our walk is mostly silent: sometimes eli looks over at me timidly so i turn away; or maybe i don't, which makes him flustered like nothing i've ever seen and gives me a proper thrill. the moon is kind to him. shines a flashlight in his face and he doesn't look away.
when we finally arrive, i bet it's something near midnight —but i've shaken off my tired, replaced it with excitement. eli's excited, too, jostling my shoulder, mumbling about how cool it was gonna be, how awesome, how he'd let me pick which ones we'd light up ("since i'm a gentleman." —"bullshit, but alright."), how sometimes cops come around here and promise you won't rat me out or run away without me, okay?
i promise, of course, because i'm making efforts to be a good person and even if i wasn't, eli is unconciously persuasive in everything he does. something about his voice or eyes, maybe.
"here, dear jordan," he says, standing beside a wooden bathroom-esque establishment, "is fire city, home of the world's best fireworks."
he flings open the door with flourish: a compact room, lined on every wall with packets and packets of fireworks, in blues and magentas and yellows and neon greens, every shade under god's colorwheel blinking back at me.
"this is amazing," i whisper. eli beams brightly.
"pick whichever ones you want. but leave the gold-colored ones, if you can. those are for special occasions."
i'm a little disappointed, because gold was the exact one i wanted — i could visualize the sparks splashing through the sky in one mega light show — so i look at eli very kindly, the way veronica did in days when i was feeling sour enough to completely ignore her, conveying my dissatisfaction in the most appealing way possible.
"c'mon, eli."
i feel like a phoney, using her tactic, but it works: in a second, eli's wordlessly pulling the silver fireworks off their shelf, shaking his head and smiling to himself. i let my head swell over small flattery.
outside once again, eli situates the firework firmly in its holster, then supplies me with a shiny cigarette lighter from his pocket.
"you smoke?" i ask incredulously. he just didn't seem like the type to do so.
"used to. i do other things now," he says vaguely. "you can do the honors and light it up, if you want to."
god knows there hadn't been a day in my life where i had ever had the experience of lighting a candle, let alone a firework — but it'd be completely foolish to present my shortcomings to eli right now, so i take the lighter, like i'm some kind of expert, and crouch down low by the firework.
"it's - it's upside down, jordan," eli says lightly, stifling a laugh. i shoot him an embarrassed glare and flip it right side up, press the switch, and to my own surprise produce an orange flame from the device, right onto the firework.
"step back," eli says. i shuffle backwards five steps, eli right beside me.
the thing goes off high pitched and beautiful: it streaks up over the trees and descends somewhere in the bushes. i'm filled with a quite awe. eli looks positively enthralled.
"i'm going to go get the multiple set," he mumbles distantly, before running back to the stash shack. he returns in a moment, sets up nine fireworks a foot apart in record speed, lights them up even faster, and grabs my hand as we jog away from the flames, staring in a dumbstruck adoration of artificial fire in technicolor, like it was some sort of real life movie.
"that was probably the coolest thing i've seen all year," he pants breathlessly — we sit within a garden of twigs and dead leaves making up the woods. we hadn't even moved that quickly, but i know the feeling of being breathless while still with breath. breathlessness catalyzed by something beautiful.
"the year's just started, eli, how could you say that?" i question him.
"well, what can beat what we just saw?"
"a bunch of things, okay, a million things," i say, too defensively. eli notices, smiling lazily at me.
"it'd sure be nice to see the second coolest thing this year with you, too," he says, his voice growing soft. "you're good company."
"yeah, and i can't hold a lighter properly, don't forget that, too," ireply, because compliments cut off circulation to my brain and i can't accept them without stuttering like a mess. eli looks at me so long i worry he's gone blind or into a trance.
then i realize it's probably because i look better than i really do at night — nighttime romanticizes even the worst of us — and it starts a funny, odd feeling in my stomach, so i tell him i have to leave and i'll see him again soon, he should call me or swing by my house sometime, whenever.
i don't see him get up, his silhouette shrinking smaller and smaller as i head home. i'd left him submersed in a bed of sticks and logs. i had a feeling he'd be there until the next morning. maybe make someone's day. i'd be happy if i came across a sweet, sleepy boy laying in the woods.
YOU ARE READING
CALIFORNIA DAZE
Short Story'-he's always going to be there at the back of your mind.'
