Kaleidoscope (8 page)

“A boy, I see,” she said, drawing out the last word in a dramatic fashion. “Well, I'm delighted to meet him, hon. I'll be home at the usual time...pick whatever you'd like to start for dinner!”

As I programmed the microwave to defrost the meat, all the while glancing at the stove clock, my heart raced a little faster. With each passing minute, I became more and more nervous.
Why hasn't he called yet?
I wondered. It was 5:16...I should have heard from him by now. I pulled out my phone and checked it, just in case by some miracle it had rung unnoticed. There was nothing there except for the on-screen clock, ticking now to 5:17pm as I looked at it, as if to taunt me.

Maybe he isn't coming,
I thought briefly. It was possible; after all, we didn't know each other very well. He had a job to attend to, like a real adult who had things together instead of living in a muddled haze like I did. I knew for certain he had a family of his own—two sisters and an oddly matched set of estranged parental figures—and I'm sure that with his charming personality and authentic kindness, he had a wonderful group of friends already. Friends that were probably far more mature and put together than myself. What did he need me for anyway?

Suddenly, I heard a resounding knock at the door: three tiny raps against the hollow wooden structure, made by a hand rather than with the brass knocker.

“Trick or treaters already? It's not even dark yet!” I grumbled, whisking the basket of candy on the table into my arms and rushing towards the door. “I get that winter came early and it's a little chilly out, but come on...”

I opened the door, averting my eyes downwards to meet the legion of miniature snack hoarders that was sure to be the first of many to come that evening.

              “Trick or treat! Here's--” I halted at once. “Oh, you're not a trick or treater.”

My eyes scanned ahead of me over a long pair of legs covered in black denim. Further up, there was a black zip-up sweater left open to reveal an olive green t-shirt, matching perfectly with the set of eyes that stared back, scanning me as well.

“Hey! I'm so glad I got the right house...I'm really sorry I didn't call first, I had to stay at work for a few and didn't want to be late here. Rude, I know. I apologize.”

Austin's had slicked back his dark hair a little bit today, as if extra time was taken to gain control over it.
Probably from going to work or something, but it's a nice touch
, I thought.

I smiled. “No, no it's fine...I was a little worried you'd changed your mind, but I'm glad you found the place alright. Come on in, we're letting all the warm air out!” I stepped aside, placing the bowl of candy on our small entryway table as I did so. I followed him inside, closing the door behind us.

CHAPTER NINE

“Oh come on, you've got to think more of me than that! I wouldn't just no-show to a social event, especially one that was my own idea,” Austin said matter-of-factly. He ambled through the entryway into the middle of a space marking the area where the various areas of the house intersected.

“Of course I do, I was just testing you,” I lied, hoping my joking skills weren't too unpracticed to still work. I shuffled my feet a bit, feeling relieved that, so far, the setting didn't seem to change our friendly banter. He was still the same person from my painting class, and it put me more at ease. “Would you like a tour?”

“But of course. Lead the way madam,” he replied, gesturing forward with one hand and placing the other behind his back in a mock bow. I crinkled my nose at him, suppressing a laugh, and pointed us to our left.

“Well, this is the living room,” I said, making a sweeping gesture towards it. I pointed to the hallway that ran ahead of us on the backside of the living room. “That's my mom's bedroom and bathroom, but uh...yeah. Nothing to see there. It's like a forbidden cave of solitude.”

I turned, preparing to slink along a few steps behind me to the dining room, but Austin didn't follow me. Instead, he strode into the living room, gazing around and taking it all in. His eyes settled on  the framed pictures on the far wall; he inspected them almost like a detective, placing a finger to his chin and pondering their subjects.

“Is this one you as a kid?” he asked, turning to face me as he pointed to one of the smaller images.

I grimaced with humiliation. “Er, yes. Probably. But uh, you can dissect my childhood later on. Let's move along, shall we?”

“I'll hold you to that, Jade.” He flashed a white smile at me. I smiled faintly back, ignoring his remark, and introduced him to the dining room and kitchen area.

“And these are obviously stairs,” I said with sarcasm, indicating the staircase, one side of which looked into the dining room until it disappeared into the next floor, while the other backed against the wall.. “The bathroom is up that way if you need, first door on your left.”

“What else is up there?”

“Well, there's a storage room up there since this house is smaller than the one where we used to live, and then my room is up there too.”

“Oh cool! Am I allowed to see?” Austin's eyes sparkled with intrigue. I myself wavered at the request, uncertain as to both his request and my apparent reluctance. What was I so afraid of--that he would discover there was something truly off about me just by looking around my room, and that he would flee before he got too deep into my puddle of craziness? Of course, that was exactly what I was afraid of. Somewhere in my head, I knew this was irrational and at least somewhat unlikely, but the fear buzzed around my brain like a fevered wasp seeking escape.

“I...well, I mean. I guess so...you seem pretty interested, so let's...head on up?”

“Well of course I'm interested,” he said, following me as I made to climb the staircase. “Someone's personal living space is what says the most about them. I want to see where the magic all happens!”

“I don't know about any magic,” I murmured helplessly. “Oh, watch out for this next stair...we call it squeaky number--”

I was interrupted by a loud, groaning squeal that stopped us both in our tracks. “--number six. It's extremely loud and off-putting, as you can see, but not dangerous. At least that we know of.”

“Oh, that's comforting,” he remarked, stepping on the edge of the stair and sneaking along the remaining steps.

“Okay, so this is it,” I said, opening the plain white door. I felt an overwhelming urge to explain away any imperfections he might see, as if my room were ever any better-looking than it was right now. “So, I didn't expect company up here and my bed isn't made. Also I'm not the best at putting my clothes in the dirty laundry, and I'm probably not a master interior decorator...”

My excuses and justifications faded as I realized that Austin was no longer listening. Instead, he observed various things with earnest intent, scanning over my bed and my now somewhat embarrassing childlike comforter set. He looked over various books on the shelves built into the bottom of my matching nightstands on either side of my bed, and over the window and the sill that held my prized gnome figurine. He turned, looking briefly at my open closet and the chaotic disarray of clothing within it, and then gave his attention to my desk, the few pictures that hung on the wall over it, and my painting that displayed itself from upon its surface.

Austin glided over to it. “Wow, is this some of your work?”

I nodded as he examined it, a small smile crossing over his face and igniting his features with a glowing warmth that radiated across the entire room. “This is great! I love the symbolism here...the bench is surrounded by all of this beauty, but it looks so lonely.” He glanced at me, almost daring me with his eyes to convince him the bench wasn't a personification of myself.

“I knew you'd get it,” I responded with instead, smiling at the floor. “You really think it's good?”

“I'd hang it on my wall, for sure. The details are really nice too...wow. I can't wait to see what your project looks like when we finish next week!”

On the first day of my painting class, about halfway through, Austin occupied the seat across from me at the lonely table closest to the door, and he'd stayed there again through the entire class yesterday, talking with me as we painted after we exchanged phone numbers. However, our canvasses were back to back, and I refused to let him, or anyone else really, see or comment on my work in progress until it was in good enough shape. I hate feeling like people are judging my creative process. I want them to judge the final work, not how I got there.

As a result, this small landscape painting was the first of my art that Austin had actually seen. I was pleased that he liked it, beaming inside with pride that I could create something enjoyable.

“Oh...well, thanks,” I responded in earnest. “Yours is already looking great. I'd love to see some of your other pieces sometime.”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to arrange a second date?” he teased. Though I knew he was joking, I couldn't help but feel both apprehensive and excited at his choice of words. He'd said a “second date.”
Why was I feeling like this?

Austin sat down on my bed and I moved to join him. “I spend the majority of my time in my room,” he commented, still looking around thoughtfully. “My oldest sister has been out of the house for years, but me and Lisa—the younger of the two—aren't quite there yet. Technically we're adults...she has another year to go before she turns eighteen, but we're adults. And I can at least say it's true for myself that I need my own space. Siblings...sometimes you just can't stand to be around each other.”

“Oh, I wouldn't know,” I said.

“That's right, you're an only child,” he exclaimed. “Well, count yourself lucky. It's like an estrogen ocean in my house, being the only guy. And I'm the youngest! Maybe if I had a little brother or something, it might be different.” Austin sighed and focused his gaze on me. “Do you ever wish you had siblings?”

I leaned back on the palms of my hands, which sunk into a ball of haphazardly placed blanket. “Oh, I don't know...I mean I don't really have anything to compare it to. It's just been me and Mom since I can remember, so I guess it might have been nice to grow up with someone else close to my age. I always imagine siblings sharing everything with each other, being each other's best friends...you know.”

“Not completely so...when you're younger, yeah, but when you both go to the same high school, things can get...tense.” Austin smiled, but behind it lingered something else, perhaps frustration.

“I could see that,” I mused. “But I bet if I had a sibling, it would make it easier to...”

I faded off as anxiety seized my tongue. I hoped not to be too obvious in my sudden urge to flee the room as I swallowed the feeling back. “...to remember things from your childhood.”

I hope I didn't say too much or sound too stupid,
I thought. Anger stemmed inside of me. I was angry at myself and my inability to handle simple social situations, like this one, with someone I enjoyed talking to. I hated agonizing about every word I said and every action I made, hoping not to expose the flawed pieces that were an unwelcome part of me. I hated every gut-wrenching stab of anxiety, every shortened, inhaled breath as I grasped for solid ground again. I  hated it all.

And yet, the conversation went on as normal while I wrestled with my inner demons that remained, for now, invisible.

“That's true,” Austin replied matter-of-factly. “I don't have the best memory, so I rely a lot on stories that I'm told by people who were there too. When they tell me, I can usually remember, but on my own I can be pretty useless in that department.”

“Yeah...me too...”

The handsome boy beside me looked outside the window before his eyes fixed on an item that made my heart stop.

“What's this? Don't tell me you're a writer too!” He motioned towards the leather-bound journal that, in my whirlwind planning, I'd forgotten to stow away. It sat in plain view on my nightstand, where it always resided.

I lurched forward. “No!”

I reached for his arm with a firm but gentle grasp. Stopped briefly by the warmth of his skin radiating through his sweater, I hoped I hadn't broken some kind of boundary rule. But this was more important, and I didn't care at that moment.

Austin looked down at my hand as it gripped his arm and slowly moved it away. He looked concerned more than frightened at my reaction, almost as if he were afraid he'd broken a rule, too.

“I'm sorry, it's just...it's very personal,” I lamented, slowly releasing my hand and bringing it back into my lap. My mind was racing a million miles a minute as I tried my best to read his reactions to my outburst.

“No, I'm sorry, I didn't know.” There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever. “I mean, I should have figured it was probably a diary of some kind. My sisters used to go nuts over that kind of thing when I was younger. It was actually pretty fun to mess with them about it.” He grinned.

“It...it's fine. I just hope I didn't...scare you off or anything.”

His captivating green eyes fixed on my own, looking serious. “Jade, it takes a lot more than that to scare me. I grew up in St. Louis.” He winked. “I just hope there's nothing bad about me in there!”

I looked down and smiled. Was that a glimmer of hope in those eyes, something that wanted me to think about him enough to write in a secret, heartfelt diary? Perhaps I was imagining it.

“No, no, nothing like that. It's uh...well, just some memory exercises I'm working on. They're very private to me.” It's about as honest as things were going to get, for now at least. I raised my eyebrow at him, scanning his well-structured face for any signs of judgement. There were none to be seen.

“Memory exercises...sounds vague and interesting.”

Austin sidled a little closer to me. His hand was close to my own, so close in fact that I could feel its heat on my fingertips. The feeling made me uncomfortable, but at the same time, it was refreshing and heightening in a way I don't recall ever feeling. His tan features were cloaked in a kind of gentle seriousness as he looked at me. I gave him my full attention, mesmerized by his gaze.

“Hey, I want to tell you something,” he began. “I didn't always used to be as open as I am now...it took a lot of life experience to let myself be confident enough in who I am to not care so much what other people thought. The truth is, I used to care a lot. I've been knocked down my fair share of times, and for a while it made it really hard for me to trust people.”

I could feel my eyes darken with suspicion for a moment before I pushed it away.

“You seem to be a really interesting person Jade, but I wonder about you sometimes.”

I hesitated. “You wonder about me?”

“Well yeah...I mean, you're pretty quiet most of the time. You're kind of guarded.”

I withered into a slump.

“And I get that completely,” Austin went on, sensing my defeat. He looked down and ran his fingers over his slicked-back hair. “It's not my place to ask why, but I just wanted to say that I hope one of these days, I can earn your trust. I won't push it or anything, I just wanted to let you know. I see a good friend in you.”

My face softened, and I looked away again. I felt ashamed. I felt an inexorable amount of self-loathing—this boy was one of very few friends I'd made over the past several years. He was so kind, and understanding, and his presence was a beautiful wave of calm that collapsed the calamity in my head when I spoke with him. And yet, here I was, so distrustful of him and his intentions that he caught on enough to actually say something to me about it. Why, why did I have to be like this? Somewhere inside of me, I felt enough crushing anguish to knock over a brick wall.

But instead of experiencing it, the soothing numbness of my apathy bathed it in ice, stifling the pain that I would otherwise have to face, but leaving behind the disgust and anger with myself that took over my mind and body like a wildfire. I felt as though I was outside of my body watching it ignite from the inside, waiting for the dangerous backdraft that would pull me away for good.