Authors: Andrew Ball
After the movie was over, they found an
ice cream cart on Boylston Street. She got a
dainty little cup of yogurt, claiming she was
on a diet. Daniel opted for a massive waffle
cone.
"You just had to get the large," Rachel
said.
"Well, since you’re paying. By the way,
what’s with the diet?" Daniel said. "You
look…"
Rachel’s face darkened like a
thundercloud about to burst. "I look like
what?"
The man behind the cart laughed. "Good
luck with that one, champ."
"You like a spring sunrise," Daniel said.
Rachel groaned. "Never put me through
anything like that again." They turned down
the street. When they were a few paces from
the cart, Rachel looked back at him. "So
what did you really want to say, Mr. Nice
Guy?"
"You’re perfectly sexy the way you are."
"…oh."
"What is it with women and diets?"
Daniel asked. "You’re all always on a diet
or about to be on a diet. All the time. If I
wanted to screw a little Asian boy, I’d move
to Thailand. Why do women hate being
women?"
Rachel didn’t say anything. Daniel felt a
rising thread of panic. He didn’t mean to
come off as an asshole. Well, not that much
of an asshole.
He looked at her. "Sorry, I -" He
stopped. Her face was red from her ears to
her neck. "Um…I didn’t mean to embarrass
you."
"No, um…" Her voice cracked. "Just, I
wasn’t really expecting it. You know, and I
guess, most guys like skinny girls, right? So I
—uh, you know. Sorry, I’m all over the
place." She covered her face with her hands.
"Jeeze. I’m not saying this right."
Daniel was torn between apologizing
for speaking before thinking and calling her
sexy again.
He needed an out before he said
something stupid. He glanced up. They were
at where Boylston looped around the fens.
He tapped her shoulder. "Let’s go walk in
the park." He took her hand and led her
forward. She kept her head down.
A black iron sign declared the park the
Back Bay Fens. It was the beginning of a
long park that snaked through downtown
Boston around a shallow river. Just a few
yards in, the wide bushes and stumpy trees
had them surrounded, cutting off the
cityscape in waves of leaves.
Spindly bundles of reeds were tucked
around the water’s edge. Broad ferns and
wild flowers were scattered about the edge
of the gravel path. The overgrown plants
gave the fens a slightly exotic feel, as if they
were bushwhacking in a northeastern jungle.
They walked for a time without saying
anything, but Daniel felt the awkward
moment pass as they lost themselves in the
gardens.
The sun went low. The late evening
turned everything black and gold. They
caught occasional glimpses of the baseball
park rising above the edge of the trees as
they meandered back in the direction of the
university.
They came to a stop on a stone bridge
and leaned on the railing. The night was
bringing in a stiff fall chill. Rachel pressed
in close. Daniel looked at her. She looked
back at him. Her eyes were bright green.
He started to move for a kiss, then
thought better of it and stopped himself. She
leaned in the rest of the way.
He turned his cheek. Her lips brushed
the edge of his mouth. She edged back with a
hurt look on her face. "…sorry. I thought -"
"No. I was just thinking about kissing
you, actually."
"Then what is it?"
"It’s hard to put into words."
She clasped his hand. "Think about it.
Make the words. Then tell me."
Always so patient. Too patient. She was
a good person. Better than he was, anyway.
"There’s something going on with me,
right now," Daniel said. "I can’t say what it is."
"…is there someone back home?"
"If that was all, I’d just tell you up
front."
She gave a little nod. "I get the feeling
you would."
"It’s more important than that," he said.
"Really important. But I can’t keep a secret
like that from you. I like you too much for
that. It isn’t fair." He looked at the water. He remembered offering pond scum as a drink to
Xik. He felt like that, now, the dead mud at
the very bottom. "It’s not something I should
do and have a relationship at the same time. I
just…I couldn’t help myself. You’re really
great, and…I’m sorry. This probably sounds
like a load of crap."
"Umm…" He looked at her. He was
surprised to see guilt written all over her
face. "…this might sound weird, but I’m in
sort of a similar situation."
"…really?" Daniel quickly put 2 and 2
together. "It has to do with duchess, doesn’t
it?"
"Please don’t start guessing things. I
can’t say anything about it."
"Forget I asked, then." Daniel exhaled.
"Well, that went to shit fast. Dammit."
"Did you mean that?"
"Mean what?"
"…you like me so much you don’t want
to keep it from me?"
"I meant every word. Seriously, who
wouldn’t want to kiss you?"
Rachel bit her lip. She fixed her hat.
"You know, people say relationships are
built on trust, but I don’t think that
necessarily means you have to know
everything about the other person. You could
argue it takes even more trust to accept
someone knowing they’re hiding something.
You’d need greater faith to believe in them
in spite of their secrets."
"…this is pretty deep for our first date."
She blushed. "I guess it is."
"What if it’s…kind of bad?" Daniel
asked.
"Mine’s not a day at the beach," Rachel
said. "I think you’re a good person. You’re
honest. You can have your secret, and I can
have mine. And, maybe…when it’s right, we
can tell each other. Ok?"
She had that look again, the simple,
warm openness. A readiness to understand.
"…but it’s really sort of bad."
She kissed him. His resolve snapped
like a dry twig. His arms were at her back.
He dragged her closer, holding her against
him. They stayed like that for a long time.
****
While Daniel missed the first session of
the new Wing Blade Commander, he made it
to the second. It was everything he dreamed
it would be.
Mark and Jensen brought out four
controllers, and they gathered in Daniel and
Jack’s room, huddled on their beds and the
desk chairs around their tiny HD television.
The screen blared with the image of a jet
flying. Bold orange letters read WING
COMMANDER IV: OMEGA SQUADRON
"That’s kind of a stupid name," Daniel
said. "Alpha would have been better.
Actually, just Wing Commander IV would
have been better."
"Yeah," Mark said. "I mean, no one
wants to be a beta male, right? So you gotta
figure omega is really low on the totem
pole."
"Maybe the programmers never got
laid," Jensen said.
"Oh yeah, like you, right?"
"Not according to your mother."
"Holy flying faggots," Jack said. "Can we go five minutes without ‘your mom’
jokes? Just five minutes together?"
"Mark started it."
"I was just making an observation,"
Mark said. "You don’t have to get so
defensive."
"I wasn’t being defensive. I was just
saying how I screwed your mom."
"Come on, I want to play," Daniel said.
"Jensen, you’re player one. Press start."
"Alright," Jensen said. "But not before a little al-co-hol." He said it like that, in three syllables, before reaching into his backpack
and tossing Daniel a can of beer.
The aluminum was ice cold. It was some
weird brand he’d never heard of. "What is
this?" Daniel said.
"No clue, but it was ten dollars for 64 of
them at the liquor store."
"You’re not 21."
"This ain’t my first rodeo, pal. I got a
senior buddy to buy them. Friend from the
frat party you didn’t go to because you were
with that redhead."
"Her name’s Rachel."
"Oooooh," Jensen said.
"Whoa, Daniel," Mark said. "Just calm
down. Calm down, man. Drink your beer."
Daniel sighed, cracked his beer, and
braced himself. It actually wasn’t half bad.
Jack took a sip of his. "You know, this
isn’t half bad."
"I was just thinking that."
"Come on, I wouldn’t give you guys shit
beer," Jensen said.
"64 for ten bucks?" Daniel asked. "I was ready for canned urine."
"Well, you thought wrong." He set his
own drink on the desk. "Alright, let’s get this
show on the road."
****
Four hours later, Daniel was drunk. At
least, he thought he was drunk. The most beer
he’d ever had before this was three in a row
he’d had at a party in high school. That was
before he stopped going to parties.
He’d had way more than that now.
Probably eight. Around eight, give or take…
a few.
He tried to take stock of his symptoms.
His fingers were sort of numb, and he was
warm. His vision didn’t seem to want to
focus. He didn’t feel sick, though. That was
good.
"Daniel, pay the hell attention!" Jack
shouted. "I need ammo!"
Daniel looked up at the screen just in
time to see Jack get gunned down by
Jensen’s anti-aircraft fire.
Wing Blade Commander was a team
game; one player was the fighter pilot, and
the other played the commander. The
commander helped control the battlefield by
managing ground support and delivering
pickups for the fighters. It was an objective
based game, one half dogfight, one half race
to bomb objectives into oblivion.
They’d won 11 games running with
Daniel as the commander. He always liked
that part better. Jack had the twitchy fingers
of a first-person-shooter expert; he was a
natural pilot.
"Get it together," Jack said.
"Don’t you worry. I’m really together.
Totally together. Hey, you think I can blow
up my own tanks? Let me see."
"He’s totally drunk," Jensen said.
Mark crashed his plane into a
mountainside. His screen went black while
he respawned. "I think I’m drunker. More
drunk. Which one is it, drunker or more
drunk?"
They all considered it in silence. "More
drunk," Jack decided. "It sounds right."
No one argued the point.
Mark crashed again almost immediately.
Jack and Daniel won by default, then,
because that was Mark’s last life for the
round. "Dammit, you suck," Jensen said. "I’m flying next round."
"I think I’m good on games. Let’s just
drink."
Everyone mumbled some sort of
agreement. The controllers were tossed onto
Daniel’s bed. The game’s menu music kept
rolling in the background, a sort of fast-
paced metal-backed drumbeat that worked
for fighter planes, but really didn’t fit sitting
around and drinking. No one had the
motivation to get up and turn it off.
"Hey, you know," Jack said, "what do
you think is worse: being totally sunburned
all over your body, or having a really bad
fever?"
"What the hell made you think of that?"
Daniel asked.
"Don’t ask questions, just go with it,"
Jensen said.
"He’s drunk," Mark said. "What do you
want? Scorates?"
"I think you mean Socrates," Jensen
said.
"Shut up and pass me a beer."
"Ok," Daniel said, "I’m gonna go with
sunburn."
"What?" Jensen asked. "I’d totally go
with a bad fever." He threw another beer at
Mark.
Mark fumbled it for a moment, but he
managed to steady it. He raised it up
triumphantly, proud of the minor
accomplishment of not dropping his can.
"Who saw that? Did anyone see that?"
Daniel grunted his assent.
"Yes!" Mark said. "Also, yeah, fever."
"Why?" Jack asked.
"Well, I mean, a bad fever is ugly,"
Mark said. "You’re all achy. Can’t move.
You feel like crap, too, just in general.
Cough, stuffy nose, watery eyes, diarrhea.
Hell, everything is just shit. Shitty, shitty shit,
all over."
"That’s how you like it, huh?" Jensen
asked.
"Don’t talk shit about my fetishes."
"Wait a minute," Daniel said. "He said all over sunburn. You want sunburn on your
nuts?"
Mark, Jensen, and Jack all looked at
their crotches. "Ouch," Jensen said. "Ok, that’s bad. But a fever just makes you
miserable. You could survive crotch burn if
you went commando and wore gym shorts or
something. Like, a sunburn is inconvenient,
and sort of painful. It’s not on a level with a
fever."
"Alright," Daniel said, "but you also got a sunburn on your asshole. So every time you
take a shit, it stings like crazy."