All The Things We Never Said

III

Noa

    My room is too warm when I wake up to the sound of my aunt and uncle laughing in the kitchen. It's nearing ten now, so they must have just gotten home. I crack a window open to let in fresh air, sitting near my windowsill and gazing out at the night sky to gain a sense of normalcy. I hate that groggy feeling you get when you wake up from an afternoon nap, and even after you check the time and date to make sure you're not crazy, you still feel as if you slept a whole day and you're waking up the next night.
I hadn't even meant to fall asleep. Kai and I were laying side by side on my bed, brainstorming project ideas and munching on a five star feast of sun chips and apple slices. That's where my eyes started getting heavy.
     I flipped the TV on for background noise, and a show managed to steal both of our attention. Not Grey's Anatomy, but similar hospital show where all of the doctors are fucking in empty rooms instead of saving lives. I don't remember what time I woke up to Kai's whispered voice telling me he forgot something and had to go. I didn't check. I was still sleepy, so I hazily thanked him for chilling with me, and tucked myself under my blankets.
It was nice to finally have my first guest over, even if we didn't do much of anything, and accomplished almost nothing on our project. He's good company, though I'm still working on getting him to talk more. I can sense that he's shy, though that's not exactly a mind blowing observation.
     It's clear in the way he always directed the conversation back to me as often as he could, and how he can't hold eye contact for more than five seconds at a time. By nature, I'm always questioning people's motives, even when I appear friendly and warm, but there's something non vthreatening about Kai, something gentle and approachable. I hate to generalize, but it's becoming more rare in young guys.
It was the first time in a while that I felt completely comfortable around someone my age, where I didn't feel like the person I was sitting in front of was either sizing me up like competition, or plotting ways to get me to fuck them. It was just... normal.
Now slightly cooled off from the heat of my heavy duvet and the stuffy air n my bedroom, I stand and stretch, turning my tv off and padding out into the hallway. A flash of black and white hair pops into view behind the glass of the side door, and I shuffle over on socked feet to let in the other resident stray. He scratches manically at the door as I approach, as if he's been locked out all day when he we both know he has free will to come and go as he pleases through the doggy door in the kitchen.
"Sunshine!" I drop to the floor, and the Border Collie waddles in, plopping down next to me. Cuddling in the hallway is a daily tradition of ours. I scratch his oversized ears and he nuzzles my neck, giving me his version of kisses by pushing his wet nose against my chin. I never had a dog of my own, because my mom was scared of dogs, so she lied and told us kids she was allergic. That didn't stop me from instantly falling in love with my aunt and uncles three year old rescue.
"Hey girly," aunt Gloria calls from the kitchen. Sunshine leads the way, wagging her tail ecstatically. My aunt sits at the kitchen table chopping salad ingredients, while uncle Mike stands in front of the stove, tending to a sizzling pan.
"Darlin', you're gonna want to use a serrated knife for those tomatoes," Mike tells her, but she waves him off.
"It will all taste the same my love. No need to dirty another knife." She smiles brightly at me. "Nice nap? I came to check on you when we got home but you looked so cozy I didn't want to wake you."
"Do you guys need any help?"
"We'd love some," she pushes out the chair next to her for me, and puts me to work on cutting and separating a head of lettuce to wash.
"Sorry it's so late kiddo, but dinner should be ready soon. We're having stir fry with the veggies we got from the farmers market today. I sure wish you hadn't had to go to class today. You would have loved it."
"I bet I would have. I'll go with you guys next time." My aunt and uncle are the most endearing people I've ever met. Now that their mortgage is paid off and they are retired, they spend their days doing whatever pleases them. Sometimes it's trips to the beach, or to hear live music, or their favorite, scouring garage sales for vintage treasures you can't find in store.
     They are the only example of real, unconditional love I've ever seen. No adventure together is anything but fabulous and exciting, even trips to the bank or grocery store. They are never apart, and I wonder if I could ever grow to love someone the way they love each other.
It's not hard to see why they are so happy. The few arguments they do have are so infrequent it's almost alarming, and so calm and rational that they should hardly count as fights at all, at least not compared to what I'm used to.
     I think the recipe to their success is simple enough. They still hug and kiss often, even after decades of marriage. They perform acts of service for one another without being asked or nagged, and without keeping track of who owes who what. They share responsibilities evenly, and without regard to annoying, outdated gender roles. He adores her, she dotes on him. Like I said, the recipe is simple, but somehow still hard to replicate.
"What did you do all afternoon?" Aunt Gloria asks, and for a split second I consider lying and saying I spent it alone. Then I remember that lying is unnecessary, and that she's not asking to interrogate me, but just out of curiosity, for conversation.
"I had a friend from school over. We got assigned a project in Public Speaking so we worked on that a little." If I were back home, and this were me talking to my mom, she'd be furious. She'd scream at me about how disrespectful I am for having someone in her house while she's not home. She'd be looking to her spineless husband to back her up and she thought up a punishment to dole out for my disrespect. She'd threaten to start charging me more for rent, since I think I have control of the house. "I hope that's okay. I'll ask next time before I bring someone over."
"This is your home now doll." She pats the back of my hand lovingly. "You don't have to ask to have someone over. Anyone you trust, we trust too." She saunters over to the sink and washes the romaine lettuce under the cold water before dumping it into a waiting bowl of ice.
"Was your friend from school a boy?"
"Oh Michael!" Aunt Gloria reaches over to swat his arm. "You nosy little man. You mind your business."
"Sweetheart, I have to attempt to play the roll of the protective uncle." He sets his spatula on the utensil tray in the middle of the stove. "She's a super model Gloria. If I don't we're gonna have a real problem on our hands."
Again, I'm too aware how different this conversation would be if Mike was my stepdad, and it makes my stomach twist. Firstly, he'd be piss drunk by this time of night, probably eyeing me down like I'm on trial while he takes swigs from a liquor bottle. His question of wether or not my guest was a boy wouldn't have been accompanied by a cheeky grin, but a deep, accusing scowl instead. He'd warn that I better be keeping my legs closed, and that I'd better not bring boys into the house.
I shudder, reminding myself that I'm not there anymore. I can't keep letting those assholes permeate my mood, making me anxious for no reason when they are both hundreds of miles away, sitting with the knowledge that I never want to see either of them again.
"It was a boy, but we just met today in class. It was strictly academic." I flash him a smile and he leans against the counter, eyes crinkling at the corners behind his glasses.
"Well just in case things move past academia," he smiles giddily as Gloria side eyes him with a smirk of her own. "This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you that if he ever makes you cry, I'll bury him alive in the backyard."
"As if the man who still cries during Forest Gump has it in him to bury someone," Aunt Gloria cackles, throwing a clean dish towel over her shoulder.
"Darn it Gloria, now I'm talking dangerous and you're gonna ruin it." He throws his hands up, and I cover a laugh with my hands, shaking my head at their easy banter. "And you're making me burn my dang broccoli." He shuffles back to the stove and stirs the steaming pan, scraping the bottom to free any bits that have stuck to the pan.
Aunt Gloria suggests we have dinner out on the patio table, never missing an opportunity for a candlelight dinner under the moon. We carry the serving plates out together. Just as we are about to sit down to eat, Uncle Mike jumps back up muttering about something he forgot, returning with three glasses and a bottle of red wine. He plucks the cork out with a wine opener, filling two glasses with an even amount. He pours a much smaller amount into the third, and winks before handing it over to me.
One of the things I like best about my aunt and uncle, is that they treat me like an adult, even though by a lot of people standards, I'm still a teenager. They have half a glass of white or red wine a couple nights a week with dinner, and I was surprised when one night, my aunt Gloria offered some to me. They both chuckled at my hesitant expression, promising that it wasn't a test or a trap, and I wouldn't be in any trouble for taking the glass.
Kids in some European household start drinking glasses of wine with dinner as young as twelve or thirteen, Uncle Mike told me. No kidding. It's just not a big deal most places. Now I'm not one to condone underaged partying, but America is one of the only countries in the world plagued by a drinking epidemic, while simultaneously putting such an emphasis on young adults waiting to drink until they are twenty one. Now that to me, is counterproductive.
Now I know some people would shudder at them letting me drink at nineteen, call them irresponsible and reckless, foolish for contributing to something that could potentially become a dangerous addiction, but I think it's pretty fucking smart of them.
      Without ever having kids of their own, they somehow understand what most parents don't, that strict parenting makes for sneaky children. Constant control, and an endless list of rules and activities that are off limits, only sweetens the temptation and makes kids want to do the forbidden thing more. It's why I spent the better part of high school waking up with splitting hangovers, throwing up brightly colored mixes of all the different alcohol I drank the night before.
I've lost my taste for drinking like that, but to have an occasional glass of wine with my aunt and uncle has become part of my routine. I like being included in their conversations while we all sip and eat. It's like a silent agreement between me and them that I'm not some silly child, that they view me as their equal who is mature enough to make my own decisions. Besides, it's not like they are letting me guzzle whole bottles, or handing me hard liquor.
"So if this boy from class doesn't strike your fancy, are there any other special guys we should know about?" Always concerned about my vitamin and nutrient intake, Uncle Mike serves me up a huge helping of salad.
"Boy, you are just hellbent in embarrassing this poor girl tonight," Aunt Gloria shakes her head at her husband, giving me an apologetic glance. "You don't have to answer his questions Noa. A girl is allowed to have her secrets."
"I'm not asking for every detail of her private life," he stabs a piece of broccoli with his fork, holding his hand up innocently. "I just want my niece to have a good social life, and I wouldn't mind a nice young man coming and taking her out on a date. Now is that so wrong of me?" That makes me snort. I can't say I consider any of the outings I've been on with boys to be real dates, at least not by my standards, which aren't even unreasonably high by the way.
"That's sweet Uncle Mike, but I think the nice young men you're talking about are in pretty short supply. The dating scene is a little different from when you and aunt Gloria met." Aunt Gloria nods understandingly. I'm sure even in her day, she had to deal with pigs before she found her Prince Charming.
"Well," he adjusts his glasses on his face. "That's not what I was hoping to hear. I'm afraid to ask now, but what does a young man your age consider a nice date, in your opinion?"
"Well," I copy his favorite way to start a sentence, taking a small sip of wine. "I can only really speak from my own experience, so let's see." I pretend to prod my memory for an example, though I couldn't forget my last date if I tried, and not because it was a romantic, magical night filled with passion and butterflies.
     "The last date I went on was back in Arizona, with a boy I'd had a crush on all through high school. He picked me up, an hour later than we agreed on." Uncle Mike's fork drops to his plate with a loud clank. I've only just begun, and already, he's shaking his head in disappointment. "He said he was going to take me to dinner, but wanted to drive around and listen to music for a while first. It was maybe another hour and a half later, before I realized that we weren't going to dinner and that this drive was in fact the date."
I study his expression with an amused grin. To me, that was pretty predictable behavior, nothing I wasn't used to from guys before this one. To my uncle, it's nothing short of a travesty, an affront to love and gentlemen everywhere. He seems to be in physical pain as he folds his hands under his chin, looking like he's praying for the strength to get through the rest of my story.
"Then he finally pulls over and parks on this hilltop, that would have been a nice view were that view not completely obstructed by trees and a construction sight. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe he just prefers a more private setting when he's getting to know someone, and then he just reaches over and tries to shove his hands under my shirt, so I punched him in the face and called my brother to pick me up."
"Good girl," my aunt shakes her head, looking deeply disturbed.
"Well, normally I wouldn't support violence, but I sure am glad you're a tough one. I say he deserved it, the rotten weasel." Uncle Mike scrunches up his nose, wiping at his mouth with a cloth napkin. "What is it with these young boys these days? I hate the term chivalry is dead, but damn it, it is."
"What about the boy from your class? The one you had over today," Aunt Gloria slips in, trying to be nonchalant about it. "Whats he like?"
"He's really nice actually. Like I said, I don't know him well, but I can't picture him ever doing anything like that. He's really shy, and kind of awkward in like an endearing way."
The corners of my mouth twitch up as I realize I've been absentmindedly studying a Kai since the start of the semester. He keeps to himself, and always has a huge set of headphones on with his laptop open before the start of class. When class is over and we all start filing out, he holds the door open for people, politely smiling and standing there for as long as it takes for a string of students to relieve him of his door duties.
     He's always the first to offer up his school supplies when someone forgot a pen or needs a highlighter for notes. He's one of the few guys in class that doesn't stare at Professor Valdiviez's tits, or let his eyes linger on her ass when she turns turns her back to us to face the board.
Chivalrous comes to mind, when I think of his actions today. He went along with my lie, allowing himself to be roped into a partnership with me so I wouldn't have to pair up with Cash. He saved me again by letting Cash believe he'd already offered me a ride home, then actually made good on that cover so that I wouldn't have I take the bus.
     It's a self inflicted hassle seeing as how my aunt and uncle have assured me they don't mind taking me to and from school, but I insist on taking the bus because I don't want I disrupt their schedules. Still, it was so nice of Kai to offer me a ride when he didn't have to.
I could really use someone like him in my life, someone genuine, with no hidden intentions. I know he's that guy, because we fell asleep in my bed next to each other, and nothing else happened, nothing creepy or out of pocket. He kept to his side so much so, that there wouldn't have been a possibility of us even accidentally touching while we slept. A gentleman, one my aunt and uncle would probably be proud for me to date, but that's not even where my head is. I don't want or need that. I just need a friend.