by Chase Connor
“My brother was named Noe,” I said finally, though my voice was weak as I stared out at the same nothing as Peter. “He liked Smarties. Actually, I think he just liked sugar.”
“Was he younger than you?”
“Yes.”
“Most young kids love sugar.”
I nodded slowly, another candy finding its way into my mouth as I stared ahead blankly.
“He had very few pleasures in life,” I added. “Life was—it was harsh? For him.”
A pause. A pregnant uncertainty of whether or not questions should be asked.
“Why?”
“He was autistic. And black.” I said, simply. “I suppose what I mean to say is that life was not harsh but that people made it harsh for him. The world is full of people who would think nothing of being cruel to him.”
“Candy was one of life’s simple pleasures.”
“Yes,” I said, my eyes finally coming back into focus as I turned to look at Peter. He turned his body so that his knee slid up onto the bench between us, but he made sure that we still touched. “And when I could not provide that simple pleasure was when I always felt the worst.”
Peter did not answer, but I could tell he understood.
“Noe was my best friend.”
That was all I had left to say that I felt I could say without falling apart. Another candy was deposited into my mouth.
“When did he…?”
“A few months ago.”
“I see.”
“Yes.”
Again, we sat in a pregnant silence as we stared at each other, but not really seeing each other. Both of us were looking at something that wasn’t there.
“Can I have your candy?” Peter held his hand out expectantly.
Without thinking, I held the mostly full bag of M&Ms out to Peter. He took them from me and then moved closer.
“Open up.” He smiled.
“What?”
“Open your mouth.” Peter shook the bag of candies at me mischievously. “You are eating them wrong if you are trying to honor Noe. I think he would shove as many into his mouth as he could at one time.”
“No. Well, yes.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “But I am not doing that.”
“Why?” Peter pretended to be aghast. “Are you trying to just exist again?”
I frowned at him, though I was not unamused.
“Don’t you think Noe would want you to shove as many M&Ms in your mouth as you could at one time?”
“Is this a naughty talent thing?”
Peter brayed with laughter as I grinned at him.
“Don’t make this dirty.” Peter admonished me playfully once he got himself under control. “This is about Noe. I think you need to eat a huge mouthful of sugar to honor him. Don’t just eat them one by one. Stuff your face full and do your best to chew them all up without letting them spill out of your mouth. Be crazy, Enzo. Stop just existing.”
For a moment, I considered Peter’s suggestion. How happy would Noe be to see me shoving that many candies in my mouth at one time, savoring the overabundance of sugar?
“Don’t make fun of me,” I warned him.
“Never.” Peter moved his hand that held the M&Ms closer.
“And don’t do anything weird.”
“What’s weird?” He asked, evilly.
I laughed, then before I could question anything, I tilted my head back and opened my mouth widely to receive the candies. Peter brought the bag to my mouth and poured them, slowly at first, then practically dumped them into my mouth. I started to sputter with laughter as the hard, little bites of candy-coated chocolate filled my mouth, threatening to fill my mouth to the brim and spill over. Most of the candies stayed in my mouth as the bag was finally emptied, and I tilted my head back up, closing my mouth quickly, my cheeks bulging. Peter laughed as my eyes bugged, and I did my best to chew all of the candies. Peter laughed, not at my difficulties in chewing the candies, but in the joyous absurdity of it all, as I continued to struggle to keep the candies in my mouth and chew.
“This is living, Enzo.” He proclaimed as I choked down the first bit of semi-chewed candies. “Sitting in a closed park after midnight with a mouthful of M&Ms.”
All I could do was try to indicate that I agreed with my eyes because even something such as attempting to smile would have caused candies to spill from my mouth. Peter laughed, and I chewed and swallowed, and together we celebrated Noe’s love of sugar. Just as the last bit of candies were getting crushed between my teeth and swallowed down, a bitter gust of wind whipped through the park, slashing against our cheeks and blowing the M&Ms wrapper from Peter’s hand. I choked down the rest of the candy with a grimace as Peter and I watched the empty wrapper flutter upwards and away from us. My eyes followed the dark brown wrapper, black in the stark, cold darkness of night, as it fluttered through the air and got snagged in a tree branch above our heads.
“Shit,” Peter said. “We’ve left evidence of our crime, Enzo. We’re going to have to go on the lam or end up in prison.”
I chuckled as I stared up at the wrapper.
“We cannot leave evidence.” I shook my head playfully. “I do not want to go to prison. But mostly, I do not want to seem like an amateur criminal.”
“It belongs to the tree now.” Peter shrugged comically. “All we can do is accept our fate.”
“I can get it.”
“You’re tall.” Peter chuckled. “But there’s no way you can reach that.”
“Maybe if I run and jump—”
“No way.” Peter scoffed, drawing my eyes back to him.
“How dare you?” I feigned offense.
“How dare I?” Peter waggled his head haughtily. “How dare you embellish your abilities merely to impress me?”
“Embellish?” I couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of our conversation. “I can reach it.”
“Liar.”
“How rude.”
“Prove it.”
“I will.”
“Do it,” Peter said.
“I will.”
“What are you waiting for, huh?”
“A good reason.”
“Fine.” Peter held a finger to his chin thoughtfully. “For your efforts in retrieving the evidence which would surely land us in prison—if not an execution date—I will give you a kiss.”
Immediately, I blushed, and my chin dipped to my chest again, a smile coming to my face against my will. Peter coughed slightly, obviously also astounded at his forwardness.
“I mean…ya’ know…if that is an acceptable prize.”
Nothing I could think to say would make me seem adequately cool enough in my own eyes, so I merely looked up, my cheeks surely still rosy, and nodded.
“I can do it.”
“I hope you can,” Peter stated hoarsely.
Slowly, I rose from the bench, my eyes still on Peter’s, and held my unopened box of Smarties out to him, which he eagerly took from my hand, though I could tell he was trying not to seem eager. My fingers went to the buttons on the front of my new coat, and I stared into Peter’s eyes as I undid each button methodically, then pushed it off of my shoulders. Peter’s Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat as I pulled the coat off and handed it to him without a word. He took the coat in his hand and held it close as I stared at him. Without a word still, I began backing up, my eyes never leaving Peter’s. After several backward strides, I pried my eyes from Peter’s and looked up at the wrapper, still snared by the tree limb overhead. My body rocked on the balls of my feet a few times, preparing to run and jump for the wrapper.
A kiss from Peter.
I thought it once, and my feet propelled me forward without my willing it, and I was running full speed towards the bench. When I was almost under the tree limb, I pushed off of the ground and leapt, my hand reaching out for the wrapper. My eyes shut, and I felt a wish enter my mind at the same time I thought of a kiss from Peter once more. My fingers found their prize and wrapped around the em
pty wrapper, yanking it free from the tree limb. I nearly stumbled, falling into Peter and the bench, but even though I corrected my stance and caught myself, I found that I wouldn’t have cared if my landing had been imperfect. The prize I desperately wanted would be mine…though I was suddenly overcome with dread at the thought of collecting it.
What if I am a bad kisser?
I’ve never kissed anyone before.
Not like that.
“Holy shit.” Peter was grinning widely when I opened my eyes. “You actually got it.”
“I told you I would,” I said, simply.
“I should have known better than to assume you would lie about…anything.”
I shrugged, my cheeks flushed.
“My hero.” Peter batted his eyelashes at me, making me chuckle nervously. “I suppose fair is fair.”
Peter stood from the bench, my coat still in his hand.
“What?”
“I have to kiss you now, don’t I?”
“You do not have to.” What the hell was I saying? “It was just a silly bet.”
“You proved you aren’t a liar,” Peter said. “I have to prove that I’m not either.”
“Well,” I said, searching for some way to avoid a kiss I so desperately wanted but was terrified to receive, “maybe I do not want to seem easy?”
“You don’t want a kiss from me?” Peter held a hand to his chest, though his cheeks betrayed his playful action.
“I don’t know now.” I tilted my nose up in the air, though my cheeks were surely betraying me. “How do I know it is a worthy prize?”
“You little shit.” Peter laughed loudly. “Now you’re definitely getting a kiss.”
Like a child, I squealed gleefully as Peter jumped towards me, and I jumped out of his way with a laugh, running away, but not putting any real effort into it. Peter chased after me, my coat flapping in his hand as I held tightly to the M&Ms wrapper and ran around the park bench. For several moments, Peter chased me around the park bench, trying to catch me so that he could give me the kiss he had promised when we had made our bet. If I had wanted, I could have easily outrun Peter in our little game, but I was not trying to outrun him. I was simply teasing him, while also trying to figure out if I had the courage to accept the kiss I so desperately wanted. Peter laughed and chased me, trying just hard enough to catch up, but giving me enough leeway so that if I was caught and given a kiss, it was because I wanted it to happen.
Laughing as I rounded the back of the bench for what seemed like the hundredth time, I cut to my right and leapt the bench like it was an Olympic hurdle. Peter, having seen me telegraph my actions, turned around and started running towards the front of the bench, and we collided. Laughing and grasping at each other so that we didn’t tumble to the ground, I found Peter’s arms around my middle as mine went around his shoulders. Heaving breaths and laughing, Peter’s forehead met my chin as he leaned into me, trying to catch his breath. Breathing heavily, I held onto him, laughing and doing my best not bury my nose in his ginger waves of hair to see if he smelled as amazing as he looked. As we caught our breath and held each other, Peter’s head tilted back so that he could look up at me, and I felt his hot breath at the front of my throat.
Our eyes locked, and our laughing tapered off, though our heavy breathing somehow did not abate. Peter’s eyes searched mine as he breathed against my throat, and I felt him rise to his tiptoes, his mouth attempting to meet mine. I swallowed hard as Peter stared into my eyes, and I breathed against his mouth, needing to do nothing more than move forward mere inches so that my lips could connect with his. But I couldn’t force myself to do it. Instead, we stared into each other’s eyes and breathe against each other’s mouths for what seemed like an eternity, though it was probably only a few seconds. Finally, Peter lowered himself to stand flat on his feet, and he cleared his throat, looking shaky as he caught his breath.
“You should…we should probably get this back on you.” He said, raising my jacket to slowly pull it around me. “You’ll get cold.”
I breathed out shakily.
“Yes.”
Peter draped my jacket around me, allowing me to slide my arms back into the warm sleeves, and he pulled it tightly shut around me. For the second time in the evening, his nimble fingers expertly buttoned it along the length of my torso. Finally, he gave the front of the jacket a tug, as if testing it to make sure that it was securely buttoned before looking up into my eyes once more. Without another word, we both turned toward the bench, as though we had choreographed this moment, and sat down next to each other once again. Sitting there for a moment, both of us finally caught our breath, and we settled into a tense but comfortable silence again. Peter reached into the pocket of his jacket and extracted a box of Smarties, then held them out to me. I reached over and took them from him, my fingertips playing along his once more, electrifying and thrilling.
In silence, we began eating candy again.
I could have kissed Peter.
I knew that was my call to make.
Peter was going to let me make the decision of how my first kiss would go.
However, I could suffer the indignity of kissing him and finding out that I was a bad kisser. I could not suffer the indignity of kissing someone I knew that I would never see again once our night together was over.
Quicker Is Better
It was a warm, early summer morning when my mother decided that she didn’t want to take any more of her medications. Things were going well for her as far as managing her pain level, and she did not seem to be affected by the side effects of her cancer as much as she once was. She had come to me on the morning she decided to stop taking her pills—a day when I would have gone to the pharmacy to spend money we did not have to refill her prescriptions—and told me that the money would be better spent elsewhere. It was early summer, but fall and winter always arrive year after year, and Noe would need a new coat. His old coat was so threadbare that it would not get him through the beginning of fall. She told me that I should take the money for her medications and go to the store with Noe to find him a coat so that he would be comfortable for the coming months.
Though we both pretended that this was wonderful news, the feeling that she did not need to take her medications anymore, we both knew this to be a lie. As I looked into my mother’s eyes, listening to her suggest that we use the money for a coat for Noe, I smiled and nodded. Yes. This was wonderful news. You are getting better, and the medication is unnecessary now. This was the lie we told each other with our eyes. Regardless of what tales we told with our body language, we both knew the truth. These were the final days for my mother. The calm before the storm. It wasn’t that she didn’t need her medication anymore; it was simply that the medications were pointless. She would probably feel well for a few weeks…and then things would change. And she would never recover. Seeing Noe with a new coat, prepared for the coming winter, would make that last descent more bearable for her.
So, I did not question her decision. I smiled, nodded, shared a lie with my eyes, and promised that I would find Noe a reasonably priced coat with this little extra money that we now had. Noe and I got dressed that morning, prepared to go to a thrift store, and search high and low for a nice coat that would serve its purpose. Hopefully, for a few years. Maman said that she would nap while we were out, reluctant to leave the apartment for long when she was never sure how long she would feel well enough to be on her feet. When Noe and I left our apartment, walking the few blocks to the nearest thrift store, my hand on his forearm to make sure that he was safe, though he was well into his teenage years then, I was able to forget my mother’s condition. I didn’t have to think about what had happened and what was to come for my family. Noe and I had a mission.
When we got to the thrift store, nearly empty at such an hour on a weekday, which was fortunate for Noe and his aversion to crowds, I felt hopeful. Maybe I was being overly optimistic after Maman, and I had convinced ourselves that she was getting
better. Maybe I knew that I was lying to myself that our little family that was now only three would somehow find a way to flourish after our years of poor luck. Or maybe I just knew that there had been so many bad days behind us that I would lie about that day being a good day no matter what we encountered when we set out from our apartment on foot. The universe was going to smile down upon us, if only for an hour while we searched out a decent secondhand coat.
“It smells funny in here,” Noe said upon entering the store, his eyes on the ground.
“I know, mon petit monstre.” I chuckled, letting my hand slide from his forearm. “But we won’t stay any longer than we have to.”
Mon petit monstre? Noe was always nearly as tall as me.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“I don’t want a coat that smells like this place, Enzo.”
“I will wash it as many times as I need to so that it smells nice for you, Noe,” I reassured him. “You won’t have to wear it until it is clean. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“What color are we looking for?” I asked though I knew the answer.
“Blue,” Noe answered automatically. “I like blue, Enzo.”
“Then we will have to find a blue coat.” I smiled, leading my brother further into the store. “We won’t stop looking until we find a blue coat.”
“Okay. But I don’t want to stay in here forever. I don’t like it in here.”
“Then we have to see quicker than we’ve ever seen before.”
“That’s dumb.” Noe laughed. “People do not see quickly.”
“I see quickly,” I responded impishly. “Do not doubt the powers of your brother, monstre.”
“Okay. You see quickly, I guess.”
“Exactly. How quickly do you think I can see this new coat?”
Noe turned his head to look at me, his eyes landing on my chin.
“Seven minutes.” He said. “I want you to find it in seven minutes.”
“What if I am quicker than that?”