quixotic. ↣ d.h.

xxiv: crutches

"i hope you like chicken," zoe's mother said, setting a plate in front of dan. it had teeny cerulean-blue flowers painted along the edges that matched the tablecloth.

    "chicken's great!" dan said enthusiastically. "thank you, again, mrs. woods, for letting me stay."

    "oh, it's no problem at all! you're welcome any time!" zoe's mother beamed at her daughter from the opposite side of the oakwood table. she seemed so genuinely thrilled that zoe had a friend that she didn't even scold her for having her word list at the table.

somewhere along the course of her quotidian life, zoe had found herself leaning on crutches of distraction: her cell phone, books, music, television shows, movies, her word lists. anything that took her away from reality would do. but living only became more strenuous as her age increased, and one day she had woken up to discover that she could not survive without her crutches. reality could occasionally be a lovely place, but she simply could not bear to live there.

"so, are you in 'shy club' with zoe?" mr. woods asked, raising his fork to his mouth. he was a tall man, with silvered hair that glimmered when the light crossed it. his dark green shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of dress pants, and his work badge from the car dealership was still pinned to his chest.

dan nodded. "it's really fun." it wasn't, really, but something deep inside of him wanted to please zoe's parents; maybe because he knew he would never be able to please his own.

"what kind of exercises do you guys participate in? zoe hasn't told us much about it."   

zoe's face burned crimson at her mother's comment, but she still kept her mouth closed, not offering any information. dan glanced at her. his lips threatened to curve into a sly smile; the things they did in 'shy club' were far from what her mother would suspect or, if he had assessed mrs. woods personality correctly, be pleased by.

last week, after the usual how-are-you-doings, mr. levine had led them to the theater and showed them how to play some animal-impersonating game. they had to walk in loops around the stage until he stopped the music, and then hurriedly form groups and mime a part of the animal. it had seemed silly and embarrassing at first, but then they got so caught up in the game that they forgot all about their anxieties. it was the best when that happened. those little moments of pure happiness were what they lived for.

"we all sit in a circle and talk about our feelings," dan said with mock eagerness. he pulled a thoughtful face, spreading the lie on as thick as he could. "there's a squishy stress ball we pass around and it's so comforting."

    zoe had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

her mother nodded approvingly, blonde hair bobbing. "that sounds delightful. it's apparently capable of working wonders." she glared not-so-subtly at zoe, who dropped her gaze to the word list beside her plate.

dan felt his chest squeeze. he was beginning to see that things were not nearly as perfect as they had originally seemed in zoe's dollhouse.

    "it truly is. zoe and i are the greatest of friends now." dan gushed. he wished we was quicker on his feet; maybe then he could keep this exchange going until zoe finally cracked and her lips spread happily. he glanced to his side and smirked at her until she smiled back. and that's when he felt the warmth filling his chest and realized:

    he didn't want to be just her friend.