Quiet Boys.

The art classes are only once a week.
Which makes me upset, in general, because I really really really like going to those art classes.
I like splattering paint and letting out energy and just breathing in the smell of those creative minds surrounding me.
But this week was particularly bad because I wanted to see awkward Ivan.
That was a little name I’d decided to make up for him; Awkward Ivan.
I loved that he was awkward.
It was like he was naked and bare.
He didn’t have something to hide.
He was simple.
Simple things are always nice. The simple pleasures are what counts, most of the time.
His rainy voice made my heart go pitter-patter.
My heart only pitter-pattered when I was scared, or when I was about to ride a big roller coaster. Or when I need to relax and drink air.
So, the week dragged out.
I tried to make it extra fun, because we all know that time flies when you’re having fun. I talked to friends more than usual, I even invited my friend Allison over on the weekend.
Which, actually was fun. We took lots of pictures and baked lots of cookies.
Allison is a very pretty girl.
Hazel eyes, they’re like when you see a really nice tree in a forest, and all the other trees around that special tree just don’t have that ‘it’ factor.
Her hair went nicely with her eyes. Curly, her hair stuck out in all directions, but you know, somehow it looked nice on her. It was that honey color brown, the kind of brown that all brunettes have wanted at some point. Then her smile is the best. Her teeth aren’t perfectly straight or anything, but she doesn’t need that. It’s just that every time she smiles, because she’s so happy, her smile hits her eyes, so her whole face smiles, not just her mouth. And then you smile because she’s so pretty when she smiles.
Allison isn’t actually just my friend, she’s my best friend.
I didn’t introduce her the last time we talked because, well, to be honest I was all caught up in Awkward Ivan. And his green grandfather sweater.
However, though Allison and I had a very nice weekend together, that went by too fast and it was over and time dragged again.
I told her about Awkward Ivan though. She said he sounded very nice, really one of those adorable, precious boys. I think she was excited because we don’t know too many nice, precious boys. We only know the really loud kind. Which is okay, loud is good sometimes. But we tire of those kind.
I told her if I could, I’d get her to meet him.
I’m not really afraid she’ll like him and he’ll like her.
Other girls would probably be afraid of something like that, but I love Allison.
So, if something were to happen with them, I’d be nothing but happy.
She deserves happiness just as much as anyone.

________

Finally Tuesday again, the day of luxurious art supplies smells, the day of a wooden paintbrush in my hand.
And sure, yeah, I really do want to see Ivan.
And sure enough he was sitting there, with charcoal, and apple core.
But something was off.
The sunny yellow wasn’t yellow in his eyes anymore. They weren’t quite working as well with the robin eggshell blue as they had been last Tuesday.
I sat down with my paint, and just asked.
“Ivan, what’s wrong with your eyes?”
He looked at me, puzzled. Very, very puzzled.
“Nothing, I have twenty-twenty vision.” Rainy day voice, yes, speak more.
“No, I mean. Something wrong?”
“I guess, but I don’t want to bug you with it,” he mumbled into his fist, and his face flushed madly.
“Well, you gotta tell someone, don’t you?” I asked dignifiedly, sniffing a bit, clutching my paintbrush.
“Yeah, well. Do you really want to know? I doubt it.”
“But Ivan, I really do want to know.”
He looked at his drawing nervously, moving his charcoal between apprehensive fingers.
“My parents are getting divorced,” he said very quietly. Time stopped for him when he said it. The sunny yellow was dulling even more. I pursed my lips.
“It’s alright. Mine are divorced. I live with my dad. I promise it’ll be fine.”
“Are they really? Since when?”
“I was ten. I was reading a book the day they told me, and I was so enticed in my book I barely cared. I just kept turning pages.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Oh, please don’t be. I would hate to think they would grow even older and then keep on pretending they wanted to be together. What a hollow life that would be. Maybe, possibly, you should be happy for your parents. They’re finally being honest. Everything is finally out.”
Awkward Ivan just stared ahead, at the wall of art supplies.
“You’re right Parker. Thank you.”
“There you go with thank you’s again.”
“Well, it’s polite.”
“You’re already very polite. No need to over do it,” I told him with a half smile. He gave me a watery grin in return and I saw him wipe his robin eggshell eyes.
“Ivan, if you need to talk to someone, I’d be happy to oblige.”
“That means a lot Parker.”
For the first time I wondered if he had too many friends. I went to the shelves with paintbrushes, and got a thinner one. I dipped it in black paint, then took his hand in mine.
His had was warm, and I had to press my lips together again to stop a smile from forming.
I painted my cell phone number on the side of hand, between his thumb and pointer finger. Then I blew cool air to dry the paint. I looked up at his face to see firework red cheeks. I gave him a full fledged smirk.
“You can call, or text. Whichever you prefer.”
Ivan bit down on his lip, then shook his head vigorously yes.