Flowers in the Wind

The parlor in Grandma Pearl’s house is covered in white. White curtains blow around the room as the ocean breeze roars on, the two love seats are beige white, and so is the coffee table. The only other color comes from the book spines peaking out of the white bookshelf which lines one wall. It’s the perfect room to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee in and that is exactly what I am doing when Brian knocks on the door.

Our meeting on the beach was a couple of days ago, and part of me felt that that would be our one and only encounter. I came to terms with it, the high point of my summer being sitting on the dock with a beautiful boy—in silence occasionally broken up by bursts of words. Without says anything we seemed to come to the mutual decision that we weren’t there to talk to each other. There was a comfort in having a mute companion, somebody to sit with and watch as the sun performed a color show in the darkening sky, but not having the beauty soiled by words which didn’t seem big enough for the situation.

Grandma Pearl lets him inside and walks him into the parlor, offering him a seat beside me on the couch. Brian stands in the doorway, the sweeping wind blowing at his hair and the mid-afternoon sun giving him an ethereal glow. The room seems to turn quiet, as if not making a sound was the one thing Brian and I were good at. He wears baggy white pants and a grey dress shirt. The staring seems to be something only the two of us understand, and after looking between us in confusion, my grandmother insists he take a seat.

“It’s good to see you again Brian. This is my granddaughter, Wendy,” she explains, catching the punch line a little too late.

Our eyes bear into each others, it’s like my grandmother isn’t in the room. It’s just the two of us. “We’ve met once already Mrs. Young.” He’s still staring at me, the hint of a smile playing at his full lips.

“Oh, how wonderful, I’ve been anticipating introducing the two of you. You’re just around the same age, you know.” Grandma Pearl doesn’t question us on how we’ve met. I like that about her. When neither of respond with anything more than a nod of our head, she continues. “I’m very good friends with Brian’s grandmother, you don’t mind sending her over later, right?” Her eyes seem to light up at the thought of having an encounter with her friend, and for a moment I think of how lonely she must be and I feel incredibly sad for her.

“I’d be happy to.” He breaks our connection and turns to my grandmother, giving her an understanding smile. He has a lovely smile, the kind you just know you can trust, and which so often can be misleading. Michael has that kind of smile.

“Well, Wendy, Brian here came down to see if you were interested in him showing you around town. It would be nice if you got to know somebody your own age around here.” Brian and her share a laugh, and the laugh meets his eyes. There’s something about a boy who gets along with old ladies—it’s impossible for me not to smile until my teeth show.

“And I’d like to get to know you, so really this whole visit is quite selfish of me.”

“I’d like to go with you.” It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to a boy that I worry I’ll do it wrong. I want to flirt with him, I used to be flirty, but it feels almost sacrilegious to do so. Back home in New York I knew how to talk to boys. Give them just enough to be intrigued and feel that you’re interested in them, but not too much so that they lose interest. Being around Brian makes me not want to be that girl any more. I think I’m having an identity crisis.

My grandmother grins, her lemon colored smile accentuated by the sun and Brian returns his gaze on me. “Great.” His voice reveals no sign of emotion but I just seem to know he’s happy I agreed to go.

The town is small and it takes only about 45 minutes for me to see all there is to see—we end the tour at a gate in front of a skate park. I lean my back against it and so does he, our bodies angled to face each other. My hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail with tendrils falling out and framing my face. He pulls one behind my ear, and then pulls his hand back, seemingly shocked by his own action. I don’t mind. “So that was it, I’m sorry you couldn’t have been sent to a more interesting location for the summer.”

My smile slips away as I’m reminded of why I’m here in the first place and how if we’re going to be friends it’s eventually going to come up. “And so is Michael.” A dark part of my mind thinks, the part that’s always there to point out matters I’d rather not think about. I let out a long sigh, wrapping the tendril of hair he just moved, around my finger. “It’s fine really, it doesn’t suck completely.” I let myself flirt with my eyes, the chocolate brown contrasting with the bright green of his.

He knows what I mean, I know he does, and I love that I don’t have to spell it out for him. He’s smiling and then he’s running a hand through his hair in an attempt to mess it up, but it only makes him look hotter. The wild look I loved about Michael showing up on him. But I already had a wild boy, I don’t want another. “I’m glad to hear it, have you ever been to a skate park? A bunch of my friends hang out here all the time and I know they’d love to meet you.” His smile makes it impossible to tell him what I’m thinking, that I’d really like to interact with as few boys as possible this summer. I follow him in.

Brian’s friends are sitting against the fence, the opposite one from where we were standing. There’s three of them; Kenneth, Todd, and Eric. Kenneth is short and fat with fire engine red hair and an ego not befitting his looks. When I walk in he automatically starts hitting on me, I position myself closer to Brian. Todd is the same height as Brian and seems to be some variation of Spanish, he’s quiet but it doesn’t come off as rude, it’s just him. Eric talks enough for all of us. He’s muscular and tattooed but when he speaks it becomes obvious that he’s gay, something which is hard to get from his appearance. They surely are a motley crew.

“So where are your skateboards?” I ask after we’ve spoken for fifteen minutes and nobodies made a move to use any of the ramps.

They look at each other and burst out laughing, except for Todd who just sort of smiles, a joke I’m not in on. “I like her, she’s funny.” Eric smiles and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering it around; when it comes to me I shake my head no. To my relief Brian is the only other person in the group who turns down Eric’s offer. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.

“None of us skate,” Brian explains, matter-of-factly, as if the fact that four non-skaters hang out regularly at a skate park isn’t weird in the slightest.

“Makes sense,” I say dryly. They nod, not picking up on the sarcasm—or at least ignoring it. The familiar smell of cigarette smoke quickly hits my nostrils, and I try not to think of how much I’ve missed it.

“So have you invited her yet?” Kenneth asks, looking in Brian’s direction. Brian seems embarrassed, a light blush runs from his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose.

“Well I didn’t get around to it yet, Kenny.” I feel embarrassed for him, but I don’t know why. He just seems like a person who doesn’t get self-conscious very often, and I don’t think he ever should.

“Where am I being invited?” I try not to sound too excited, and I’m sure I fail.

“Rocky Horror, tonight.” Todd answers for Brian, the first thing he’s said since I got there, besides his name.

I have no clue what that is, but I feel a desperate need to know.