by Mia Garcia
The blank page stared at him like a dare. Past-Ryan would fill pages and pages of doodles, but all Present-Ryan could think of was how he was about to ruin a perfectly good blank page.
“Nervous?” his teacher said—it took him a moment to realize she was talking to everyone. “Just breathe in. No need to shit your pants on day one.”
Another nervous laugh.
“Okay. Go!”
His pen touched the paper—it was already in the wrong place—it should be higher to start with the bigger ball to accommodate the smaller ones. He stared at the arrangement, cataloging all he needed to do: shadows, framing, perspective.
“Time,” she called.
The smudge was all Ryan had. He didn’t look around at everyone else’s work. It would all be better than a damn smudge. He dove in this time with the biggest of the four, sketching the circle. It was lopsided, and he wanted to rip the paper in half. As he added the third circle she called time.
Another blank page waiting to be filled with his lopsided scratches. He rolled his wrist and closed his eyes for just a moment. He heard her call time again, but he would not let it unfocus him. He let his wrist draw the circles as it wished; they did not overlap as much as they should have, but all four were on the paper. He added some shadows.
“Time.”
Not perfect, but less wobbly. He only looked up once before starting each circle to check on perspective, letting the pen glide on the paper. If it faltered or wobbled as it curved he stopped noticing, or more accurately he didn’t let it bother him.
“Time.”
Sharper lines, the pen barely lifting from the paper. He played more with perspective now, cared less about how clean the work was. His hand did not shake, and he held the pen loose enough to let the wrist do all the work. Several times he forgot to look up and focused on the feel of pen against paper and the delicious sound it made as it glided across it. His eyes focused on the paper absorbing the ink, blooming as the circle came to life.
He wondered if he could switch pens to test each tip out on the page.
“Okay!” Her voice pulled him out of the trance. He looked up from the page, remembering where he was again. “Excellent work for your first day. I know it seems like we didn’t do much, but take a look at that first try and the final one. Take a moment.”
Ryan laughed at the smudge on his first page—if that didn’t say anything about his approach to painting over the last year he didn’t know what. Could you even see it if you weren’t looking for it? Compared to his final pages, the smudge was nonexistent while the final page was someone whose body—maybe—was starting to listen to him; a passion that maybe hadn’t abandoned him after all.
He tried to think back to the last time he’d been so absorbed with something that the passage of time was nonexistent, and all he could think of was the afternoons with Jason.
“Before you leave I have an assignment for you: trees.”
Okay . . .
“You heard me: trees. Seven of them. I want seven sketches of trees, in pen, just simple sketches. Can be seven of the same tree, different perspectives please, or seven different trees, whatever, you get it, okay? Great. See you Saturday.”
They all shuffled off, a few sticking behind to chat. Ryan waited outside for his dad to pick him up, going over the sketches one more time. It’d felt good to get lost again on the page. Even to feel the frustration when he hadn’t gotten something quite right. Why had he put this away?
But it was hard, wasn’t it? To choose between the two: Jason and his art. To pull himself away from Jason’s arms when it was so much easier to hold on. And his painting wasn’t Jason’s thing. Art in general wasn’t Jason’s thing. While Ryan could spend hours studying brushstrokes at the Denver Art Museum, Jason was never interested in coming along.
“I’ll just come over when you’re done,” he’d say.
“But there’s a new exhibit I want to show you. I actually think you might like it because—”
Jason shook his head. “You know I can’t focus in museums for very long.”
He’d never told him how much it hurt him.
Ryan’s phone vibrated.
Jess: How did it go?
She’d texted outside the group chat that went back to the age of Methuselah. She was being cautious, in case Ryan didn’t want to talk to everyone.
Ryan: Good.
Jess: Actually good or are you being facetious?
Ryan: Facetious? I love you so much.
Jess: ♥ Seriously, how did it go?
Ryan: Like . . . I don’t know, I thought it would be beginnery (is that even a word?) but . . . ugh, words. I’m trying to say it felt fine, it didn’t suck.
Which was as close as he could get to describing the feeling that the years he’d shoved it aside weren’t as unforgivable as he thought.
There was a tap on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Blake.
“So?” he asked. “How’d it go?”
“I survived.” Ryan looked back down as Blake sat next to him, his beat-up Chucks almost matching Ryan’s for wear.
Blake’s hands, paint-stained shirt, and jeans were covered in new specks of clay. “Sculpting—new to it, but I really like the feel of it, you know?”
Ryan reached over, picking off a flake of clay from Blake’s clothes, realizing afterward he shouldn’t have assumed the familiarity. “I’ve always wanted to try it,” he said.
“Yeah—I think you’d like it.” He smiled. “Now if I can just get the clay to look like the shit in my head.”
“Said every artist ever.”
“True. Feels like whenever I do it’s an accident—there’s a lesson in there somewhere, but I refuse to learn it.” He smiled again, which was getting more and more charming. “Need a ride? We can maybe get some coffee on the way and talk about how much our art wants to kill us.”
Ryan was surprised by how much he wanted to. Even just talking about art with someone who got it sounded nice. “Maybe next time? My dad is on his way to pick me up.”
Blake nodded. “Sexy—see you next week for a totally platonic coffee date after class then?”
Ryan laughed. “Sure. It’s a platonic date.”
Lee
SO TURNS OUT the center hadn’t been sucked down into the pits of hell after a freak sinkhole accident.
Bummer.
Lee was not a fan of the community center. True, neither were Jess, Nora, or Ryan, but it reminded Lee of a particularly vulnerable time that loved to kick its way to the surface whenever she visited.
But Jess couldn’t get away and had begged Lee to meet her here for their first Spanish lesson, so here she was. Lee braced for whatever was to come, the memory of her first visit bubbling to the surface.
It had been less than a year after her mother’s death, and Lee was an open wound.
Unease rose along her spine as she walked through the entrance. It was colder than it should be, or maybe Lee was just nervous. She tugged her jacket around her like it could save her from everything inside.
“¡Mira quién es!” The old woman who usually greeted people came around her little station toward Lee. Lee took a step, trying to place her. Had she been one of the many to pepper her with questions? Had she asked Lee if she spoke Spanish only to look at her with disappointment when she’d said only a little?
Lee braced herself as the woman approached her then put a hand on her shoulder. Lee still couldn’t place her, and by her smile the old woman knew it.
“¿No te acuerdas de mí?”
Which one were you? Which way was I not enough for you?
She shook her head. “Sorry, I mean, perdón.”
“No te preocupes, Francheska.”
“Lee,” she corrected.
“Ines.” The woman smiled, bringing her in for a hug so warm it made Lee wonder if she had met her before. Her warm brown eyes held no judgment that she could see, and she seemed genuinely happy to see Lee.
“It’s,” s
he said, pausing between each word, “good to see you.”
Lee nodded and offered a bit of a smile before indicating there was somewhere she needed to be.
“Jessica esta con su madre en la oficina,” Ines said, giving Lee’s shoulder a squeeze and returning to the front table. Was there even an official greeter position at the center, or did Ines just show up each day without asking? Lee was certain it was the second.
Inside, the center was less shabby than she remembered. The walls were repainted, the bookshelves filled with the new (but used) books Jess had bought, even the announcement board looked less of a mess. Lee knew, somehow, that this was all Jess.
They didn’t deserve her.
Her father had meant well. The center was supposed to be a way to keep in touch with her mother’s culture, instead each question in Spanish she couldn’t answer fast enough was a fresh cut.
Speaking of Jess, she found her in the office as Ines said, but deep in conversation with her mother.
Not wanting to interrupt, she texted her to say she would wait for her by the mini library, which was also home to the super-comfy chairs. She picked the biggest one and sank into it. The chair engulfed her. She’d sat here on the first day, too—after the barrage of questions she’d retreated to this corner and sent her aunt a text.
Can I come stay with you? I’m not sure I can do this.
Her aunt’s response was quick:
I have no doubt you can.
“Hey.” David plopped down in the chair beside her, and she snapped out of the memory.
“Hey,” she replied, attempting to straighten but not having much luck in the chair.
“Waiting for Jess?”
“Yeah—first lesson.”
“That’s today?” David had better luck with his chair and shifted to get a better view of Lee. It made Lee want to look away but smile at the same time. He’d cut his hair short, only leaving the slightest hint of his curls at the top.
“Yep.”
“Cool.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah.” His dark-brown eyes followed her fingers as she tied her own loose curls back up in a messy knot. “Now you can curse properly.”
“I’m not sure that’s on the lesson plan,” Lee said, wondering why everything about her was so interesting, “and those words, I already know.”
“Don’t let her fool you.” He leaned in, the sleeves of his long sleeve shirt pushed up showing his tawny skin and dark hair that ran along his arms. “She curses like a sailor, especially recently.”
“Really?” Trying to find anywhere else to look but his eyes, she noticed a message from Jess saying she would be there in ten minutes, twenty minutes ago. So unlike her.
“Here she comes.”
Jess sat down, looking as deflated as the chair she sat on.
“Rough day?” Both Lee and David shifted their attention to Jess, except for the few moments where Lee couldn’t help but sneak looks. Each time something new drew her eye, like how his fingers kept busy, or the way his eyes also flicked back to her, catching her looking.
But when Jess finally spoke Lee’s attention snapped back, this time not wavering. “Mom wants me to do all the kiddie story times over the summer.”
Oh God. Lee might not be a regular at the center, but she knew from Jess’s stories and the one time Nora came in for some catering event that kiddie story times were the seventh circle of hell. Maybe Jess’s mom meant Mandarin story time at the TAA? Ryan said those were pretty fun . . . but probably not.
“Yikes,” David said. “Didn’t you just help with some SAT prep stuff? Did you say no?”
Jess glanced at Lee, who cringed just a bit. “No, I said yes.”
Of course she would say yes. Not only was non-resolution Jessica always willing to help, but resolution Jessica seemed to be a beacon for new responsibilities. This was not what the resolution was about. Jess didn’t need more responsibility, she needed less.
“That’s the worst job. I would rather clean the toilets than be on story-time duty.”
David was not helping.
“It just takes a little reshuffling,” Jess said, though it felt like she was saying it more to herself than Lee. She tapped some things into her phone, then looked up at Lee. “I might have to adjust our lessons, pero”—she took a breath and smiled—“everything will be okay.”
Lee really wanted to believe her, but she recognized that smile. She’d had that same smile on plenty of times. She was that same scared-and-out-of-her-depth when Ryan and Jess found her hiding from everyone at the center years ago and sealed their friendship.
Lee still remembered how tall Jess was even back then.
“You okay?” She’d crouched down beside her.
“Fine.” Lee had smiled that smile that was so easy for her after years of practice, as her mom got sicker and helping hands became annoying hands.
“Don’t let them get to you,” Ryan had said, extending his hand. “They tried the same are-you-Latino-enough shit on us all the time until my mom ripped them to shreds.” When she didn’t take his hand he sat down next to her. “I’m Ryan, the half-Boricua, half-Taiwanese, one hundred percent gay boy you’ll probably hear about eventually. You can imagine the field day they had with me. Jess saw you run in here, and we thought we should say hi.”
“I’m Jessica,” Jess had said, flanking Lee on the other side. “I don’t have a cool introduction, but you can call me Jess.”
“Somewhere in this place is a girl named Nora,” Ryan continued. “And we are the coolest people here, who also don’t give a fuck. Want to be friends?”
And they’d meant it. They’d met her one day, and they’d flanked around her the rest of the day, keeping the curious people with their questions at bay. She still remembered how Jess would turn the conversation on them. Anyone who came to ask Lee about her mom quickly found themselves talking about their dog or hadn’t their son gotten into trouble recently? But that’s who they were; that’s who Jess was.
So, yeah—she recognized the smile on Jess now, and she’d be damned if she was the cause of it.
“Jess, you don’t have to—”
“No. I want to, I promise,” Jess tried again, but Lee could still see the strain, the hint of worry. She wondered if Jess even knew she might be spreading herself too thin? Lee had to figure out how to show her that the resolutions were meant to loosen her up, not wind her tighter.
“You have a lot going on,” Lee tried again.
“I made a lesson plan already.” She pulled out the pages to prove it—there were many.
“You did that for me?”
Jess smiled, a genuine one this time. “Of course.”
Guilt mixed with happiness at the thought of all the work Jess had put into Lee’s resolution. I have no doubt you can, her aunt had said. She had a feeling that Jess would agree.
“Gracias.”
“Knock that one off the vocab list,” David said, reminding Jess he was still there. “How about I take over? I’d be happy to help.” He plucked the lesson plan from Jess’s shocked face and looked it over. “Detailed. As expected.”
The shock faded fast, and Jess reached for the papers. David moved them out of her reach and turned to Lee with a quirk of his lips as his twin tried to snag the papers back. “You game?”
What was it about that smile? Why was she just noticing now?
“Okay.” Lee surprised herself, and Jess, who stopped midreach.
“Really?” David didn’t hide his amusement.
“But . . . ,” Jess sputtered.
“Jess.” Lee knew Jess would feel bad, but she also knew her friend would continue to take on responsibility with no regard for herself, and Lee simply wouldn’t let that happen. True, there was the bonus of getting to nerd out a bit more with David—their party conversation had been pretty great—and his laid-back attitude would give her a chance to figure out how to show Jess what her resolutions were truly for. “Let this one go, okay? You a
ren’t letting me down, I swear.”
“I—” Jess took a breath, looking back down to her phone. Lee realized she was reviewing the epic calendar that held every moment of Jess’s life. She exhaled and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Awesome.” David stuffed the paper in his bag and stood. “I’ll email you tonight and we can work out when to start.”
With a hug Jess returned to the office and whatever task awaited her. Lee really needed to do something to help Jess with her resolutions. To show her how fun they could be. How fun she could be. To be the friend Jess was to her on the day they’d met. Could she do it?
I have no doubt you can.
Jess
JESS WAS DEEP into her history notes when Ryan sat next to her in the cafeteria, followed by Nora, Beth, and Lee. She did not look up, focusing on repeating dates in her mind, making them stick one more time. Finals week had snuck up on her fast, and with her work at the center plus prepping for the SATs, she didn’t feel as prepared as she usually was. But it was fine. Stress was normal, wasn’t it? Out of the corner of her eye she caught Ryan taking one of her baby carrots, then another, then finally her entire tray.
She rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth tilting up, but still she needed to push through one final revision. If her grades slipped even a bit . . . no. She couldn’t think of that. Everything would be fine.
“Jess.” Ryan leaned in. “Earth to Jessica.”
His hand slipped into view, blocking her notes. “Okay, okay,” she said, closing her eyes and repeating the key dates one more time.
You’ll be fine, she repeated, though more and more she wondered if she was right. She didn’t want to blame the resolution, but it did feel like she had less and less time to think. Think less, maybe that was the key.
“Jess?” Ryan tried again.
“Sorry.” She finally looked up. “Finals week is just getting to me. Plus the SATs are seconds away and—”
“All I see you do is study, Jess.” Ryan slid back her tray, and she munched on a baby carrot. “You’ll be fine.”
She nodded. She would be, wouldn’t she?