Blink

Then: Little Games

"Sometimes bad things have to happen before good things can.” 

- Becca Fitzpatrick, Crescendo

Scattergories. That's what we played.

 "Ilama!' James shouted, pounding his fist on the coffee table when we reached number four on our lists. Celia frowned at him, confused. I frowned at both of them, grumpy.

"The letter we're using is 'I' James," said Celia, sounding annoyed. "Were you really not listening?" 

"Yeah, I was," James replied, with a roll of his eyes and just a bit too much duh. "Obviously. Ilama starts with 'I'." 

I snapped out of my self-pity to gape at him. "What?" 

"Did you actually just say what I think you did?" Celia scoffed, leaning nearer to him across the table, as if his stupidity would have left a physical mark she could see by moving closer.  

James ran a hand through his still damp hair, and furrowed his eyebrows. "Ilama. I-l-A-M-A. Right?" 

I groaned loudly, resting my head in my hands, but neither of them payed me any attention because they had launched into a heated quarrel regarding James's apparent idiocy. This is what I had unwittingly condemned myself to. An afternoon of sibling rivalry and the most mundane, non-lethal activity Celia could think of: board games, which had subsequently lead me to discovering that one of the players was mentally deficient.

"No," I said out loud, and the twins stopped arguing to look at me. 

"See?" grinned James triumphantly. "Melle agrees with me. It's ilama, isn't it?" 

That was the last, very breakable, straw. "I most certainly do not," I snapped at him, shaking my hair out of my eyes so I could glare properly. "You're an idiot. Where the hell did you get the idea that llama starts with 'I'?" Before he could open his mouth to explain or argue, I continued vehemently. "I said 'no' because, as previously stated, I'm screwed whether I go back to my Mom now or later, after sky-diving or board games." I paused to inhale. "You guys want to know why I came out here with the both of you? I'll tell you. I was angry with my Mom for thinking she didn't give a shit about me." I laughed bitterly. "I'm so stupid. So incredibly, completely, stupid. It's something a three year-old would have done. It's actually beyond belief how immature I've been!"

They were both absolutely silent, disagreement forgotten, so I continued without drawing breath. "I think…" I said softly. "I just needed to escape myself for a while. So please, would you guys just give me that much? I risked too much for it." I sniffed, and it was seventy-five percent real, and twenty-five percent act. "Please."

Neither of them said a word, and I swallowed hard, and anything exaggerated or pretend had evaporated. They think I'm insane. They're going to start running any second now. I wiped away an errant tear that had leaked out of my eye despite my best attempts to stop it, and was trickling down my cheek. 

Then James did something unexpected, which was especially peculiar because I had considered him someone whose actions would usually be predictable. In one fluid motion, he pushed himself up from their hideout's ragged carpet, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around me in a surprisingly warm embrace. For a moment, I froze, my muscles tensed, hands rigid by my sides. 

"It's okay," he whispered into my hair. "It's going to be okay." I should have been anything but comforted, with a boy I'd barely even met hugging me in an oddly intimate manner, but I had two options, one of which was certainly preferable. I could continue bottling up the anger and sorrow inside of me, watching and waiting as the pressure increased and pushed me closer to the breaking point, or I could take this moment for what it was, an unusual opportunity. I melted into his embrace, and with the first release, every muscle in my body turned to mush. The first sob broke through, soaking his still-moist shirt with tears that had been held back for too long. 

James was quiet, but I couldn't care much less because I used the silence as a gift, and filled it with anger and tears and sound. I didn't think, I only cried, cried, and cried, because sometimes that's what you need to do. I let the noise pouring from my body be my focus. I concentrated on the sound. I sniffled.

Tears were still pouring down my face, but now they were silent and cold instead of loud and white hot. I wasn't hearing anymore, I was only feeling when James stroked his thumb back and forth across my wrist, slowly. I didn't listen to him humming, but rather felt the vibrations of an unknown but soft melody through my chest, as we rocked back and forth in a slow but secure dance. I could sense Celia's slight hand stroking my back in gentle apprehension, but only focused on James, because every movement he made was sure and certain and all I needed was some of his infectious conviction that everything would be all right. Because that was what he believed, right to the core. Because it was so pure, even though it could be ignorant or naive or guileless. Because you need to believe in fairytales sometimes, or the happily ever after, or even just in someone else, because if you don't, you won't make it far enough to see if things turn around. Because you need to believe in the little change for it to happen. 

For a sometimes stupid, cocky, apparently illiterate guy who only had the chance to interact with thirty people on any given day, he could be really, really smart. 

Dedicated to Shu. She knows why.