Alternative

October 15, 2008 at 4:46PM

Beth wanted to study together at Tim's. We had geology homework and I think she somehow knew that I could really use help with it. It felt good being active with her. I wondered if this was where we thrived: doing something together. Watching old, black and white movies, studying, playing music. One on one, face-to-face socializing without any activity to occupy us wasn't always smooth; words sometimes fell away. But just being in each other's presence was good.

It was taking me some time to nail down some of the concepts we were studying. Tectonic plates were difficult for me to visualize, but Beth seemed to understand it all perfectly. Stuff like that just made immediate sense to her. She seemed emboldened by it.

She explains to me the difference between divergent and convergent boundaries, where these plates moved apart or came together. The geographic example she gives for a convergent boundary is the arc of a volcano. I get stuck on that phrase: 'the arc of a volcano', where two tectonic plates move towards each other, one going under the other. The earth shifting underneath this impossibly epic natural event.

She looks at me and smiles, which lightly crinkles her face.

Still a few areas of the homework that I have trouble fully comprehending, but Beth is patient. She never seems even remotely annoyed or judgmental. I watch her eyes as she re-reads certain sections to clarify pieces of information for me.

She looks so alive, absorbed, taking in every last inch of the world in front of her.

"Have you told anyone about us?" I ask.

I want to make sure that I still have time to break it to Alex.

She keeps her head down and looks like I just mentioned something she really doesn't want to get into.

"No, have you?"

"Nope."

Eyes up from her textbook, steeling herself for the next thing she's going to say.

"What is going on with us, by the way?" she asks. "I don't really know how this works."

By that, I think she means that she's never had a boyfriend, which I sort of figured.

"Well, I like you," I say.

"I know. Me too."

"And I like this. Whatever it is."

She takes a breath and sighs with relief.

"Me too."

On the streetcar later. 

We ride in silence. It's quiet, only a few other people riding with us. She abruptly turns and kisses me; tries putting her tongue in my mouth this time. But it feels strange. She's clearly never done it before. 

I start giggling involuntarily. Mildly embarrassed but she's also chuckling.

"How the tables have turned," she says.

"I want to do that. It just felt a little funny."

"Okay. Well, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Neither do I. We'll figure it out..."

I put my arm around her, and we stay like that for the rest of the streetcar ride. I can't stop grinning (I probably look like a psycho) and whenever I look over at her huge, blue eyes, she grins back and just keeps saying:

"What?"

I don't have an answer. 

For anything, really. But it doesn't matter.