She steps back, blinks, and I almost think I see shimmers of regret there. Some tiny splash of responsibility for her part in this. She shakes her head sorrowfully, grasps her trolley, and spins away from us. Quickly, I stoop to Frankie. “Where’s Marie goin?” she asks around the lollipop stick she’s chewing. Her tongue has turned bright red. Her eyes are bright with sugar and food coloring.
“Marie needed to leave. I had to make sure she didn’t tell Daddy she saw us. Do you understand?”
She nods.
My heart is heavy and hurt. I try to breathe deeply and calm myself, but it’s so damn hard. Krow returns to us once Marie has left the store. His black eyes are colored with compassion. That iridescent raven blue. He simply says, “It’s not easy when they come lookin’. It’s even harder when you know they’re only lookin’ to hurt you.” Shivers run down my spine. I place my hand on his arm and squeeze gently. Wiping my eyes before the tears have a chance to run rivers down my face.
After we finish our shopping, we take it to the counter.
Krow pulls out a long, thick ribbon that was tucked behind a tin of beans. It’s pale blue satin, and it has tiny stars of a slightly darker blue embroidered on it. He places it on the counter. He goes to say something, but he can’t quite get it out. Once we’ve paid, he shoves it at me.
I take it, roll it carefully, and place it in my pocket. “Thank you, Krow.”
As we walk away from the store, he manages to mumble, “Well, you should have something nice for yer date. You can put it in yer hair or somethin’”
It’s so sweet I can barely breathe.
Frankie tries to steal it from my pocket.
24
HIRO
I wash away the salt and grime of the day. Watching dirt pool between my bare feet and then suck down the drain. The docks were gray and sullen today. The ice on the containers made it hard to think about anything other than not falling. But now all I can think is—what have I got myself into?
I scrub the used bar of soap through my hair. It feels wiry and plastic like doll’s hair. If only I could scrub away the rest of my cares like the dirt. I’m nervous. I’m worried it won’t go well, that I’ll disappoint her. I’m also worried about the complete opposite. That it will go well and make me want something I shouldn’t really have.
Kite said I find the good. I find hope. I can do that for other people. I’m just not very good at finding it for myself.
I turn off the squeaky taps and stand still, letting the drips run down my skin. Swoop down the bridge of my nose and drop like new tears to join the ocean. Either way I look at it, I’m screwed.
The other men at the Y stare at me when I exit the shower room. I curse and move to the mirror, trying to flatten my hair. When it doesn’t really cooperate, I shrug. She’s seen me after dock work and sleeping in the alley. Anything after that will be an improvement.
I leave the Y trying to leave my expectations there, too. I made a promise. I just need to keep it.
I walk the street with my head down. My eyes swinging up to shop windows every now and then. White models clad in fur and holding skis. A foreign world. A foreign life.
I wonder if Kite’s ever been skiing. I snort. Probably.
But I need to check my prejudice. Stopping, I stare at the models. Vacant eyes. Easily shattered bodies. I remind myself that whatever benefit her rich parents provided her came at a heavy, heavy cost.
I think about buying her flowers. But they would die without light. And they’re a waste of money. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I head down to the subway.
This whole date thing is a waste of money.
I open the door. Full of preconceptions. Nervous energy and doubt.
But then…
She comes to me with stars in her hair. Bruised and beautiful. Wings as delicate as fire ash. And I forget all my sullenness. My doubts. I forget everything except how many steps it will take for her to reach me. Kite smiles shyly, and Frankie pushes her forward. “Ta da!” she exclaims loudly.
Keg chuckles but Krow smacks his head, and the rest of them turn away. Giving us precious privacy in this open space. This is something normal carved out of something very not-normal. I feel like they wish me well. Even if they don’t really understand it.
I step forward. “You look beautiful,” I mutter. Again, there’s some chuckling from the boys and another smack as Krow shushes them. She has color on her lips but no other makeup. Her bruises are fading to yellowish around her jaw. “But then, you always do. Look beautiful, that is.”
Sniggers.
She dips her head. Her hair neatly curled under. She’s wearing the outfit she had on when I pulled her from the window. It feels like so long ago. But it’s not. We’re still pretty new to each other. Still finding and losing our feet. “Thank you, Hiro. You look very nice, too.”
I stare down at my clean shirt and crinkled trousers. I look like a street kid impersonating a regular kid. I stifle my snort because her eyes are so earnest and truthful. She sees me differently. Under a light that most people don’t even know exists. Some shade of color invisible to most. I offer my arm, and she takes it.
“Get some rest, Frankie. Krow and Kelpie are here if you need anything.” She bends down and kisses her sister’s forehead. Gets butted in the process. “Are you sure you’re okay with me leaving?” She rubs the spot where Frankie has hit her.
“Yes. I’ll be fine. You go hev fun, Nor-ah!” She scuttles behind her sister, pushes her in the back. Kite stumbles, and I catch her before she hits the ground.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asks as we take the strangest trip from the front door to transport that anyone has ever taken on their first date. Splashing through muddy water, skirts and pant legs held up so we don’t get them dirty. Usually it’s a garden path or porch steps to a car. But there’s nothing usual about this situation.
“I thought we’d see a movie and then dinner, if that’s all right with you?” I ask, sounding formal. Trying to do the things I think I’m supposed to do.
“Sounds lovely.” We wait for the platform to empty, ears pressed to the door. “This is strange,” she whispers.
I let out a small puff of bellows, a tight laugh. “It sure is.”
Then she says something that glues more affection for her to the inside of my chest. “I like that it’s strange.”
We step out onto the platform. I think she should let go of my arm, but she refuses. We’re in between the subway rushes, so at least there are not many people around. But we still get stared at. I try to be like Kite and not let it get to me.
But keeping my head in the clouds is difficult. I can’t see. I want the firmness of alley stones beneath my feet.
We step onto the train and she sits down, patting the seat beside her. I shake my head. She looks disappointed. I’ve already made a mistake, and we’re not even there yet.
“Where are we going?” she asks, legs jittering a little.
I picked a place that might afford us some level of cover. “Chinatown.”
She claps her hands loudly. “Oh, I’ve never been!” I put up a hand to calm her, but can’t help grinning at her excitement.
“Well, I have a feeling you’ll like it.” A man grimaces at us and I ignore him. I lean down, catching myself in the gold light of her eyes. “Just be patient with me. This is my first time.” She smiles, teeth clanging. I catch her hope, slinging it around my wrist to check from time to time.
“Only if you’ll allow me the same patience.” I raise my eyebrows in surprise. She’s eighteen. She’s a society girl. How can she have never dated before? Picking up on my surprise, she says quietly, “You think my father let me date?”
The mood dries to cracks in the desert floor. I place my finger under her chin. She doesn’t resist me, and her sad eyes connect with mine. “Okay. Since we’re both new at this, let’s set some rules. Number one, no talking about him.”
She nods solemnly in agreement. “Number two…” She takes my hand in
hers. “No avoiding physical contact.”
I frown at that, but nod.
“Number three?” I ask, her hand feeling too right in mine. And too delicate.
She taps her chin. “Hm. Number three… What was it Frankie said?” Pushing out her lips, she vibrates like her little sister. Using a husky voice, she says, “Hev fun!”
I chuckle. “Sounds like a good plan.”
She squeezes my hand, sending waves of summer through me. “It certainly does.”
We get out at the right station, and walk into the frozen city. It’s not dark yet, and the neon lights of Chinatown are unlit and sugarcoated with mounds of snow. Kite holds my hand tightly as we walk, like she’s scared I’ll float away. I squeeze back. I’m trying my best to live in this moment. And trying not to fail her.
“So, there were never any boys?” I ask, wishing I could take the words back. I stare at the gritty white ground, embarrassed.
Giggling, she covers her mouth with her hand. “There were boys. I did go to a co-ed.”
Yeah, I shouldn’t have asked.
“Just no dates…” I guess.
She shakes her head, then leans it on my shoulder. “No dates.”
I want to ask other questions. Because right now, my head is filled with a lineup of prep-school boys, all richer and better than me. They have prospects spilling from their tailored blazer pockets. When I think of them being close to her, my heartrate spikes. “No dates,” I repeat. At least I get that. I get to be the first.
She says it very quietly. Apprehensively. “There’s never been anyone worth writing home about until you, Hiro.”
My chest fills with sweet, warm air, and I think maybe I will float away. I lean into her. Let the smell of her weakening perfume brush my cheek. I’m worth writing home about. We reach the entrance to the theater and study the posters and times. Our choices are Walt Disney’s Peter Pan and War of the Worlds. “You can pick,” I say, knowing what she’ll choose.
“I don’t really feel like death and destruction today.” She points at the poster, running her finger over the words. “At this very moment, spaceships from the beyond may be on their way to destroy our planet!” She reads the rather long tagline in a dark and sinister voice and laughs.
I read the tagline for Peter Pan using the same kind of end-of-the-world serious voice, “It will live in your heart forever!” I hold my arm straight out in front of me like a zombie, walking jerkily toward her while pulling a scary face. She clutches her heart, and descends into hysterical fits of laughter. It fulfils me in a way I’ve not felt before. Like making her laugh suddenly became my number-one priority.
Breathless, she leans against the poster and smiles, sending shots of starlight and moonbeams flurrying around me. “How did you manage to make such a sweet story like Peter Pan sound like a horror story?”
I shrug. “Pure talent.” She knocks my shoulder lightly.
We make it to the ticket box, and the man inside doesn’t give us a funny look at all. This is shocking to me, and I stumble as I say, “Two for Peter Pan, please.” Sliding the money under the glass. Nodding, he breaks off the tickets. He looks like a dancing monkey in his red and gold vest. When he smiles, he shows that his teeth are in worse condition than a dancing monkey and I try not to stare. “Have a nice evening.” He tips his hat.
I snatch the tickets like they’re made of gold, and we enter the velvety theater. Two happy young people. Out for a ‘nice evening’.
If this is all I get, it would almost be enough.
25
KITE
Hiro buys me candy and popcorn. Handing it over while trying to smother his do-not-waste-this expression. We shuffle into the theater with other patrons. Most look more like him and less like me in this part of town. I think it helps him relax. His shoulders drop an inch. His face seems less stretched and tense. His eyes are not always looking for trouble to find him.
I feel like I’m not quite touching the ground. Like Wendy as she is splashed with fairy dust and lifts from the floor. It’s all too much, and I’m scared I will want more.
We nestle into the seats, and curtains roll back slowly. The music begins to play, and we both suck in an awestruck breath. A painted London scene is revealed slowly. Velvet cushions at our backs and nothing stopping us from being a couple on a first date. It feels like the curtains open just for us. Showing us a life possible. A way to take flight.
It is wonderful.
A dream. A dream. A dream.
And it becomes even more wonderful when Hiro tentatively stretches his arm behind me to rest it over my shoulders.
Oh, let me live in this moment forever.
I breathe in happy little sighs, alternately gobbling popcorn and candy until I feel like I could burst from salt and sweet. And I stare at him instead of the movie, watch his reaction to the lost boys and Wendy, James, and Michael Darling as they try to adapt to life in Neverland. His face is lit by bluish light. Handsome and focused but comfortable.
Here in the dark, we are easy.
We are as light as feathers. We can best Hook, defeat the crocodile, and sail home on a magic pirate ship.
He breathes the same kind of tranquility as me. He broke off a piece, and we share it.
I lay my ear on his chest. Hear the determined beat of his heart.
I know it can’t always be like this, but the memory of this experience will live in my heart forever just as the poster promised. It will sustain me. Laughing, I touch my sternum.
Hiro leans down, his lips brushing my ear. I start, I shiver, I see stars. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” I whisper as he strokes my hair gently. Treats me like I’m not only precious but deeply desired.
“Me too.” His voice like hot, poured coffee.
“Gosh! Don’t you think Frankie is just like Tinkerbell?” I ask as we leave the dark cinema, blinking and filled with happy thoughts.
Hiro chuckles. “You know what? She really is.”
I stomp my foot like Tink does after Peter Pan ignores her. It’s just like Frankie when she feels like she’s not being listened to. “And the temper…”
Hiro reaches for my hand. It’s a small but significant gesture because it seems to come without thought. Without doubt. “Yes, the temper is pretty damn close.”
“One of the lost boys reminded me of Kamo,” I say more softly. A sad smile painting my face like the lick of brush. Maybe it was wrong to say it, but these things can’t be buried. I can’t go back to that kind of life.
Hiro smiles with sadness, too. “I know the one you mean. The one dressed like a skunk, right?” I forget. Hiro’s not like that. He may be guarded. But he has always been honest with me.
I squeeze his hand. “That’s the one.”
He swipes at his face, fog slipping from his mouth, and says, “I miss that kid.”
I kiss his cheek. “I know you do.”
He pats his pockets, seems to put it aside. Grief does that, though. It pops up like a pretty weed. It grabs attention for a moment before it withers away. Only to return next spring. “Are you hungry?”
I nod eagerly, though I’m packed with popcorn and chocolate. “Did you have a place in mind?” People stream around us and out into the open air. It’s nighttime now, and they all seem to be following the lights. Dragons and lanterns. Foreign smells and foreign tongues. I jump up and down excitedly.
“I know a place,” he says rather secretively.
I cover my mouth dramatically. “Ooh, intriguing!” He winks. And I try to keep up with him while simultaneously starting to melt.
He seems to know where he’s going. Eyes lifted to signs. A big one that reads Golden Dragon Restaurant and Bar grabs my attention, and I pause to stare. The snake-like dragon winds through the letters, breathing fire with a long tongue. Mine is almost hanging out from all the stimulation, the new, and Hiro puts a hand to my back, ushering me into a smaller place, no neon lights, just a simple hand-painted sign that reads Chop Su
ey in uneven black lettering.
It smells deliciously unfamiliar and I float in on flavored steam, while Hiro sniggers behind me.
I wait at the door for the maître d, hands clasped in front of me. “You just sit here. It’s not silver service or nothin’” Hiro says, walking past me.
We find a table and sit, creaking on plastic chairs. Mirrors reflect roasted ducks hanging by their necks in the window. Dark heads and dark eyes, wielding giant cleavers as they skillfully chop the birds into small pieces. A man behind us lifts his eyes briefly, but his regard is merely curious. We don’t garner the kind of attention we have in other places. If they have a problem, they’re keeping it to themselves. The man draws in a snort that sounds full of mucous, and I try not to scrunch my nose in disgust.
I finally look at Hiro. He appears anxious. Hands knotted on the table, leaning in and searching my eyes for approval. “Is this okay?”
I smile broadly and gesture wildly with my hands, drawing attention from the other patrons. “This is more than okay. It’s magical!”
His eyebrows rise, and he shakes his head. “You’re something else, Kite.”
I take it as a compliment.
We are thrown some menus. I let Hiro order for us because I’ve never eaten Chinese food before, and I have no idea what any of it is. He orders egg rolls and pork chop suey and two cokes.
The server places chopsticks in front of Hiro and a fork in front of me.
It’s the first separation, and I try not to make anything of it. Hiro’s eyes darken one shade, and I look up at the small woman with a smile. “Can I try the chopsticks?”
She bows fast, then comes back with chopsticks.
There’s no lifting the small slip of darkness in his eyes, but it doesn’t bother me. I know this is the world we live in. We are an odd pair. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be together. We stand out. We are the bold pattern amongst a pile of beiges and neutrals. I think it makes us beautiful and unique. I know he thinks these things, too, but with the added painting of a target on our backs.
Hiro Loves Kite Page 10