Glitter in the Snow

Once inside my house, I did not suffer through the usual inner debate that came with having new people over. You see, my little brother was monopolizing the living room, Mom had dinner cooking and the dining room table set, and the only places that were left to go were my bedroom or back outside. I decided that if I acted like the idea of showing him my bedroom wasn't uncomfortable, the situation itself wouldn't be.

So we headed upstairs. I sat on my bed and, after the barest moment's hesitation, he followed suit. Felix was looking around the room with undisguised curiosity while my curiosity as I watched him was as hidden as I could manage. I saw him linger longest over my bookshelves and I silently wondered how many of the titles were familiar to him... that is, until I realized that it was a perfectly reasonable question to ask. Not only that, but the silence was getting uncomfortable and the asking of a question would go a long way toward fixing that.

I asked.

Felix looked surprised, which was interesting, seeing as it was, as I have already pointed out, a most reasonable question to be asking. I raised my brows in question. "You know, most people assume that I don't read."

"Seems like most people don't do much reading, themselves." And, I added silently, they were always all too ready to translate others' opinions and impressions into their own, without bothering to recognize that there are differences more often than not. It was like translating an idiom without accounting for meaning. Example: my French teacher once told me that they have a saying, "avoir le cul bordé de nouilles," which means to be lucky. Literal translation? "To have one's bottom stuffed with noodles." Yes, if a French person were to say this to you, you could translate it directly. Of course you could. You would just end up with something really strange and deviant from the actual meaning.

"Hey, Nat?" Felix said. I glanced over at him and saw that he was looking far too amused.

"Yes, Felix?"

"You spaced out a bit there. Did you hear a word I said?" I shook my head, focusing my eyes on the floor. Felix chuckled, though, and sat down next to me. "I was saying that you have good taste in literature. 'The Picture of Dorian Grey' is one of my favorites."

I grinned. "Really? No one-" I was cut off by my mother hollering that dinner was ready. I looked over at Felix and met his eyes, which were smiling at me. We went downstairs.

I found myself wishing that, awkward as hanging out in my bedroom had the potential to be, we had had just a bit more time there. You see, my mom had her full hostess charm on, and I could hardly do more than watch her and Felix talking. If I had wanted to get a word in edgewise, it would have been almost impossible. I did learn more about him through listening than I had ever managed to do through my own questioning, strange things like that he enjoyed going on fishing trips but not fishing and that he had a particular fondness for animated octopi.

"You know, I must admit I'm a little surprised, Felix," my mom said after we had all finished eating. I looked at her, alarmed. I couldn't begin to guess what was coming next, but I was certain that it was going to be painful for me. "I was sure that I knew all of Natalie's friends, but you're new. Not only that, but- I'm sure I'm pointing out the obvious here- you're not a girl."

"Mother!" I protested. "What?" I didn't know what else to say, but I felt that these two words sufficed.

"Oh, Natalie, it's no secret that you-"

"Mother!" I dared a darting glance Felix's way and saw that he was laughing. Of course he was; Felix was always cheerful and I knew how this must look. You know, other than its being completely humiliating.

"Luckily for me," Felix said once he was able to speak. "I'm not very fond of competition." That being said, he and my mother burst into a fresh round of hysterics. Couldn't they see that they were not being amusing? What, had she spiked his drink and her own? And why had I been left out?

"Sorry, Nat," Mom said after the giggles had died down. "Pass your dishes to me, the both of you. I'll take care of it." Felix, of course, collected everyone's dishes and carried them to the kitchen for my mother. She looked at me meaningfully and nodded her approval before following him.

I sulked up to my room, trying not to be as pleased with my evening as I was. When Felix joined me there a few minutes later, he found my hanging off of my bed upside down with Mozart blasting.

"Chopin?" he asked. I shook my head. "What about Sibelius?" I shook my head. We repeated this for Beethoven, Bach, Tchaikovsky, and Schubert before my head hurt from all of the blood. I sat up and promptly collapsed back on the bed, dizzy. I managed to move over so that he had room to sit down. "I was wondering how long you would be able to last," he said, joining me. "I like Mozart, too."

I'm pretty sure that in response to this, I added to the unattractive picture my nastily red face was already making by having my eyeballs almost pop out. I opened my mouth, snapped it shut again. Repeated. Meanwhile, Felix was watching me, clearly enjoying himself far more than the situation called for. I settled for not responding. In response to my lack of response, Felix shifted a bit so that, when I looked straight up from where I lay, all I could see was him.

Specifically, his face.

More specifically, his luminous eyes. I blinked mine in response and glanced away. His gaze was intense, hard to meet for more than a few seconds at a time. I looked back at him again and again. His gaze never wavered.

"I'm glad you came today," I finally said, shifting a bit and sitting up. I was still mildly dizzy, but I thought that this was as balanced as I would feel until he left. This was a thought that I was completely at peace with.

"I'm glad, too. I wasn't sure whether you would want me to, but... Well, I guess I've gotten used to seeing you more."

I smiled at him and fished around for something to talk about. The play! That had been my fallback topic ever since we had started actually hanging out. After all, it was the thing that he was most involved with and I liked seeing him talk. "How have rehearsals been going?" I asked.

Felix grinned at me, and I thought that there was something in my words that he was hearing other than the words, themselves. I almost asked him what that was, but it seemed like a bad idea. "Actually, things are kind of falling apart right now, hard core. We'll have everything ready by Tuesday."

I snorted. "What?"

"Oh, this is how it always goes. Everyone starts to go a bit crazy, starts to forget their lines or which lines are their own (guilty), and then it all magically comes together the next week. I was actually getting a little concerned. Things have been going too well." I stared at him, then burst out laughing.

"Words cannot express how glad I am that this is not how things work in the pit orchestra. If we started falling apart, Mrs. Klayman would have our heads."

"You know, your conductor has always scared me a bit. I mean, whose idea was it to give her that weapon?"

"You mean her baton?" I asked, holding back laughter.

"Whatever you call it, I have seen that thing go flying toward a few too many unlucky musicians for comfort." Felix pulled an exaggeratedly concerned face and I bumped my shoulder against his.

"Yes, well, she does get a little... shall we say overzealous? sometimes," I admitted. "But really, I can't believe it's almost over. And this is our senior year. What next? Do you know what you want to do?"

"I haven't decided yet," Felix said, shrugging. He looked uncomfortable. "There's this school of the arts up in New York that I've thought about attending."

"But?" I asked. His tone said that there clearly was a 'but.'

"But if I go there, I'm not sure my parents will still help me out... you know, financially. And I'm pretty sure my grades aren't good enough for anything but the lowest, most pathetic scholarships."

I frowned. "You're getting better grades than I am." In fact, I had always worked on this assumption, but I was almost certain that it was true.

"I don't know what you think they are, but I've got a 3.67."

"3.6 over here. I was right." Good, now I felt distinctly uncomfortable because I was thinking about my own sad financial state. If he was worried with a GPA that was better than mine...

"Okay, it's time to start talking about something else," Felix declared. I glanced around the room, trying to figure out what to say. He saved me the trouble, bringing up a funny story about something that had happened backstage. After that things were fine-just-fine until he left.

I walked halfway back to his house with him, claiming to want to go to the park that was right down the road. In fact, I did spend a little time there even though it was closed (and I felt like a massive daredevil the entire time, by the way. Judge me if you will). Always, I had enjoyed swinging. The only time I could was when it was really late or really early. Otherwise there were too many small children wanting to swing, and I never could justify the idea of my having a swing while some child that was smaller than me and therefore had a proper claim to being on the playground didn't.

When I got home, Mom was waiting in the living room. "You were gone longer than I expected."

"Sorry, I went to the park to think." I sat down on the couch with her. It had been a little while since we had had a real chat, and I could tell that she was dying to. She had even put some ice cream on the coffee table, with two spoons sitting on top. I grabbed one gratefully.

"I like your friend," Mom said. "Why have I never met him before? Were you too embarrassed? And if you were, was it by me or by him?" I gave her a sidelong look and took a pointedly large bit of ice cream. "Fine, I know. I'm definitely the more embarrassing one. But you have to admit, I played it cool back there."

"Yes, Mom, very cool," I said, because I knew that this was the response she would take the most fake offense to.

She swatted at me. "Fine, we'll talk about something else. Just know that I approve."

"Mom!"

"Okay, I'm done now for sure." Then she told me a bit about her work, about her friends, about my brother's latest antics. It was good. There was one topic being obviously skirted around, though- my father.

"Mom," I said when she was in the middle of a particularly thorough description of her best friend's new weave, "I know what you're doing."

"And what's that?" Well, at least she wasn't being coy.

"Dad. You want to know what happened today. Shall I tell you?" She nodded yes, her eyes meeting mine gratefully. I knew that she was still a little heartbroken over him. I knew that she would have talked all night without asking, if I hadn't brought it up. I knew also that this was what she wanted most to hear. So I told her. I told her all about how he left my grandmother alone, about how he thought it was fine to just come back.

"Sweetheart, you have to understand that your father left us because he loved your Nana so much. We tried to make things work long distance, but we couldn't, and he chose to stay with her instead of coming back. That is love. You know that he cares about her and that he wouldn't be coming back if he didn't think that it was really the right choice. But you're growing up without a father right now. You need him more than she does. You said yourself that she doesn't even know that he's there."

I couldn't picture it. "She must know, somewhere. Even if it's deep down, even if she can't bring that part of her to the light. She must know that she was left behind," I insisted. Mom nodded slowly. She didn't say another word on the topic. Pretty soon, we turned to the television and the conversation died.

I was perfectly aware that she wasn't going to let this drop forever, but I was more than happy to pretend for a bit. After the end of some sitcom, I went upstairs and saw that there was a text from Felix.

I smiled. It was nice to know that the day hadn't been a total loss.