The Journal of Beatrice Grace Parker

Q-and-A

He did come to the park, just as I had known he would. He smiled as we spotted each other, and I smiled back, without hesitations or headaches. (See, I am getting good at putting ‘I’ instead of ‘we’)

This time, the smile didn’t feel creepy. It felt nice to have someone with whom I wouldn’t have to pretend. There were only two such people in my life. Dr. Russell and Theo. Not Mom, sadly. She was still struggling to come to terms with my reality herself, and so I have to pretend a bit for her convenience. I owe it to her for trying to take everything in her stride.

So Theo and I made our way to a bench and sat down to talk. At first we were both quiet, not knowing how to start. Before the silence got awkward, Theo said – “So which of you is at home?” and we cracked into a smile.

“It’s not that way. It’s more of a situation-dependent thing. Kind of like Beatrice could write an acerbic and spicy critique, but couldn’t look at a jump-rope in the face. Grace, on the other hand would fill her essay with ‘sweet’ and ‘awesome’ as the only available adjectives, but could bungee jump right away if we had the equipment and the right setting.” I was amused at having to explain things this way. I sighed.

"What?" he was quick to catch the sigh.

"Sometimes I think life is not worth all the trouble." I mused.

We exchanged sad smiles. That had me wondering whether he'd ever been sad enough to understand what I meant. If he had, I couldn't imagine why. I hardly knew this boy. And yet he made me want to trust him, because he'd not told on me. He'd guarded my secret without asking for anything in return.

“Can we play a game?” he said, presently.

“Game?” both the parts of me were puzzled.

“Yes. I ask you a question. Tell you my answer to it. You tell me your answer to it. Then you ask a question, and we take turns. I guess I just want to know you better. I have nothing to offer in return but information about myself. So, are you ready to share?” he said, trying to explain his intentions.

Did I mind? No. Because my biggest, deepest, darkest secrets were already known to him. So I shrugged. He smiled, raising his eyebrows slightly. I think he found that I had accepted his idea much more easily than he’d expected.

“An obvious one first, I think. What’s your favourite colour? Mine’s black.”

“I like black. And Navy Blue and Turquoise.” I smiled. The split personality was playing up. “Do you like to read books? I love to read. I mean Beatrice does. I read a lot of fantasy and fiction.”

“Ummm… I love to read myself. And I guess nothing beats good fiction. As long as it’s not cheesy.” He made a mock-grimace, which I think I reflected, but I was too busy listening to him to actually notice it. Then he continued with his question, “Do you like any sport? I like to play basketball, which you already know. I also like to swim.”

So he remembered that I knew he plays basketball. I had only mentioned it once at the beginning of the journal. “I think Grace would like to swim, if I knew how. I guess Beatrice has never been a sporty person. Now that you mention it, I think I will give myself a chance. What’s one weird habit you have, apart from creepy smile, that is?” here I had to break off to give us time to laugh it off. “I have a lot of weird habits. I’m guessing you know most of them. But I’m sure you don’t know one. I always always always have to have exactly two of Mom’s feather-light marshmallows in my super-frothy coffee every morning. And they have to be sky blue.”

“Sky blue? That’s kinda weird and adorable at the same time… like you.” He said, with sudden sweetness. I did have a friend here. I grinned.

“You can’t avoid answering.” I teased.

“Yeah, right… I thought I could get away with it” he shrugged, mock-sheepishly.

I punched him lightly on the arm.

“Oww!” he pretended like it hurt. I stuck out my tongue. He pulled at my plait and quickly ran, too fast for me to catch up with his basketballer pumping legs. He did get away with evading my question after all.