Wearing My Smile | ✔

Monday, July 14th, 2003

“Do you like her?”

“Who?”

“Penny.”

I looked up from my assignments, finding you there in the middle of my living room, your violin and its bow hanging gingerly from your hands. You had been practicing harder as of late, what with our routine coming to Damian's place every few days and to Bright Night every weekend. You were scowling at me, but that was nothing new. You had always been the one with a bit of temper. So I did what I always did when you were on the verge of lashing out: I smiled.

“What brought this on?” I asked, because at that point, good months have passed well into our third term of the year. It seemed odd to bring up then when Penny had already gotten over her infatuation toward me and had started to consider me as one of her siblings. I didn't know if you could tell the difference. I wondered a little if you had been mulling over the topic for months before bringing yourself to say it out loud.

That year I had been thinking a lot about my father's question to me before—if we had any friends other than each other. We did have other friends, Sam. I wasn't lying, was I? Somehow it bugged me though, because maybe deep down I knew how codependent we were. But I was still fourteen, I hadn't known yet what a codependent relationship was like, so all I knew was the question bothered the hell out of me.

“You spend a lot of time with her.”

I huffed fondly. “Well, so do you, Sam. We go everywhere together.”

I watched the way you gritted your teeth and looked away. You put down your violin, walking to my kitchen to get a glass of grape juice then gulped it down quickly. I noticed how your hand shook while the other was gripping tightly onto the edge of the counter.

I set aside my work, waiting for you to explain more, but as you put the glass away and pick your violin back up, you still wouldn't say anything. “Sam,” I started, concern bubbling up inside me, “come on, what's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.”

But you still weren't looking at me. “You're upset.”

“It's nothing, Roo,” you told me stubbornly.
I wasn't having any of it. “Can't be nothing if you're this angry.”

“Haven't you seen me angry many times before?” I heard how low your tone had become and I got it. That was how you always sounded when you were about to snap. You would either attack your enemy or run, neither of which you'd ever done to me.

“I have,” I told you softly, “but never at me.”

You glanced back at me then. Guilt colored your eyes, more hazel now than dark brown.

Trying to ease it, I added, “I'm just worried about you.”

Your shoulders slumped then, as if you were exhausted of constantly being in a state of fight or fight, like you were resigned. I thought at the time maybe you had a crush on Penny and you didn't know how to tell me. You still didn't say anything even after minutes passed, so I thought that was it. I knew I could never get you to talk about the things you didn't want to speak of. Being friends with you taught me patience. I would wait until you were ready while reminding you that I was always around every once in a while, so I was prepared to let the topic go for the time being.

Right before I decided to get back to my assignments though, I heard you said, “It just frustrates me sometimes when you're being nice to everyone.”

I didn't get to reply because right the next second you were playing your violin loudly, almost violently, as if you were trying to drown my house in any sound other than the ones speaking inside your head.