Bright Lights, Dark Nights (9 page)

We were walking under a line of trees downhill toward the park bus stop while I thought up my next question. What I really wanted to know I wasn't sure how to bring up, but she did say something earlier I could use to get there. “Why was it so weird to you that those guys were trying to ask you out?” I asked. “Was it just because they were older? Or was that just really strange for you in general?”

We sat down at a bench across from a guy eating a slice of pizza. It was Saturday night but it could have been Saturday morning with the amount of foot traffic in the park.

“They were old, but it wasn't just that,” Naomi said. “You go right for the personal questions. Why was that so weird? I don't know. I guess because it's never happened before? It's gotta be weird the first time someone hits on you, right?”

“I would not know,” I said. That was a feet-watching answer, not a face-watching answer.

“Me, neither,” Naomi said. “I'm kind of a dork. I don't really come across as super approachable or anything. Which is fine because I'm really not, my parents wouldn't let me date anyone anyway. Never mind. I'm gonna change the subject. My question. Here's an easy one: favorite color, and why.”

She didn't look like a dork, that was for sure, and she didn't have a dork vibe until she was calling herself one. After a few hours with Naomi, I was starting to see it a bit, in a good way. Our differences were attractive, but the similarities were what I really enjoyed. Our mutual dorkiness.

The bus showed up, a perfect diversion from Naomi's hard-hitting question. The bus was packed and we had to stand and hold on to the rails. Naomi and I faced each other on the bus, no room for anything but face-watching and eye contact for the ride. The game was a little embarrassing with so many ears in the vicinity now.

“So my favorite color. Maybe purple?” I said. I focused on her shoulder. The dark purplish black of her jean jacket. “Like a night-sky purple. Shadows. In my head it's the color of the city, even though I can look around and not see a ton of purple. That's a bad answer, I know. I'm going to use my question to ask you the same thing. Favorite color.”

“All right, but you only get to copy me this once, and only because I have an answer,” Naomi said, confident smile. “I like combinations. Like blue and black, or blue and brown.”

“So anything with blue, but not blue by itself,” I said. I looked up, tried to match her eye contact. I didn't want to seem intense or creepy but not too soft or insecure, either. Life is difficult.

“Hey, blue goes with a lot,” Naomi said. “My question. We'll get a little deeper. Who was your first crush?”

I looked around. No one was paying any attention to us. The people in seats were asleep or listening to their iPods, or talking to each other.

“I guess it was this girl Ellen, from third grade,” I said. “I just picked her at random because everyone else at our lunch table were picking out their crushes. She was the first girl I saw when I looked around. Lo and behold, she became the most popular girl in elementary school, and pretty much everyone was into her by the end of the year. I think she moved out of state in fifth grade.”

“Nice, so you have good taste and set trends,” Naomi said, nodding. The bus stopped and we swayed toward the back for a second. “You also send girls running across the country. Hmmm.”

“That's one way of looking at it,” I said. We grabbed a couple of empty seats. When the bus started moving again, her body pressed into mine. She was still waiting for my next question. “What do you see in your future?” I asked.

Ideally she'd see me there, but there was pretty much no chance of her actually saying that. It would probably be troublesome if she did.

“Boring future, but not too boring,” she said. We sat side by side now. I watched her knee. There was a slight rip in her jeans on the left knee. “Like, I want a husband and family, but I don't want a boring day job or to be home all the time or anything. I have too many hobbies I love, so I want to do something with one of them to make money and be fulfilled.”

“Wow, there's, like, twelve follow-up questions to that,” I said. This game could go all night, but our stop was next.

“That's why it's a good game,” Naomi said, cutting off the subject. “Are you a good student?”

“No,” I said. “Not really. I get C's in school, I strive for average. I'm a better student of life.”

“Fair enough. What grades do you get in life?” Naomi asked.

We hopped off the bus at our stop, and I gave it some thought. “Life grades,” I said, mulling it over. “Like, D's, if I'm honest. I'm a bad student of life. I'm a bad kid, Naomi Mills.”

“Tsk. Disappointing,” Naomi said. We crossed the street to her building. Her arm swung free, and I wanted to hold her hand or take her arm, or something. Anything that didn't end the night on
Tsk, disappointing
. Her stupid building was getting closer. “Ask me something,” she said. And she looked at me when she said it. And maybe it was the look, or the fact that she looked at all when she asked …

“Can I kiss you?” I asked. I hadn't even thought of it before the words came out of my mouth, probably the only way I'd get them out. But there we were, standing outside her home and enjoying each other's company, and Jason had said you had to throw yourself out there even if they said no nine times out of ten—

“Walter, no!” Naomi said.

I'd have to remember not to listen to Jason anymore.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that,” Naomi said, touching her lips and looking away from me. “Uh, let me just get to my next question. I'm sorry. Um, I was going to ask you what you found attractive, but don't say me or anything cheesy.”

This took a sudden turn for the worse. At least she didn't run for the door. Instead, we walked around the block. There were benches and trees, people walking around. The concrete was the color of the moon under the pale lights. I had to salvage this. I was running on fumes here. “Sense of humor?” I said. “Intelligence, maybe?”

“Hm. BS alarm,” Naomi said. She was still acting the same with me, aside from a lot more feet-watching. Maybe I hadn't fully blown it. I should have played it cool, kept it casual. Now I'd sounded the BS alarm and it was only minutes before the BS police took me away and put me in BS jail for eternity.

“I do have an answer,” I said. We were walking a slow pace, neither of us setting it. All was not lost. “Here's something. I like: oddness. Like, your typical popular high school girl—yeah, they're cute, but I like someone who's a little quirky, who maybe I can click with in a way that not everyone else in the world does. Does that make sense?”

“I'll give you that one,” Naomi said as we circled back to the front of the building. “Hey, listen, I should get inside. But about that kissing question—”

“No, don't,” I said. “Forget it. I didn't mean to make things weird. I don't even know what I was—”

“No, I made it weird. It was a knee-jerk reaction,” Naomi said, fiddling with her pocketbook strings. “I like to be up front and real, and I don't want to leave it like that. I didn't mean to sound rude or anything, and I hope I didn't hurt your feelings. But between you and those guys at the concert, I guess it's just my night or something.”

“Those guys were lame,” I said. “You can't group me in with them. Where are they? I'm gonna kick their—”

“I'm just embarrassed—that's all,” Naomi said. “I've never really kissed a boy or anything like that, and I don't think you're supposed to really ask—”

I scooped her toward me, my heart beating like it took up my entire chest. I leaned in and kissed her on the lips, closed mouth, but held it for a second. I didn't know if that was the right move or what, but I wanted to hold her closer and longer.

“I have one question left,” I said as I let her go.

“Okay…” Naomi said, laughing at the discomfort of it all. She looked back at the door, probably hoping no one in her family was around. I was looking at my feet but made a point to look up.

Her eyes were reflecting the streetlights behind me.

“Did you have fun?” I asked.

She nodded. “That's an easy one. Good night, Walter,” Naomi said, walking backward as if she were drunk, still in a silly mood. “Thanks for taking me.”

I stood in place and watched Naomi go inside. I watched the door close, jealous I wasn't on the other side of it. I felt light on my feet but glued to that one spot. The moon was close to full and the streetlights were bright, and it felt like the middle of the day, like the fireworks at Disney World. I spun away from Naomi's and started to walk home, almost as if I were drunk, too. I smiled and waved to a passing couple. I smiled at everyone I passed on the walk back home.

*   *   *

I got home to find Dad consoling Rosie on the couch, a box of tissues on the coffee table. She blew her nose into one of the tissues.

“What's going on?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

“Hey, Walter, leave us alone for a minute, would you?” Dad said.

Rosie shook her head. “No, maybe he can help. It was a teenager, I think,” Rosie said. Her makeup was running from the crying.

“Good, that's good. It was a kid,” Dad said. He had his hand on her back, sitting right beside her on the couch, hunched in. “Was he black?” he asked. “I've heard things, some black kids doing this.”

“I think so,” Rosie said, nodding. I took off my coat and sat down in the chair beside the couch. On the other side of Rosie, I could see her face was bruised—she'd been hit or something.

“You think so?” Dad asked. “You didn't see what color he was? Sorry, that was rude. Take your time.”

“He was black,” Rosie said. “He had a hat, too, red hat.” She took another tissue from the box and blew her nose again.

“Walter, get something for Rosie's eye,” Dad said. “Get an ice pack and a cloth.” Then to Rosie, “So go over this one more time for me.”

“I went to bed early, a little after nine,” I heard Rosie say as I went into the kitchen. “Long day. So I'm just falling asleep and I hear someone in my home. I should have stayed put, but I didn't. I turn on the light, go into my living room, and there's this kid, just standing there. I ask him what he's doing here; I tell him to get out before he answers. He throws me into the wall.”

Rosie stopped talking there. I heard her blow her nose again. I brought the ice pack out for Rosie.

“He tells you to get him something valuable and he'll leave,” Dad says. Rosie nodded. “You freeze up; he hits you and runs.” Rosie nodded again, her face was all wet from crying. Rosie lived next door—this creep was on our street. We could be next.

I'd just taken Naomi through the city. I'd just walked through the Basement in the dark. There were crazy people out there, right here, right near us. It felt like something that happened to other people. Getting mugged, being attacked—that was stuff you saw on TV or read about online. My dad was a cop—how much safer could it get? But here we were.

“Rosie, I'm gonna find this kid, all right?” Dad said. “I'm gonna personally find him, and when I do, I'm gonna give him a lot worse than a black eye.”