Good Enough

Mia - Skeletons in Our Closets

I know what he's doing. I know what everyone is doing. I can feel their eyes crawling on me like spiders. First, it was Julian at stupid track practice. Then my mom started making me eat dinner with them. Said that if I didn't come out of my room, she would arrange for meetings with the school counselor. Even Andrea stopped me in the locker room after practice, asking why I never bought snacks at the gas station stops before meets, and why I never went with them places after practice. I was tired of it. I was tired of everyone thinking that my business was somehow theirs by association. That's not how it works. 

I stab my forking into the plate blindly, not remembering or caring what I ordered under Julian's judgemental gaze. Everyone's always in my fucking busi-

"What did the chicken ever do to you?" Julian jokes, laughing lightly but looking concerned all the same.

It was his brilliant idea to come out to eat today. He looked tired, but I didn't even have a chance to ask if he wanted to just lay in the grassy park and talk before he was suggesting a restaurant he loved when he was younger. An Italian restaurant, to be exact. Everything in here smelled delicious. And that was the problem.

I smile lamely and cut the chicken again with my fork. Now it's about the size of a Tylenol, but I still can't bring it into my mouth. A glance across the table tells me that Julian is done eating.

Did he eat fast? Or am I just too slow?

I'm practically forced to bring a shaky hand up with two noodles on it. They're both drenched with sauce but I love it. You hate it. It melts in my mouth, the sauce is buttery and good and creamy and amazing. My hand shakes a little less with the next two bites.

The conversation comes a little easier between us now that Julian is done staring. We talk a little about school, a little about track, and a lot about Julian's childhood. I think it's something about being back in this restaurant that makes his face light up as he tells me stories about him and his brother, his mother's love for obscure colored blouses, and all of the sports and clubs he's ever tried.

"So you're telling me you were actually on the volleyball, track, basketball, and swim team last year? How did those not overlap?"

Julian shrugs and takes a swig of his ice water. "Who knows? It was pretty exhausting. I was always somewhere or doing something. Still am, just no swim team this year."

"Wow. I think you might be the most amazing person who goes to our school."

The smile on his face slips off, dragging into a frown. It makes the worry lines in his forehead look permanently etched, like cracks in a sidewalk. "Not amazing," he mutter. "I mean, almost half of the people on those teams are better than me anyway. I just get by."

I shake my head earnestly. "No, at least not for track and cross country. I think the coaches would adopt you if they could. You'd be their little running prodigy."

He laughs at that, but the worry lines on his face are still there. In this lighting, the bags under his eyes are more noticeable too. It's days like this I'm grateful to wear makeup, if not he would probably see that the dark circles under my eyes are no better.

Julian clears his throat and nods his head at my plate. Empty. "Ready to go?"

I swallow the guilt down, wanting to go to the bathroom, but knowing that I didn't bring gum or something to cover up what I've done. I'm forced to follow Julian out of the restaurant after he declines me paying for my own meal. The only thing that grounds me from faking sick is his arm around my shoulders. It feels right. It feels good. It doesn't feel like the last date I went on with Her and her boyfriend by my side. 

The toilet flushed inside the stall I was guarding. The smile on Her face reminded me that this was a dirty little secret, and the look in her eyes nudged me towards the stall she just used. 

"Come on Mia. You finally snagged a date, do you really think he'll stick around if you look like a bloated whale half the time?"

I looked down at my clothes that suddenly felt too small, too tight, and too wrong. So wrong. I was a whale, I was a pig, I was a planet. She was right. 

"Hold the door closed?" I asked, my voice small. 

My date called me beautiful that night.

There's a poke on my cheek that brings me back to reality, which is sitting on a bench somewhere where not too many people pass and the shops are a good walk away. It's calm and perfect.

"Where'd you go?" Julian asks playing with a strand of hair that found it's way out of the loose braid I put it in.

"Nowhere," I say before leaning my head on his shoulder. "Tell me more stories about you and your brother."

"Um," He starts. "There aren't anymore."

"None?" 

"No." Julian doesn't offer anything else, and I don't ask. Maybe another day he'll tell me why he won't talk about him that much, or why every time he does, it's only to talk about the roughhousing they do.

I look up at him and meet his eyes that were looking down at me. I giggle involuntarily. "Hi."

He smiles back at me softly. "Hey."

I sit back up, and Julian pulls his arm off of me, shifting on the bench so that there's more space between us. But I didn't sit up for space. 

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I kiss him, but it's not soft like his voice. It's my lips crashing onto his, cupping the sides of his face like I'll fall off the edge of the Earth if I don't. Maybe I won't fall off the edge of "the" earth, but my mind will lose to this abyss of loving full full full full full full full if I don't feed it something else. 

My hand brushes the bandaid on his cheek, and I can feel him wince, even as he kisses me back just as urgently. I pull back an inch, still breathless. "What's this from?"

Julian's brown eyes flicker with something, something I can't identify as he kisses me again. "Don't worry about it."

I pull back again, "You say that every time you have a new bruise or cut."

Julian lets out a small sigh, his breath warm on my face. "Promise it's nothing. Got hit during an impromptu volleyball match. No big deal."

He doesn't give me a chance to respond before meeting my lips with his. I kiss him back, letting my fingers fall away from his cheek and to his chest instead.

I guess some things can wait to be asked about another day.