Little Secrets

Chapter 2

The walk home was quiet and awkward. The only time we spoke was when he asked to carry my groceries, which he politely carried my groceries the whole way. His apartment was only 2 streets down so it wasn’t a particularly long walk for a New Yorker. We stopped in front of a 3 story red brick building. François pressed a little tan button next to an old peeling strip of tape with his name on it. A few seconds passed, the buzzer and unlocking lock could be heard. Opening the door, he held the door signaling me to go first. Inside there was a staircase leading to a door and then to another staircase surrounded by wall. Our feet thumped up the wooden steps. It was hot and damp in this crammed hallway. With the sound of juggling keys and a pine door, my eyes met a cooler and sunnier sight. He once again made me walk in first. The smell of beer and fresh laundry hit me as soon as I walked in. It was a weird combination but it fit François so well. Peering around, I could see some of the things from his room five years ago splashed everyway. That same blue cushioned loveseat, that same acoustic guitar with the use to be broken neck; he even painted the room close to the color of his old bedroom room. There were also my paintings. The one I painted of him lying on that blue couch and playing guitar, the one of his little sister blowing bubbles in the neighborhood park. Why would he keep those silly paintings I made for him? Turning to him, he was busy putting my ice cream into her freezer.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yea, sure.”

He pulled out a box of firecracker popsicles. A smirk shifted on my lips. In high school, François could have lived on those things. I guess some people never change. His eyes didn’t leave the box even when I spoke to him.

“Why did you keep my paintings?”

Now the contents on the back of the popsicle box were forgotten as he looked at me.

“Because I like them and you made them for me, I couldn’t just toss them out.”

He placed the box on the brown marble counter next to him. He walked up next to me, gazing at the paintings. I wondered what he was thinking. The rise of the corners of his mouth told me it was good thoughts.

“You didn’t have to keep them. They aren’t that great.”

That’s when he took his heads and put them on my shoulders, twisting me around to face him. He glared at me with complete seriousness.

“You’re an amazing painter Mano, don’t sale yourself so short.”

It seemed as though he didn’t notice how close to me he was. I tried to back away but his coffee table didn’t allow me to. Taking his hand, I put it back to his side and wiggled my way out to a farther distance. It was time to get on with this talk. What felt like a sweet memory now felt uncomfortable.

“Okay, can you please tell me what you wanted to tell me so I can leave?”

His hands were now on his hips as he slowly turned to me. To anyone who didn’t know him, I’m sure he’d come across menacing.

“I just thought you should know why I didn’t say goodbye when I left for college.”

Five years ago, we both know that out relationship couldn’t last since he was going back home to Cannes for college and I was going to New York. That didn’t help me not fall in love with him, and it definitely didn’t make it hurt any less when he left out to France without one goodbye. Where was he with this information then?

“Well, out with it.”

Stretching out his arm to the couch, he offered me a seat which I took. He began with an inhale.

“You know my parents didn’t really like you, so it got harder to see you once I was leaving for college since we were all packing to leave. They didn’t let me out of their sight. That’s why it got harder to see you those last 2 weeks.”

“That never stopped you before. You never cared what your parents thought of me.”

“I know and I still don’t but around that time, my cousin got really ill with cancer so we had to leave in a hurry because there was no one to take care of her. I made a trip back with my dad to get the rest of our things but by the time I came back, you were gone.”

“Oh my gosh, is she okay?”

“Yea, she’s alright. They caught it early which really helped. She’s almost clear of it.”

Stupidity and humiliation filled my body.

“You still could have called.”

“I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did, plenty of times.”

He was completely austere. Did he really call? I looked away from him, slapping my hand on my forehead.

“You mean I was mad at you this whole time for nothing.”

I groaned, sinking my head to my knees. Guilt rose up to my throat. His cousin was sick, of course he wasn’t thinking about me. I felt so stupid.

“Not completely, I still didn’t say goodbye.”

“Your cousin was sick! You didn’t have time to care about a little goodbye to me.”

He started chuckling. My embarrassment heightened. Still laughing, he put an arm around my back and petted my shoulder.

“You don’t have to feel guilty. I should have said something to you sooner.”

His laughing was infectious. Looking up to him, I started giggling at the whole situation. All those years of heart break for a miscommunication. My giggling came to a halt when a thought entered my brain.

“Why did you come to New York?”

His chuckling stopped by the smile on his face didn’t decrease.

“To see if I could find you.”

“Why? By the look of things, you were here for a while. You said we were only a fling, why would you want to find me?”

It took him a moment to answer, like he was thinking it over himself.

“It may have been a fling, but it was the greatest fling I’ve ever had.”

I was silenced. He scared me for a minute. I thought I was crazy to think that he felt the same way I did. There’s nothing worst than loving someone who doesn’t love you back.

“You’re so corny.”

His smile grew wider. This was shaping out to be a good day.