They Let Us Play With Markers, but I Keep Trying to Draw Infinity

“So you’re wanting to be a teacher.”

“Yes. And you an artist.

“If I can create anything worth selling. I haven’t had much luck lately.”

“I bet you will someday. Don’t even really famous artists have trouble selling their work? Maybe you should paint something really risqué, and then you’ll be banned from certain art galleries which will make everyone want your stuff.”

“Risqué,” Tristan laughed, “right. And what would that include?”

“Probably something extremely offensive and the exact opposite of politically correct. I’d ask Randy for ideas; she’s usually full of them.”

“I’m not exactly sure what to say to that.”

Tristan and I were really hitting it off so far. We had more things in common than I’d thought, and he never seemed to run out of questions or things to talk about. It was rather comforting because I knew that awkward silences would be completely nonexistent, and I wouldn’t have to be the one constantly trying to keep conversation going.

Every once in a while we’d stop to inquire about the score and cheer on the losing team, but most of the time we kept to ourselves. After a while we noticed that the commotion on the field had nearly stopped. I looked up in time to see Randy disappear behind a tree with her phone to her ear.

The rest of the players walked under the shelter house and took up space at the other picnic tables, chugging on their water bottles. Tristan began to introduce them, one by one, but there were so many new names that none of them really stuck.

“Why the break?” Tristan asked one of the guys who sat near us; I think his name was Mikey.

“The chick with the purple hair had to answer her damn phone. Where’d she go, anyway?”

“Behind a tree,” I said.

Chuck turned in her seat, just as confused as I was. Randy being secretive was something completely unheard of. Granted, we hadn’t known her that long so we couldn’t really judge how much she generally kept from people, but ducking behind trees to receive mysterious phone calls didn’t seem normal.

“Does this worry you any?” I asked Chuck, keeping my voice low so that Tristan or anyone else wouldn’t overhear.

“I don’t think it’s anything serious. Just ask her about it later.” Chuck’s face appeared confident but the doubt in her voice gave her away. I could only hope that, if it was something to worry about, Randy would eventually tell us.

“I’m fucking hungry, man,” Mikey said, rubbing his stomach with one hand and messing up his hair with the other.

Tristan turned to me with a mischievous smile. “Feel like getting something to eat?”

“Sure. We need to wait for Randy, though,” I added quickly, not wanting to leave her behind.

“Yo, Ran-dy!” Tristan shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice.

Her head popped around the tree, phone still to her ear.

“Food!” I shouted. She nodded her head, disappeared again for a moment then came walking toward us, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

“I want pizza!” Mikey yelled, thrusting his hand into the air. “I vote pizza.”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to disagree, Mike,” Tristan assured him, pulling his hand down. He turned to me. “Pizza sound good?”

“Sounds great,” I agreed.

I was excited that the day wasn’t going to end with Frisbee but with food. I really liked Tristan, and it pushed all thoughts of clandestine phone calls and pesky tests from my mind.

Tristan had driven his own car to the park so he followed us to Pizza Hut. When we all arrived, we were the only customers. It was possible that was because it was far too late for lunch and much too early for dinner, but it was more probable that no one ate at pizza places anymore; choosing, instead, the “finer” sit-down restaurants of Camden.

The point is that the place was practically deserted except for us which meant that we wouldn’t get kicked out so quickly for causing a ruckus.

All ten or so of us crammed into one of the only two large corner booths. I was surprised, and very happy, to find that neither Erik nor Audrey had felt it necessary to dine with us. I was also very happy to see that I had been situated between Randy and Tristan and almost directly across from Chuck, who was stuck between Mikey and Hunter; the rest of the nameless faces had filled up the rest of the booth.

We’d made quite a mess of paprika, parmesan, and discarded toppings when Randy stood up.

“Where are you going?” I asked. I expected the answer to be something along the lines of ‘bathroom’ or ‘jukebox,’ but the words that came out of her mouth completely dumbfounded me.

“Band thing.” She shrugged and walked towards the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“Buh—how are you getting there?”

She was out the door without an answer or explanation.

“I didn’t know Randy was in a band,” Tristan said.

“Neither did we.” I looked incredulously at Chuck who equally returned the expression. “Do you think that’s what the phone call was about?”

“Better that than what it could have been.”

“Undoubtedly, but when did she join a band?”

Chuck just shook her head. Simultaneously, we both pulled out our phones. I quickly dialed Randy’s number while Chuck speedily typed out a text. Her phone rang the standard number of times before it went to voicemail. After the unsuccessful first attempt, we switched, and I typed a text while Chuck called. We continued to switch back and forth until her phone didn’t even ring anymore but just went straight to voicemail.

I was nervous and excited for Randy. Her biggest goal, dream, what have you, was to be a musician; to write and make music, be her own boss and travel, and meet other hot musicians whom she could touch inappropriately.

Ever since she’d been forced to the Midwest, she had been brutally cut off from any and every source of good music. It was now almost impossible to attend shows as frequently as she used to because the only locations bands played were in the big cities on either side of the state. The biggest problems these cities posed were time, gas, and money, which was why she took a job at the local Starbucks.

When I could afford it, I’d go with her, helping to pay for tickets, gas, and snacks. Chuck would come on occasion, but her musical tastes differed quite a bit from mine and Randy’s which were fairly similar. But with Randy’s help, mine has slowly been expanding.

Aside from all of the basic questions – who, what, when, where, how, why – I really wanted to know what style of music this band played. Her tastes were so extensive it could have been damn near anything.

“Is that a bad thing?” Tristan asked.

“What?” I’d been so consumed by my thoughts that I hadn’t heard him.

“Is Randy being in a band a bad thing?”

“Oh, Lord no,” I objected. “It’s completely amazing and absolutely wonderful and utterly marvelous.” Tristan laughed. I noticed a small dimple appear on his cheek, and it distracted me from the euphoria of Randy’s news for a second. “It’s a very good thing. It’s just surprising because we, Chuck and I, had no idea. We still don’t really, but we’re too happy for her to be angry at her.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll kick her ass later.”

It was at that moment that I realized how close he and I were sitting to each other. We were half turned toward one another with one of Tristan’s arms resting on the back of the booth, the other on the table, and both of mine in my lap. All I had to do was extend a finger, and I’d be touching his knee cap. Oh, sweet knee caps.

The thought made me blush, and knowing that he could probably see it made me blush even more.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked. “Your face is kind of flushed.”

“I’m fine,” I said breathlessly, very embarrassed. “It’s just warm in here.”

I was barely able to stop myself from hitting my forehead, or as Randy says, ‘palmface.’ It’s not that knee caps are attractive – they’re knee caps – but being close enough to touch Tristan’s was enough to bring back the butterflies with full force. He also smelled super deliciously, and I had trouble keeping myself from leaning forward and taking a big whiff of him.

Oh, why were my friends too far away to help me?

“I gots shit I gotta do!” Mikey announced, raising his arms above his head and puffing his chest out in a huge stretch.

“That’s my cue.” Tristan gave me a wistful half smile then stood up. “So…” He looked around at his friends who were gathering their things then back down at me. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Okay. Good.” This time he flashed me a genuine smile. “This was a lot of fun. We should do it again, but… with less people.”

“Yeah.” It’s harder to force yourself to breathe than you think.

“See you Monday.”