CECE, DISRESPECTFULLY | ✓

66: TIME WEARS DOWN ALRIGHT, BUT IT DOESN'T WEAR OUT

            I grab my backpack from the side of the bed. 'I got ya summat.' Easing out a square slab wrapped in pastel pink paper, I hand it to her.

Diwa looks caught somewhere between fight and flight. 'Why?'

'To manipulate you into being my mate.' I roll my eyes when the justification don't satisfy and thrust the gift at her. 'Cause you're my mate.'

Her stare flicks between me and the present. Finally, Diwa reaches with both hands and takes it from me.

I expected her to carefully peel off each strip of tape and unfold the corners without a single tear, but once the gift is in her hold, she grabs the paper from the centre and rips it off in one go. Below is a vinyl LP of Germ Free Adolescents by X-Ray Specs.

'Now you've got five records,' I say. 'That's officially a collection.'

Her lips don't even twitch. Maybe she hates it. Does she hate it?

Fuck.

Just as I'm about to start chewing my fingernails, Diwa pulls me into another hug. The record slides off her lap and onto the floor.

Good to know she's gonna treat it with care. I'm never wasting Nikki's money on her again.

'Thank you.'

My arms are locked to my sides so I have a go at, sort of, patting her elbow. 'Don't mention it.'

Diwa pulls away and picks the album up before scooting to the middle of her bed where she can sit cross-legged. There, she stares at it. I watch her gaze prod at every detail, a flutter in my chest.

There's an ominous mist over her eyes when she finally looks up. I really fucking hope she don't start crying.

Yeah, I'm tryna be better at the whole human emotions shit, but that don't mean I'm suddenly a fucking councillor. I still reckon at least ninety percent of feelings are useless.

Maybe it's just that I've no clue how to respond to them. I could google.

Nah... That's fucking weird.

'Thank you for being my friend,' Diwa says, tracing the test tubes on the album cover. 'You've helped me a lot with the queer stuff. You, existing, so unapologetically queer but not hating me for the fact I'm not... there yet. It means a lot.'

'Happy to not be a total waste for once.'

It don't come out as the witty tension relief I intended. I grimace and crawl up the bed to sit across from her.

'Will you go on a second date? With Annabella,' I add, as if Diwa has recently been courting a flock of women.

'I don't want a girlfriend who talks about my friends like that.'

My chest warms and, horribly, as do my cheeks.

'Everyone talks about me like that,' I say after I've had a think about it. 'I've done it on purpose. A month ago, you talked about me like that. You can't not date her cause of me.'

Diwa shrugs.

I don't push. At the end of the day, I couldn't give a fuck about her relationships. I just needed her to get over the fear of asking a girl out because if I've got one duty on earth, it's to get people rebelling against their parents.

'You shouldn't...' She hesitates, studying me to check that she's not about to step out of line as if I'm a mind reader or a time traveller and have a clue about what she's about to say. 'You shouldn't blame yourself for those thoughts you have. They're not you.'

And how am I meant to respond to that then?

By sweating apparently cause my chest keeps radiating warmth like someone's turning up the thermostat way above what Nikki can afford to pay.

I thank her.

'Since we're having weird emotional conversations,' I continue. 'Erm... I'm sorry for all the hurtful things I've said to you over the years.'

Diwa smiles. 'Yeah, I'm sorry too.'

'That's alright. I didn't understand them cause I've got worms for brains–'

Diwa shoves me and I flop sideways onto the mattress where my giggles gush into the fuzzy lavender bedspread. 'It's alright. I reckon the best friendships start that way.'

            It's past six when we hug goodbye at the door, agreeing to meet again tomorrow. I've not taken one step into the dark before car headlights cage me.

A flutter of panic. Followed by irritation as we watch her mum's car turn into the front garden.

I shift my weight on my feet. What if I just leg it before she parks? But that would probably look bad...

Diwa's mum casts a glance at us as she climbs out. They greet each other in Tagalog. It don't sound like she's cross but what do I know? I can't speak the language.

I'm sure Mrs Atangan knows about my expulsion. Maybe Diwa's not meant to see me. If I were a bad influence before then now...

Fuck. I should've run when I had the chance.

'Cecilio, how are you?'

'Uh...'

I glance back at Diwa who shakes her head to say she don't know what's going on either. Why is her mum suddenly talking to me? Like I'm a human being too, and not some spiky variety of amoeba?

'Fine... Thanks...'

I finally get myself free from the doorstep and start down the garden, one foot in the grass and the other on the asphalt in my attempt to stay as far away as possible.

'How are you?'

'Glad it's Friday,' Mrs Atangan says as she gathers food shopping from the boot.

I stop. Diwa is still hanging in the open door, releasing all the heat into the evening sky, but she can't hear us. Not if I talk quietly...

It'll be easy enough to avoid Mrs Atangan for the rest of my life if it gets proper awkward so might as well go for it.

She slams the boot shut, bags hooked over both shoulders, and flinches when she comes face to face with me.

'You should've come to maths olympiad,' I say.

I try to keep my voice as smooth as running water, the way Nikki does so well—forceful but without barbs. For once, the point isn't to wind her up.

'Diwa works so hard to make you proud. You should support her more—I don't mean financially. You need to be there for her, emotionally.'

'Diwa never asks–'

'She shouldn't have to ask.'

The neighbours behind them have spray painted NO PARKING onto their fence. There's other writing too but it's strangled behind some sort of ivy or other crawling plant Nikki would immediately give me the Wikipedia page on.

I lever my focus back to Mrs Atangan's. They're unguarded, pliable brown rather than amber.

'She's gay. Maybe it makes ya uncomfortable but you need to get over it. Or don't, won't make a difference to me. But just so you know, she's gonna move out the minute she graduates and then it'll be too late.'

Diwa stumbles to our side in a pair of slippers that are definitely not hers given how they nearly fall off with each step. 'What are yous talking about?'

Her mum stutters.

'Just catching up,' I say.

It's so absurd of an answer that it don't really count as lying. I know Diwa knows it's not the truth. But she knows not to ask again.

I pull her into a brief hug. 'I'll see you tomorrow. Friend.'