Telling the Two Apart

By two, the temperature had dipped slightly.

By three, it was freezing again, and thank the deities for coats and scarves. Shuddering, Nina and Gerard scooped up paper plates, plastic ware, and napkins. Leftovers went back into the wicker picnic basket.

Nina had hoped to take a walk down one of the Nature Center’s many winding trails. Clearly, it was now too cold to be outdoors for too long—unless, of course, one was prepared for snow. Instead, she decided to take a quick look at one of the Center’s other attributes: a thick forest.

The North Park Village Nature Center was a refuge of green for the working professionals of northwest Chicago. Forty-six acres was no tiny oasis in a city full of pavement and artificial lights. Lately it had been advertised in newspapers for its weekend events, touted as a place worth crossing the city for, even though traffic rarely permitted such. Chicago couldn’t see this turning into a serial killer’s playground or a makeout spot for syringe-scarred teens. Chicago wouldn’t permit it.

“Let’s just see if we can find any animals,” Nina breathed, free from the sounds of cars and unfriendly shouts.

“You know, we won’t see anything. They’ll run away.” Gerard let Nina grab his hand, their gloves slipping apart, leaving only three fingers in her grasp as she tugged him.

Even though the day was again shrouded in color-stealing overcast, the long grass and tall trees seemed vibrant. This trail, thin and paved, was lined with clumsy wooden fences. They proved to be more stable than expected when they reached a spot, five minutes into the trees, where Gerard could lean. “Here?”

“Here’s good,” confirmed Nina, eyes raised upward.

“Good thing; we’re probably in another state by now.”

She rewarded his efforts at sarcasm with an upward twitch of the left side of her mouth, gaze still trained at the treetops. Gerard looked up, too, squinting at the bright gray of the sky. The sun was behind there somewhere, rays struggling to beam through exhaust and rain yet to fall.

An eagle was perched on a thick top branch, wings settling to its sides. It shifted its clawlike feet as Gerard swallowed. “I love eagles,” he said, voice soft.

“Me too. They’re really…”

“…Big,” Gerard finished, and they giggled.

Nina leaned next to him on the fence, arms crossed, scarf dangling. “Mikey’s a nice guy,” she said, briefly looking away from the eagle to Gerard.

“He’s cool,” Gerard agreed.

“Sort of introverted.”

“You know, it’s funny. People used to tell me I was an introvert. I never thought so.” He scratched his chin, then tucking his cold fingers back into the crooks of his arms. The denim jacket did not give them the heat they desired. “I don’t know. Maybe I am—people come up with the most unexpected psychobabble sometimes.”

“Oh really?” Nina sniffed, laughing. “Was it Kelly that told you that or something?”

“No, actually.” He was thoughtful. “I should ask her.” On second thought, he shook his head. “No. I don’t want her professional opinion of me even though I know she’s probably analyzing me all the time.”

“Isn’t that something you’re not supposed to do as a shrink?”

“What? Analyze friends and family?”

“I don’t know. Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t think there’s a law against it. I don’t even think there’s a Code of Conduct for it.”

“Oh, shut up.”

They fell back into silence, settling back against the fence. The eagle, finished with its observation of the area, spread its wings and glided away above the dead branches. A breeze, unwelcome, wove its way through the alley created by the paved path. Nina shuddered.

“Everyone has an opinion, though, so it’s not their fault.” Gerard moved his hands down to his jacket pockets.

“Who?”

“Shrinks. It isn’t their fault. They just know more about how to form an opinion, I guess.”

They pondered this.

“What’s your opinion?” Nina asked.

Gerard looked at her, quickly looked back up to the sky, brow furrowed. “Well, quite frankly, my opinion is that Chicago needs to think of some way to heat the outdoors, because my hands are blocks of ice.”

Nina laughed, prompting Gerard to grin sideways in her direction. “Really, you know what I mean,” Nina tried again. “Me. Your opinion of me. Play Kelly for a minute.”

“God! No. You first.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not, pray tell?”

“I don’t know any shrinks.”

Gerard gave her a shove, both of them laughing, Nina reddening. “You don’t have to! And anyway, you know Kelly now. No excuses. If you do I’ll do it. Come on.” Gerard fell back into seriousness, looking Nina in the eye. He held her shoulders, boldly waiting for his analysis. “Tell me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Go.”

“Just stop! I’m thinking.”

“You’re going to lie.”

“You’re outgoing. Obviously. Not only has Kelly told me that—I can see it for myself. You’re pretty upbeat but I’m sure you have your messed up days. I mean, everyone has days where they’re kind of…off.” She offered him an unsure look. “I think you’re swell.”

“Swell.”

“Well…yeah. You know, I really like you a lot.”

Gerard’s eyes softened and he smiled. “Fair enough.”

Nina broke away from him, turning away, preparing for the worst. “Your turn,” she said over her shoulder. “You can’t lie.”

Gerard studied the grass some ten feet away, shuffled his feet. He pulled his hands from his pockets to lean next to Nina on the fence. “Um…well,” he began. “Uh…you’ve lost a lot in your life, but you kinda still have a lot going for you. You’ve got a place to live and money coming at you. But you don’t have many friends.”

He gauged her reaction, saw none, saw her eyelashes move up.

“I hope that changes. I don’t have many friends here either, so it’s good that I have you. You know, that we have each other.” A swallow. “I think you’re swell, too. Really swell.”

When she turned around, she was smirking. “And what would you mean by that?”

He shrugged, looked sideways, looked back.

“You really should follow Kelly’s footsteps as a therapist.”

“Funny,” he said softly, rolling his eyes. He took an over-dramatic step towards her, and she looked surprised.

“I really like you a lot,” he told her.

“Copycat.”

“No,” he replied, pulling her close, slowly, feeling a powerful pull on his heart.

Her eyes darted to his and she blinked. “I like you more,” he whispered with a giggle.

“Not possible.” She was laughing too, her smile growing.

He kissed her. She jumped at first, and Gerard was waiting for her to pull away, to somehow think that it wasn’t going to come to this even after he’d pulled her near by the small of her back. But she didn’t pull away, and the warmth of their mouths mixed, no longer escaping as steam into the crisp air. Plump skin on skin, mere seconds that lasted hours.

When they pulled apart, he was holding her gently by her arms.

“God,” she said. Gerard said nothing, just swallowing and letting out a nervous laugh.

“Don’t,” she told him, and he looked at her, seeing the world as she stepped back into his arms.