Asher ✓

17 | break

JANUARY 4, 2011 / COMBER PARK

Asher was at Comber Park — a place he and his friends had started coming to quite often — again. 

This time, he was meeting his girlfriend of three months. A lot had changed in the ten months between his first visit to Comber Park and now. Vasily had finally gotten him a phone — though Asher never asked for it — when Asher had started high school at Symont High School, with Ryanel and Kerrish. 

Vinnie's parents had pressured him into applying for all the private schools closer to the city and even weeks before the first acceptance letter arrived Asher knew that with Vinnie's grades and Vinnie's skill and Vinnie's charm, he would leave their knit of friends for better future prospects.

Hugs had been shared, masculine goodbyes had been given, but at the end of the day, Asher knew Vinnie was a chapter of his story that would fade like worn ink. Like the friends he left in Russia. They would be at high school now, and Asher felt weird thinking about the strangers he somehow remembered. It was a pity that someone as awesome as Vinnie would become like that to Asher. But with the two friends fate had let him keep, they dived head-first into the drama of high school.

The first drama had come on the first day of school, when a fabulously-dressed Tracey Bradshaw had strolled into the halls of Symont High School, trailed by her equally shiny friends. Even better yet, Asher, Kerrish and Ryanel were in her form class. If he wanted a calm, peaceful year, Asher knew he'd have to learn to enjoy Tracey's company. So learn he did, and four months later, Asher was at Comber Park, meeting Tracey — his girlfriend of three months.

Her habit of wearing elevated heels wherever she went became more of an endearing quality to Asher — she liked always looking good, what did he ever see annoying about that? — and he appreciated the image of his beautiful girlfriend strolling towards him with black stiletto books making scary-looking indents in the layer of snow.

"Hey, sweetie," her habit of using terms of endearment as often as a great-grandmother did also became endearing, never mind how emasculating names like sweetie and honey-pie were. "How's your winter break been?"

"Very good, thank you," Asher smiled, and leant in for a kiss.

It was true. The day after New Year's (he and Vasily didn't do much to celebrate) Asher went in for an appointment with the doctor who replaced Giorgi Polzin: Hannah Kruger, an osteopathic physician. She had given him the regular routine of blood tests and profile measurement that Asher had long since developed an immunity for — needles didn't scare him as much as early onset deafness did. The news, however, had been far more relieving than anything Asher had experienced.

"Well, since you're nearly fifteen now," Dr. Kruger wrote a note that Vasily would read as soon as Asher delivered it to him. Since his fourteenth birthday, Asher had been coming to his appointments alone and self-motivated. "I'd say your bones are steady enough to withstand some sports and most amusement park rides. Of course, there are going to be some exceptions, which I'll explain more closely when your father can come in."

So they had scheduled another meeting, which Asher could barely wait for — he might finally get the life he always wanted. That life, however, didn't include awkward sex talks from his father just before Asher was planning to meet up with Tracey that day.

When Vasily had introduced the topic, Asher had exclaimed, "Ew. Dad, I already know about that. We covered it back in Russia. Please. Stop."

Vasily had countered, "I just had to make sure. After all, you used to think that babies were made in Petri dishes."

"Ahem, some are, though. I wasn't wrong."

Asher didn't really remember that sunny ride home from a visit with his physician, years ago. Ekaterina was still with them, and had told Asher that version of childbirth to protect his innocence. Vasily's attempt at educating his child failed, since he was already sure that at fourteen and ten months, Asher was already smarter than his old man. 

Asher's father would think for the rest of his son's teenage life that if Ekaterina were still alive, she would have done the best job of educating and protecting their son from broken bones and broken hearts alike.

So aside from the talk, with the usual joy and feel-good emotions that Christmas brought, and the relaxing chill of winter break, coupled with the inspiring news from Dr. Kruger, it was a huge understatement to say that Asher had had a good winter break.

"That's nice," Tracey commented absently. "Do you want to take a walk?"

"Sure." Asher gripped her hand, and their entwined fingers swung between them as Asher and Tracey left footprints in the snow.

Tracey had already prepared what she was going to say to Asher. She had preparing ever since the junior linebacker of their football team had asked her out. They had already had their first date and kiss, while she was still officially Asher's girlfriend.

"We're good together, aren't we?" were her first words. 

It wasn't fair of her to use present tense; at least if she used past tense, Asher would get the message immediately — he was a smart boy, but not smart enough to predict a cheating girlfriend and hasty breakup to salvage her twisted conscience.

"Absolutely," was what Asher said, when he was really thinking, "I think we are adequately suited, but we're just teenagers and we're probably going to break up before the year is over. However, I know girls like all that romance-love-is-going-to-last-forever-and-love-never-hurts shit, so I'm going to lie and make you feel special — even though the love of my life is already waiting where I'm going to end up."

No teenager boy said that. Almost no teenager even thought that, but Asher did; the boy who knew too much about hurting bodies and not enough about hurting hearts. He knew science, and not sociability.

Which is why he didn't see the breakup coming.