baby birds reach up to greet me.
"Oh my gosh," I coo, suddenly overwhelmed by the innocence of them. A knot in my throat blocks my voice and so I just stare at them as they squirm around in the nest, keeping each other warm as they wait for their mother to return.
"They hatched about three days ago," he whispers as I jump back down to the ground and step away, not wanting to disturb the infant birds.
"So, so cute. What kind are they?"
"I'm not sure, I think they might be a type of finch. It's hard to tell as babies. But I saw the mother a few times and she had a bit of a red chest,” he says, grinning at me.
I grin back, sharing his excitement. "Wow. That's amazing. I've seen a few nests in the trees around my house, but I've never seen any eggs let alone babies!"
He nods, his green eyes glinting, reflecting the sunlight.
"I knew you'd like them," he says. And I try not to die from the thought that he’s been thinking of me.
"I did. I do. Thank you. For sharing it with me."
He nods again and we hold each other's gaze for a moment, then he turns away, clearing his throat. I look away as well, giving us both a moment to work out what's happening between us.
I walk closer to the edge of the lake, dipping just the very tip of my shoe into it. It's funny to think that in those depths a whole different ecosystem exists that we can’t see from land.
"Do you ever wonder what's happening down there?" he asks, moving over to stand next to me, watching the ripples from my shoe spread out over the water’s surface.
"I was literally wondering just exactly that."
He doesn't seem surprised to hear it.
There's a rustling and we both whip our heads around, just in time to catch a glimpse of the mother bird arriving home. Those happy bird babies are safe now.
I scan the area around us and for the first time I notice a small tent set up about 15 feet from the water, in amongst some bushes.
"Oh, hey, look." I point to it, and he looks in the direction of my finger.
"Oh, yeah," he says, then looks away almost immediately.
"Is... is that yours?" I ask, before I can stop myself, before I realize it might not be something he wants to answer. But then why did he bring me here?
"Um. Yeah," he says, still staring out over the lake.
"Do you... um, do you live here?"
He's quiet for a moment and I'm not sure whether he’s hoping I’ll drop the questions or if he’s trying to formulate an answer.
It doesn't matter if you do, is what I want to say to him. I don't care. But I don't know if it's what he wants to hear.
"No, not exactly. I just... my house gets a little crowded sometimes. So, I come out here where it's quiet. And I can just read or sleep."
"Where do you live?" I can’t stop the questions. I want to know everything about him.
"Doesn’t matter. I like it here."
I nod. "I do too. It's just so peaceful, I can't believe I didn't know about this place. How did you find it?"
He shrugs and bends over, pulling a weed from the ground. "I like to look for things that other people can't see. Or don't take the time to, I guess."
Something compels me to go into the water. It’s urgent. Wild.
My shoes go flying in different direction as I kick them off my feet and wade ankle deep into the lake. The water is cold but bearable. Something about the way it ripples around my ankles makes me laugh.
"Come in here!" I yell at him, and he laughs, shaking his head.
It's the first time I've seen him laugh, and the sounds embeds itself into my sternum.
I kick my leg up and splatter him with cold lake water. He laughs again and lifts his face up to the drops, like I'm baptizing him. I spin around in the water, lifting my arms as I pirouette, the water splashing around me, flicking off my bare toes, as I lift one foot to my leg.
I do another, and another, until I'm almost falling over from dizziness.
I stumble out of the water and flop onto the grass, curling my cold toes into the dirt.
"That was amazing. Are you a dancer?" he asks.
"Well, I hope to be,” I admit.
"No, I think you already are."
I shrug.
"You don't sound so sure."
How does he know that? How does he know something I haven’t even admitted to myself?
"Right now, I
want to dance more than anything. And that I know. But I guess, I guess I think that I may not always want to be a dancer, does that make sense?"
He doesn't pretend it does, but I know he wants to. I want him to understand it, understand me.
"Like, I want to dance, but... I'm discovering there are other things I want to do as well."
"Like what?"
I stand up, and go back to the water's edge.
"Like... that" I point out to the lake. "I want to make something as beautiful as that." Why do I feel so comfortable sharing things with this stranger more than I do with my family, my closest friends?
"Well, I think you dance just as beautifully, if those pirouettes were anything to go by."
"Thank you. I also love color. I see color when I hear music, you know. And when I dance, sometimes I imagine I’m painting with my movement onto a canvas. But it’s only something I can see, and fleeting. I want to make something other people can see with their eyes as well."
"Do you paint? Draw?"
"Fuck no." I laugh. "I cannot control these damn things," I look down at my hands." I can't make what I see in my head come out through my fingers and onto canvas. I can't explain it. My handwriting's atrocious. You'd know that if you'd read my letter." I poke my tongue at him.
He flushes.
"What about you? What is it you want to do?" I ask and I realize I want to know so bad.
He takes a deep breath. And I know that whatever he’s about to say, he’s never said to anyone else before. That seems to be the theme of our conversation.
"I just want to find where I belong."
"Wow, I've never heard someone say that before."
"That’s because you've been surrounded by people who belong,” he says, with no hint of envy or irony.
I nod. I guess there’s truth to that. "Probably. Lucky us."
"You have no idea."
I want to ask him more, but it feels like it's too soon. Like he's already given me more than he would give anyone.
The only way I know this is, because I've done the same for him.
"Hey." He stands up, brushing the dirt from his hands. "Come on."
"Come on, what?"
He's grins and holds his hand out again. "You game?"
I take his hand even before I've answered.
"Fuck, yes."
***
We're standing in front of Home Depot.
This can't be right.
But we are, standing here, right outside the opening and closing sliding doors. Into Home Depot.
"Um." I say, once he hasn’t given me any idea of why we’re here.
"Shush. You said you were game, remember? Well, come on, start walking."
I want to grumble, but the last thing I want is to seem like a brat.
"Where am I walking to?"
"Follow me." He grabs my wrist and drags me through the towering aisles filled with nails and hammers and all sorts of tools that look like medieval torture devices.
This place is huge. I never noticed just how big it was before. Things seem larger when you're being dragged through them by a virtual stranger with no knowledge of the destination.
"Stop," he says as he comes to an abrupt standstill and I bang into him.
"Sorry," I mumble as I look around. We're in the paint department.
"We're here!" he says, with a flourish. He seems to be enjoying this, his initial shyness or whatever it was, seemingly faded into the breeze as we ran.
"Er, and ‘here’ is where exactly." I turn around in a full circle half expecting to see a prank camera crew jump out from behind a shelf.
"Here. Look." He points to the rows and rows and rows of paint swatches. Perfect squares of color in every possible imaginable shade.
I have to close my eyes for a moment, before taking it all in again. The wall of graduating shades is hypnotizing, the order amongst what could be complete chaos so oddly satisfying.
"You ready?" he asks, as confusingly as ever.
"For what?" I feel a jolt of adrenalin rush through me, I could get used to not knowing. Every surprise has been fun so far.
"Well, you said you like color,” he replies as he gestures again to the swatches. “I'm going to give you 30 seconds to grab all the paint color swatches that you like. Okay?" He looks down at his watch.
"Wait! What for?”
"No questions! 5... 4…"
"Why am I doing this?" I grab his arm, yelling at him, the excitement making me giddy.
He ignores me and continues to count through his giant grin. "3... 2..."
"Ahhh!" I scream, turning to the display, frozen to the spot.
"1! Go! GRAB!"
"Holy shit!" I scream, more excited than I can process.
"What are you doing? You've wasted five seconds already!"
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I don’t know what to choose! Help me!”
He comes up behind me and covers my eyes, leaning in to whisper against my ear.
"Close your eyes and quiet your mind for a moment. Remember those colors you say you love?"
An explosion happens somewhere in the darkest corner of my mind and I see them. The colors.
"Yes!"
"Let them guide you.” He pulls his hand away. “Go! You only have twenty seconds left!"
I scramble forwards, grabbing paper strips of color off the wall, handfuls and handfuls. It’s like I can taste them. Feel the color through my fingertips. I’m almost drunk on them. I grab some more, and they spill out of my hands and splay into a puddle of dyes on the floor.
In the corner of my eye, I can see him leaning over to pick them up. "I've got 'em! Keep going!"
There’s a striking purple, and a neon pink, a royal blue. The more I see, the more I want.
"Five more seconds!" he warns.
"It's not enough!"
It feels like there wouldn't ever be enough time.
"Three. Two. One. And stop!! Step away from the wall!”
I cheat and reach for two more before he laughs and grabs the back of my collar dragging me back through the store, until we're standing where we were just a few minutes ago. I stare at him, panting for breath.
"'Wait here. Don't move." he says, and runs back into the store before I say anything.
I clutch my stack of paint swatches to my chest, already attached to them, despite having no idea what's going on. My whole body is buzzing with adrenaline and anticipation, I can't remember the last time I felt like this.
It feels like an hour before he appears again, but it was probably mere minutes.
"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Where's the fun in that? And it was fun, wasn't it?"
All he has to do is look at my face to know that answer to that.
"Let's go,” he says. And starts to walk away.
"Now where?" I yell after him.
"You're going to have to trust me one last time,” he yells back over his shoulder.
And I do.
We walk in silence. Down along the main street of town and turn into an area I don't know too well. There are abandoned houses and neglected gardens. A little different from the perfectly mowed lawns of the houses near my own.
I move a little closer to him as we walk. He smiles, slowing his step.
"It's okay, you're safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you."
But the way his promise makes a shiver travel down my spine makes me wonder if that’s true. I follow him through what looks like an abandoned high school to an empty basketball court.
"Come on, it's over here,” he says.
"What is?"
We walk around the outline of the court to a paint chipped wall. He throws our backpacks to the side, as we stand there, staring up at it.
"That. That is your canvas."
“What?” I don’t understand what he means.
“Well, you said you wanted to create something beautiful. With colors. Wel
l, you’ve got everything you need. You’re literally holding the colors in your hand. And that is your canvas.”
I stare up at the colossus of the blank wall in front of me. It seems like an impossible task. I look down at the giant stack of paint swatches clutched tight in my two fists.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft.
“I… I don’t know what to do,” my voice trembles as I reply. I hold my two hands out in surrender. To him. To the task.
He comes up behind me, covering my eyes with his hand again. I shiver at the feel of his hand brushing against my skin, even though the sun is beating down against the side of my face.
"Stop thinking. I can already tell, that’s your downfall. Just close your eyes. Remember... remember all those colors you pulled from the wall of paint swatches?"
I don't know how to say that I remember each and every one without sounding like a freak. So I just nod.
“Is there one that stands out to you?”
As soon as he says it, it flashes in my mind. And he knows.
He pulls his hand away.
"Start with that one."
He pulls a paper bag out of his back pocket and hands it to me. It's a pair of scissors and a glue gun. He must've gotten them when he ran back inside the store.
"You've got everything you need. Go. Create."
He steps away and I panic, asking, "Wait, are you leaving?"
He chuckles, "No, I'm not going anywhere, I'll be right over there." He points to a spot in the shade on the far side of the wall.
I nod, comforted and then stare down at the colors in my hand. This is crazy. I started this morning, thinking I'd be handing in an assignment and eating orange jello in the cafeteria and now I’m here with… wait.
"Hey,” I call out to him.
He lifts his head from the notebook and, pen in his hand, shielding his eyes as he looks up at me, asks “Yeah?”
“I just realized; I don’t know your name.”
He grins before answering, “I'm Xavier."
"Nice to meet you, Xavier. My name is Malynda."
Five
Her
Present Day
"'Xavier? I'd like you to meet Isabella.” Jade turns to me and gestures to the man in front of me, who is so handsome, I turn giddy from breathlessness. But it’s not his angled jaw that has me dizzy. It’s his eyes. Those shocking green eyes. Eyes I haven’t seen in twelve years.
