LOVE ME LIKE ART

9

아홉
Zachary A. Choi

I GINGERLY PEEL OFF my muddy trainers in the foyer, trying not to advertise to anyone in my parents' house that I'm back from that hellish walk in the woods.

I stare at my shoes, confronted by the indelible brown marks of mud that represent our incompatibility.

I thought it would be a boundless cascade of opportunities. Instead, it was a dramatic collapse of all my expectations. I thought I was walking towards a figurative door that might ink a new beginning but it is just a black corridor of desperation.

"Hey, shitface." Sammie says with a slew, hanging off the door ledge and prising me out of my wallow. There is no time for me to be self-depreciating.

I glumly nod.

"How was your date?" She nosily asks.

Date? I can't help that my lip upturns. A date implies that Camille wanted to be there, when her veiled threats and her passive aggression felt like I was holding the woman to ransom.

"Hey, kid." I force a quiet smile, trying to find my words in the labyrinth of my mind. It wasn't that I don't expect to be besieged with questions—there is no privacy in this house that exists. It it just that I am a little taken aback that it is Sammie, staring back at me, demanding an answer out of me. It is especially weird because Sammie's in-flight response is to roll her eyes to anything that pertains to my love life.

"Before I answer... Mum sent you didn't she?"

"No?" She cocks her upper lip, attempting to mask whatever she is thinking. But, her soft like butter brown eyes betray her, under this invisible but rustic spotlight of our hallway.

I decrypt her gaze like I am tracing weathered pages of a book, unmasking a secret code that reveals more than she intends. She is ironically quiet but the small shrill in her voice adds an edge to her denial.

"Yes." I cryptically vet her.

"No."

"Yes."

"Fine." She relents with a soft drum with her lips. "I'm also trying to be a little nosy." Her eyes look up at me, like she is a snap turtle trying to prise out morsels of information out of me. "So, what happened?" It isn't like Sam to pry. She is one to barricade herself in her room as it takes a lot to pull her out of her books, even if we are every bit persuasive.

"Sam." I assess her eyes in laborious detail. I know what the colour of mischief looks like but Sammie is hardly giving much away. But that increases my edge because I know my sister well. "What are you asking?"

"Am I not allowed to ask?" She tuts, hanging over my arm. Her eyes are coloured in impish brown.

"You're never, ever interested in my shit, Sam." My lips say, because it is true. She isn't usually but now she is. "Your nose is usually buried in your half-opened books."

"You sound jealous, Zach." Her lips bounce.

"Jealous?"

"Yes."

"No." I react with a subtle shake of my head. "I'm just wondering what has recently peaked your interest."

"I'm trying to be more present." Sammie crinkles her pert nose as she holds onto the door latch, almost like she is operating as a guard keeper for the truth. "Tell me how it went. Did you have a good time? Did you bond?" The tone that she uses sounds sincere, that I believe that she's interested. And I could benefit to having someone to talk to, about it. Someone that isn't my officious mother.