by Matthew Fish
As they parked by a nearby vacant playground, Andrew remembered the sketchbook lying upon his lap. He handed it over to Emily, who gave a puzzled look.
“What is this?”
“A present,” Andrew replied as he opened up the first page and revealed a drawing that he had done of Emily while he waited for her.
“That’s…,” Emily whispered as she took the book and looked at the picture, her eyes darting back and forth over the image of herself— or rather the image that Andrew perceived her as being. “That is beautiful…I’ve never seen anything drawn so well. You did this just from memory?”
“Yeah,” Andrew answered. “I didn’t know if you liked to draw or not, but I thought it would be a pretty all right gift. I drew a few pictures. They’re of you…obviously…I just….”
“Thank you,” Emily said as she reached over and awkwardly attempted to hug Andrew. Andrew undid his safety belt and embraced Emily. He felt himself growing strangely anxious and awkward once more—yet there was something else, something stronger inside of him as well; he felt a sense of comfort, calmness like the sea on a perfect day. It was not as though this was their first real date, but that they had known each other for years. In another life, perhaps….
“I’m glad that you like it,” Andrew said as they broke their hug.
“I cannot draw worth a shit.” Emily laughed as she wiped away a tear from her eye. “But what you have done in here really…really means a lot to me. You’re really good.”
“It’s my hobby,” Andrew said as he smiled. “My parents don’t care much for it. Well, they just see it as a hobby. I would like to do it for a living but they don’t really approve. They keep bringing up the starving-artist saying.”
“I think if it’s something you truly enjoy doing then you should go for it,” Emily said as she thumbed through the pages and looked at the few pictures that Andrew had drawn for her.
“We’re a military family; all the way back to my great-grandparents—it’s what we mainly go into. However, I don’t feel like it’s something I can do,” Andrew said as he watched with great interest as Emily reacted with flashes of smiles and elation at each drawing.
“Then don’t do it,” Emily said as she looked over to Andrew.
Andrew looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Those piercing eyes were almost too much for him, they contained so much beauty that he could not bear to look upon them.
“Seriously,” Emily said as she placed a hand to Andrew’s shoulder. “Never do anything you do not want to do; you’ll just regret it later. Talent like this shouldn’t go wasted.”
“Thank you,” Andrew said as he let her words sink in. He had never really had someone be so unselfishly kind toward his art and so supportive of his idea to not follow in the footsteps that lay before him. It was kind of strange, the idea that he could do whatever he wanted.
“Is this what you want to do when you’re older?” Emily asked as she kept her eyes upon Andrew and placed his hand in hers.
“I think so,” Andrew whispered in reply. “It’s been a dream of mine since I was a kid.”
“Then do it,” Emily said as she smiled reassuringly. “However, first—before you go off and do all of that, let’s have something to eat and then play on that awesome motherfucking playground. Are you seeing those swings? Those swings are some serious shit. That slide—that is the crack cocaine of slides. You go down that thing once and you’re hooked and in the gutter in a few weeks.”
Andrew laughed as he shook his head. “Thank you again.”
“For what?”
“For making me laugh,” Andrew adds, “It’s not something that I’m used to.”
Emily unlocked the keys to the trunk of her car, producing a large picnic basket. She carried it to a small picnic table that sat slightly sideways on the side of a hill. Emily unwrapped the plastic from two chicken salad sandwiches and placed them upon the table, and then laid out a large apple pie and two cans of coke.
“I baked this,” Emily said as she flourished a hand over the pie as though it was a prize that she was displaying on a television game show. “It’s what I like to do. It took a bit longer than I expected, so that’s why I was kind of late today.”
“You did all this for me?” Andrew asked as he sat down on the table, careful to avoid a small spat of bird droppings.
“Made you lunch?”
“No one has ever done anything this nice for me,” Andrew said as he nodded, and then felt suddenly saddened at the thought and accidentally allowed it to show upon his face which tensed up in an unique moment of seriousness.
“You’ve dated before right?” Emily asked as she cocked her head to the side quizzically.
“Yeah, a few times,” Andrew answered.
“Not very nice people, then,” Emily said as she cut into the pie with a plastic knife, a feat she was finding a bit trickier than she had expected. She plopped down a large slice before Andrew and sat with her hands folded beneath her chin as though awaiting a verdict.
“It’s great—excellent!” Andrew said, chewing down a bite.
“Thank you, sir.” Emily nodded as she took own piece. “I had to make sure that you didn’t die first. Thank you for being my poison tester. It’s not a luxurious job, I know, but I feel that you make a great candidate.”
Andrew stifled a choke as he began to laugh.
“Oh! Perhaps the poison was just slow acting.” Emily laughed as she feigned choking. “I knew I couldn’t trust the people. My disloyal citizens…gasp! Their queen…is dead, at last....”
“I’ve failed you and I’ve been on the job but only a few minutes,” Andrew said as he reached a hand out toward Emily. “A plague upon all of their houses and shanties, and shacks, and cave dwellings….”
“Most importantly their cave dwellings,” Emily added as she laughed with a big smile. “So…these relationships you mentioned in your past. What the hell? No apple pies or plastic-wrapped chicken salad sandwiches on fancy crusty bread?”
“No, unfortunately—I think that they had this idea of who I should be in their head: you know their ideal boyfriend and they tried to fit me into that mold. Like, if I would joke about something they would say “Be serious”, or… well…I can be serious. I just enjoy the pranks and the immature life, full of dick and fart jokes.”
“So inappreciative!” Emily shouted as she playfully banged her fists against the picnic table, causing her fork to launch off into the grass. “Oh, shit…nope it’s all good; I brought an extra one. That’s me. Always thinking…. Anyway, if people cannot appreciate the humor in life then they aren’t worth your time. You should never have to change who you are. You should never have to be someone else just to fit into their ideal…. Whatever…never change, let people appreciate you for who you are.”
“I didn’t think that anyone would ever be accepting of it,” Andrew said as he nodded. It was slowly beginning to sink in that Emily Jones was more than just beautiful. She was so much more.
“I am,” Emily said, recreating Andrew’s slow nod in harmless mockery. “I like you just the way you are.”
“Thank you,” was all Andrew could say.
After eating they played upon the swings. Andrew pushed Emily while she attempted to launch herself carelessly from the swing at inopportune moments right before he was about to give her a boost. This action usually resulted with her falling to the ground in fits of laughter. They played on the slide, taking turns, attempting to run down without suffering any serious injury and, to their luck, that day no such injury was sustained. They laughed like children do, but flirted and allowed their hands to come into contact as often as they possibly could like new lovers. As the sun began to set beneath the tree line Emily and Andrew embraced and kissed for the first time.
“Would you like to go somewhere else with me?” Emily asked as she held Andrew in her arms.
“Anywhere.”
The couple got back into the car after Emily packed away t
he picnic basket and placed it back in her trunk. They drove out farther off into the distant countryside. Soon the trees gave way to tall fields of prairie grass. Emily pulled the car over to the side of the road just as the sun had set and the air was filled with the dim magical glow of the final light of day.
“Sit by me,” Emily said as she got out of the car and hopped up onto the hood.
Andrew hesitated for a moment, not wanting to damage the car.
“Don’t worry about the car,” Emily added. “It’s just a thing.”
Andrew slid up the hood of the yellow Ford. Emily reached her hand over and placed it into his. A slight chill had crept into the air, but neither of them cared. They were both content. As the pair sat, the light disappearing from the sky, fireflies began to emerge in the field before them. At first just a few flashes here and there—soon came hundreds.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Emily asked as she squeezed Andrew’s hand.
“It is.”
“I moved here from California last year right near the beginning of spring. There are no fireflies out there, not past the Rockies, I believe. Anyway, I remember sitting here by myself last year, coming out every Saturday until it was time, just waiting for fireflies because I had never seen them before. There is just something magical about it…it made me feel that childlike feeling you get as a kid on Christmas morning the first time they appeared. Then, when they were out like they are now, I just…I just felt that there was so much more to the world and it was a beautiful place after all,” Emily said quietly as she held on to Andrew.
“I grew up here and I suppose I’d taken it for granted,” Andrew said as he pulled Emily closer. “Thank you for showing me them again…. Thank you for reminding me.”
“Do you like me?” Emily asked, sounding a little worried. “Today, you’ve seen pretty much well…me. I know I’m weird. I’ve been told that a lot.”
“If you would have told me that I’d be here with someone like you on Thursday I would have never believed it. You are so beautiful and kind that I have no idea what you even see in me, honestly.”
“Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there,” Emily added as she kissed Andrew on the cheek.
“To answer your question in all honesty: yes,” Andrew said as he looked into Emily’s faint eyes in the dim gray evening. “I think you are beautiful and nice. You are something so much more, something so much more because of who you really are on the inside. You are beautiful inside and out.”
“You just earned yourself another kiss,” Emily said as she drew Andrew in and kissed him upon the lips as the fireflies flashed and displayed their pale green show all around the two of them.
The sound of a chime from the floor awakens Andrew from his reverie. He quickly remembers his cell phone and retrieves it from the floor. A single message flashes upon the screen. With shaking hands he opens it. It is from Anna. Andrew’s heart beats in his chest as he waits for the message to open. “Andy, maybe we should talk, I might be around your place at noon.”
The thought that Anna might be on her way here sends Andrew back into a state of happiness. He looks at the old antique clicking clock upon the wall: it is still only ten in the morning. He rushes to the bathroom and gives himself a look over in the mirror. He looks exhausted, terrible even. He wonders if this will be in his favor, or to his detriment. He reaches into the medicine cabinet and takes a Xanax for his anxiety. There are not many pills left so he has been saving them for his worst attacks. He swallows the single two milligram pill without any water and quickly rushes to the kitchen and begins to clean the mess that has accumulated over the past two weeks. As he begins to put away some hastily washed dishes he wonders if it has truly been that long since he has left the apartment—nearly a month already?
Andrew contemplates taking a short nap, but thinks better of it. He does not want to miss Anna if she comes, so he decides the best course of action is to stay away. He begins to fidget, as most of the housework is done, but feels the strange calmness of medication wash over him and comfort him.
The clock ticks away the seconds slowly as eleven-fifteen approaches. Andrew sits down at the drawing desk in the corner of his room. He thumbs through an old sketchbook and finds a drawing of Anna—she is smiling at him. There is something familiar about the smile and eyes. It is just a simple drawing of her seated at the dining room table, a glass of wine in her hand. Her curly light brown hair covers one of her green eyes and her leg is folded and covered beneath the black evening dress. She has a hand out as though she does not want to be drawn, yet the smile says otherwise. Andrew remembers the moment fondly. It was evening and he had prepared dinner for her—one of their first “dates” nearly three years ago.
Andrew flips the page as the thought of the memory makes him sad once more. He begins to sketch out a landscape, something he has not done in months. He begins with a road, and then some tall grass beyond it and some trees in the far distance. He begins the intricate shading and detail as time passes by. He looks up at the clock and noon has come and gone.
Andrew gets up from his desk and nervously paces around the apartment like a caged leopard at the zoo. He walks over to his computer and switches on his playlist for his art and laughs in both amusement and frustration as the first song “Watching, Waiting” by Todd Carey comes over the speakers. Over the course of the song the singer sings of waiting desperately for the one that you love, waiting for that one you’ve wronged—wondering if they will show, wondering if there is anything that can be done. The song is just an ironic coincidence that fits the situation so well and reminds Andrew of Anna even more. One of their first trips was the short drive to the Hitching Post in Door County to catch a Fourth of July show of his. They had a great evening as Todd Carey played late into the night and then they returned to their hotel room, happy, contented. Or at least Andrew had thought so.
Perhaps that was the problem; he never thought that there was any chance that they would not be together. Everything seemed like it was a perfect fit. They were so similar with their issues and personalities that it just seemed like it was something that time would fix. Yet, he supposed that time was not the greatest glue when it came to fixing broken things such as human relationships.
Late afternoon comes swiftly as Andrew sits at his computer, listening to his playlist. As Rachael Yamagata’s “I Wish You Love” plays, followed by her wonderfully sad and beautiful “Sunday Afternoon”, Andrew begins to wonder why the sad songs make him feel so good about the situation when logic dictates that it should have only the opposite effect. Perhaps it is a product of depression that has caused him to remove any song that has any semblance of happiness and continues on only with those that make him feel worse, but better in the same strange way.
Andrew picks up his cell phone and calls Anna’s number. It rings twice and goes directly to her voicemail; he leaves a message: “Hey…Anna. It’s me, Andy…I was just checking to see if you were coming today or not. If you could let me know…, a text is fine—I know you hate phone calls. I just wanted to add that…. I’m sorry. Sorry for everything. I would really like to talk to you if you could find it in yourself to do so. Take care and I hope to hear from you soon….”
Satisfied with his message, Andrew places the phone on the bed. He lies down next to it, staring at it as though awaiting some form of reply, however, no matter how long he waits, the phone has nothing to add. Iron and Wine’s “The Trapeze Swinger” begins to play over his computer speakers, expressing a wish to be remembered happily, and Andrew finally drifts off to sleep.
The first time Andrew saw Anna it was on a morning public bus on his way to a job he had acquired working maintenance at a cemetery just at the edge of town. He remembered standing in his dirty jeans, white shirt, and his black, dirt-stained hooded jacket with one hand holding on to a pole as the bus bumped him about. He hated taking public transportation; being around so many people made him feel anxious, nervous—however
, he refused to drive, and had sold his car just before his senior year in high school.
As the bus stopped approximately nine blocks away from his apartment, a girl entered through the pneumatic doors. Her hair was long and bouncily curly, she had a red flower hairpin pulling a long strand to the side of her face and framing her somehow familiar features. She had green eyes, strikingly, familiar green. She wore a long dress with nondescript flowers of the same matching red that trailed down from her top down to the hem of her dress. She wore heavy fur topped-brown boots that matched her small jacket that she carried beneath her arm.
Andrew watched her, feeling somewhat stalkerish and awkward; however he could not take his eyes off of her. There was something familiar about her face, her lips and smile. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of black glasses and began to read Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, a book that Andrew had enjoyed and read many times as a teen. He wanted to say something, to make contact. However, he considered how he was dressed, how disheveled he looked at the moment, and thought better of it; after all, a girl like that would probably be spooked by Andrew’s unexpected company, rather than in any mood to discuss their common appreciation for Harper Lee’s classic.
Their eyes met for a moment and Andrew quickly looked away, instead he watched the autumn trees as they passed by outside the large bus windows. The bus rounded a corner and the sun shone in brightly as it emerged from the line of tall buildings in the distance. Andrew shielded his eyes with his hand and turned away to face the familiar girl. She smiled as she looked up from her book.
Surely she is not smiling at me…, Andrew thought to himself as he looked away once more and focused his attention on the silver crisscrossed floor beneath his dirty, formerly white sneakers. The bus made four more stops before the girl rose from her seat and got off. Andrew looked out the window as the girl looked back to him momentarily as she walked down sidewalk which was stained a bright and brilliant orange in the morning sun.
