A Kind of Contradiction

I was sitting at the breakfast nook drawing when Mom came in, having just finished up a conference call that occupied her for most of the morning. My stuff was taking up the entire table, pencils and rulers and printed photos of the Sagrada Familia from various angles splayed out in front of me. I hated staring at my laptop, and this way I could have all the images out at once.

Mom filled up a cup of coffee. “Do you need a refill?” she asked.

The pencil dropped from my hand, I was so surprised. Mom was not the type to reach out, especially since we barely spoke these days; unless she was getting mad at me for something, that is.

“Uh, sure,” I replied, and handed her my cup. “Thanks.”

“What is that you’re drawing?” Mom lingered by the nook after giving me my cup, filled to the brim with hot coffee. “It looks very complicated.”

“It’s called Sagrada Familia,” I said. “It’s a church in Barcelona. One of the most famous in the world.”

I didn’t blame her for not knowing what it was. Neither famous buildings or religion had ever been big in our family.

“Do you draw a lot of churches?”

“I guess. They can be really intricate, so it’s always a challenge, but I like that,” I said, still weirded out by the fact that we were having a normal conversation without yelling at each other. “My favourite is the Church of Hallgrímur. It’s in Iceland.”

Mom smiled, and we both knew she had no idea what I was talking about. The air in the kitchen turned awkward very quickly, so I cleared my throat and flipped through my sketchbook until I’d found one of the many drawings I’d done of Hallgrímur. I turned the book toward her, anxiously rubbing my hands against my knees. Mom had never shown an interest in my work, and it was odd to be showing it to her, but she looked at the drawing for a polite period of time before looking back at me.

“It’s an interesting building,” she said.

“I like the weird stuff,” I admitted. “When I think of the kind of buildings I want to design, this is what I take inspiration from. The classic styles are fine, and I learn a lot from them, but I love the stuff that stands out and doesn’t look like it really quite belongs. I guess I connect to that, a bit.”

Never had more words spilled from my mouth at a single time in any of our conversations since I got back from San Francisco. Mom held back her emotions well, but she still sighed. “I know that it’s been tough for both of us this last month. But you’re my daughter and I love you, and I want you to know that that hasn’t changed. Even if you have.”

“Mom,” I said, unsure of how I was supposed to reply. I slid over to the edge of the bench so that I could grab her hand, hanging loose by her side. “Sometimes — well, most of the time, I don’t like you. But I still love you.”

“Melanie told me that you didn’t have the easiest time in your first few months with her,” Mom said softly. Kindness, or any positive emotion for that matter, was not something I associated with my mother. This day was getting stranger by the second. “You were hanging onto something — to me. She said that you’d told her you had always been afraid of being yourself, that you didn’t know how. I guess I always thought you couldn’t be anything other than my baby girl, who looked up to her mother and wanted to be just like her. I never had that with Danny, so I may have pushed it too hard with you. I never saw that you weren’t like me at all.”

“I am kinda like you,” I said. “I’m stubborn and passionate and probably a bit crazy. Just about different things.”

Hugging wasn’t Mom’s thing, so she squeezed my hand and smiled. Of course, Danny chose that moment to stroll in and ruin the moment, Nash a few steps behind him. They’d stayed at a friend’s place last night, after Danny got too high to function. I only knew because Nash had texted me, all annoyed that he was yet again prevented from staying in my room.

“Woah, are you smiling?” Danny asked, narrowing his eyes at us. He’d at least changed his clothes, and didn’t reek of weed when he wandered closer to Mom and I. “Did I miss a big family moment?”

“Yes,” Mom replied, an unimpressed expression on her face. “Perhaps you and I will have one when you finally decide to make something of yourself.”

Then she walked out of the kitchen, saying hello to Nash on her way. “What was that all about?” Danny asked suspiciously.

I was still sort of in shock myself. “I don’t think Mom’s gonna disown me anymore.”

“If she sees those tattoos she might,” Danny replied, nodding at my leg, where the tip of the flowers tattooed on my inner ankle were peeking out from the cropped hem of my jeans. “We’re going into town, you in?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I need some stuff from the art store, anyway.”

“You always need stuff from the art store,” Danny said. “You have, like, a million pencils!”

I threw him a dry look. “How often do you buy beer?”

At that, he was quiet. After I’d gathered up my stuff, I ran upstairs and grabbed my purse, which already had everything I needed in it, and pulled on a pair of tennis shoes before meeting Danny and Nash by the front door. “Dude, we should totally go to Betty’s,” Danny said, walking faster than us down the sidewalk. It was nice, though, because Nash kept on brushing his fingers against mine, hooking his pinky around mine for a few seconds before letting go. He had this little grin on his face too, sort of cocky but not in a bad way, that made me want to kiss him.

“Do you want to get drunk in the middle of the day or something?” I asked.

“Hell yeah,” Danny replied, throwing a fist into the air.

“Despicable,” I muttered, making Nash chuckle.

When we turned the corner onto Main Street, the art store only a block away, Nash grabbed Danny’s arm and hauled him back toward us. “Woah!” Danny cried, colliding with his friend. “What the hell, man?”

“Paris is over there,” Nash said, nodding at the coffeehouse between us and the art store. There was a cluster of girls around our age standing out front, holding various iced drinks and probably gossiping.

“And?”

“Dude, you made out with her at Graham’s place last night.”

“Shit.”

Nash clapped him on the shoulder. “You should talk to her.”

“Why?” Danny groaned.

“Because she’s the first cool girl you’ve fooled into thinking you aren’t an idiot,” Nash replied. “Go talk to her.”

Danny glanced at the girls with barely concealed horror. “Be my wing man?”

“You gotta do this on your own,” Nash said. “Meet us at Betty’s in half an hour?”

“Fine,” Danny sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. While Nash and I went ahead, bypassing the girls outside the cafe — they did turn and look at us, whispering amongst themselves — and left Danny to approach on his own.

Once we were in the art store, Nash let out a sigh of relief, and a second later his fingers were threading through mine. I looked over in surprise, about to object, because anyone could walk in that wouldn’t keep their mouth shut, but he was kissing me before I got a word out. We’d hardly touched in days, a brush of the fingers or lips here and there, because Danny was constantly getting in the way.

Nash cupped my jaw with his free hand, smoothing his thumb across my cheek as we stumbled into the paints aisle to be out of the view of the employee at the till. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him in, savouring in the thrill of kissing somebody in public. Nash was already itching to touch skin, his hands slipping around to my shoulder blades, exposed by the deep armholes of my shirt. He hummed into my mouth, the low tone reverberating down my spine, and then pulled away.

It took a second to get my breath back, but then I fixed him with an accusatory stare. “Why did you stop?”

“Didn’t want to get too carried away,” he said, tangling our hands together once more. “So, what are we looking for?”

I got the charcoal, blending stick, and triangle ruler I’d been wanting, Nash following me around the store and stopping to look at the pastels and all the different kinds of paint brushes. I lingered in the drafting aisle, staring at the basal and adhesives for modelling, wondering if Mom would let me take a class where I could actually learn how to build models of all the stuff I was drawing now that she seemed to have accepted that this wasn’t just a passing hobby for me.

Once I’d made my purchases, Nash and I headed to Betty’s. The last time I’d been here, it was late at night and Nash sat with his body pressed against mine in a booth, his fingers lingering on my shoulder like a reminder of all the things we couldn’t do because I’d just started seeing Patrick.

Now, it was crowded with the midday lunch rush, and the second we stepped through the door somebody called out Nash’s name. James, Travis, and Max were crowded into a big booth, and it didn’t look like they’d ordered yet. We went over, Max sliding over (with a nervous glance at me) to make room. Nash sat down first, leaving a space for me at the end. The bench wrapped around the table, leaving plenty of room for Danny when he got here.

“Were you two on a date?” Travis asked, putting his chin in his hands and batting his eyelashes at us.

“Fuck off,” Nash replied, throwing a sugar packet at him.

“Nash got Danny to talk to some girl he made out with last night,” I explained. “He should be here soon.”

“Oh, you guys saw Paris?” James asked. I guessed he’d been at Graham’s house. “First cool girl who didn’t turn him down on the spot.”

“Exactly what I said,” Nash agreed.

The guys discussed this Paris girl until Danny got here, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and the teasing ensued immediately when he sat down. A waitress came around and greeted Nash by name, and even though it was the middle of the day everyone ordered a beer and one of the many burger and fries variations on the menu.

While James and Max told a story about the time they’d gone camping, getting really excited about The Ultimate S’more which they had apparently made, I zoned out and started people watching in the small but crowded diner.

There was a family a few booths away, two young children colouring with diner-provided crayons and parents twenty shades of exhausted. Across from them at a two-seater table was an elderly couple that looked like they were from Texas or Arizona, probably driving across the States in one of those massive RVs that are nicer than most people’s houses.

Before my imagination could wander further, a hand curled around my knee and I nearly jumped right out of the booth. The hand slid upward, resting against my thigh, and when I glanced over Nash was listening to Max talk about the perfect fire configuration like there was nothing else happening at all. I cursed him silently and leaned forward on my elbows, fixing my gaze on Danny instead. He wasn’t paying much attention to Max either, fixated on his hands like they held the secrets of the universe, his eyes a mix of emotions and his teeth clamped down on his lower lip. I poked his arm and he flinched.

“Thinking about that girl?” I asked. The others continued on with their story, but I could feel Nash’s hand tighten against my leg and I knew he was listening.

“She’s really great,” Danny said. “Everything about her is great.”

“So I’ve heard. Can you actually tell me something about her other than how cool she is?”

“Uh, her favourite Marvel hero is Spiderman, she’s allergic to peanuts, and she’s from Portland.”

“Spiderman?” I echoed.

Danny raised his eyebrows, curious. “What? Who’s your favourite Marvel hero?”

“Wolverine.”

Nash squeezed my thigh, and I glanced over to see him smiling. “Good pick,” he said.

“That is a good one,” Danny agreed. “I’m partial to Iron Man myself.”

“You only like him because Robert Downey Jr. plays him in the movies,” I said, when the waitress came by with our food. I popped a fry into my mouth, swatting Nash’s hand as he reached over to steal one. He’d gotten regular fries, which obviously weren’t as good as the sweet potato variation I’d ordered. In response, he pinched my leg.

It was a bad move, because I flinched, and Danny noticed. “You okay, sis?”

I beamed at him, trying to figure out how to get back at Nash for being stupid without causing too much of a commotion. I came up with the solution of waiting, and getting my payback later, when there weren’t so many idiot boys around. “Just fine. Got a random shiver.”