Location: Central
I should have known that after a while, her company would lose its sparkle. That her eyes would lose their borrowed warmth, that her hands would lose their accumulated gentleness for me.
Even rough things need to be dealt with gently on occasion. Even rough things need to be loved.
Why is the world so intent on making it clear only that the needy ones need? Everyone needs.
Everyone needs.
She's not around, today. It's been a few days, since the paint on my back, and some of it's still there, I'm sure.
I haven't worked to get it off.
My footsteps echo across the street and bounce off the brick buildings right back at me.
I'm going to lunch today. I'm out of food at my place, and I'd rather not go see Matt. Or Spero. Or Femi, actually. Something felt off when I took her home that night, even more than usual, like she was lying... or pretending.
Which doesn't surprise me. It should, shouldn't it? But it doesn't, because I know that no matter how friendly she works to be, she's afraid. Sometimes I can see it.
And sometimes, like when I brought her flowers, I can't.
It's a hit or miss with that girl. And I'm tired of being tired.
The sign that hangs above the café door looms up above me, ahead of me, and I duck into the doorway.
It smells like grease in here, like burgers and fries, and a little sweet, too, like ice cream.
A very familiar redhead stands at the counter.
Sighing, I walk up beside her and rest my elbows on the counter.
She glances over. "Hi."
"Hey," I reply, looking up. The purple shadows under her eyes are a bit darker than usual, and I look away, sighing again.
"Are you okay, today?" She doesn't glance at me this time. Her eyes stay on something in the kitchen.
"I'm fine." I straighten, stretching my back. "How are you?"
"Good enough," she says, looking up. She nods, perhaps more for her own benefit than mine.
"You look tired."
She smiles a little. "I am."
So am I. I don't say it, and I don't show things like that as well as she does, but I'm exhausted. I didn't sleep well last night, and didn't go to bed until very late the night before that. And then add in the fact that I've been running around, and it doesn't seem all that far fetched that I would be completely worn out.
The waitress comes back to the counter. "Your milkshake will be ready in a few minutes," she says to Femi.
As Femi walks to a nearby booth and sits down, the girl turns to me. "What would you like today?"
I look up at the menu. I've only been here a few times, and the food is really expensive. All things that involve non-canned meat is expensive, though.
"I'll take a burger and a vanilla shake. Cut the burger in half, please."
"Got it," she says, smiling. I pay her for mine and Femi's food before going to sit down at the booth with Femi.
I considered sitting somewhere else for a moment, but that would have been awkward. I would have done nothing but rethink my decision, and she probably would have made faces at me the whole time.
My logic needs work.
She scoots her feet closer to her side of the table when I sit down. "What are you doing here today?"
I shrug. "Out of food at the shop. Didn't feel like going over to the store."
She nods. "Didn't feel like seeing me, you mean?"
"It's not easy," I say, meeting her gaze. She doesn't seem to mind.
"No, it's fine. I don't mind, really. It's about time you gave up."
The girl from the counter rings a bell. "Your orders are done."
I get up and grab them, continuing our conversation when I get back.
"Why should I give up?" I ask, handing her her shake.
She takes a small sip. "Because it's pointless, mostly."
I shrug, unfolding my burger out of its wrapper. I set half on a napkin and push it across the table to her.
"It's only pointless if I don't think it has a point. As it is, I want to be your friend. You're special to me. And I don't really care that you don't love me back. I'm getting past that. But I still want to be friends."
"You're holding onto the past," she says, taking a bite of the half of a burger that I handed her. "It isn't healthy, you know. Denial is bad for people."
"It won't hurt me," I reply, not looking at her. But then she puts her hand on my arm, and I have to.
Her eyes are full of aching solemnity. "Please, Mechanic, let me go."
"Femi," I whisper, not wanting to listen. My desire not to hear her words doesn't erase them from my mind.
She shakes her head, gaze still stuck with mine. Her hand is warm against my forearm. "No, Paris."
Femi. Love me.
No.
I look away, taking a deep breath. Her hand leaves my arm, and instead comes to rest on the side of my face.
When I look back, there are tears brimming in her eyes. They try to coax the tears out of my eyes, too, but I trap them, squeezing my eyelids shut.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice breaking. "I've been trying so hard. I have been, I promise. It just isn't working, Mechanic. I can't do it."
I open my eyes just for a moment. "It's okay," I say softly, and her hand leaves my face.
Instead of comforting me, she now attempts to comfort herself. She buries her face in her hands, sobs wracking her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, it's just, I can't." She slumps forward on the table, red hair going everywhere.
"It's okay," I reply. There are tears slipping down my face, and I'm just now noticing them. When did they start?
After a moment of feeling entirely helpless, I cross over to her side of the booth and gather her into my arms.
"It's okay, it's okay. I love you. My girl, this is why it isn't pointless. Who's going to love you if I don't? Who's going to hold you while you cry?"
She doesn't say anything, sobbing limply into my shoulder.
"Shh... Ah, my girl. You're going to be okay. It's all going to be okay. I'm an adult, I can handle my heart. You aren't hurting me so much that I can't handle it."
She grabs a handful of my shirt, taking a deep, gasping breath.
"I'll survive," I whisper.
She pulls away after a few more minutes, eyes puffy. "I still don't understand," she hiccups, "how you can stand to live like this."
"I'm not as damaged as you are," I offer. "I haven't been as mistreated as you have. It's a bit different, my girl."
For a moment, she doesn't say anything. Her eyes are down, focused on her hands that sit in her lap, her breathing is still rough and irregular.
"Femi."
She looks up when I say her name. "Give up on me. Please."
I shake my head, and don't stop. I bring up a sleeve to wipe my eyes. "No."
"I'm not worth this, Paris. I can't do it." Her tone begs for me to give up, her words beg for me to give up. Only her eyes don't entirely agree. Their message is different.
Save me.
"I will never give up on you," I say, voice creaking. "I love you. And I believe that maybe, somehow, you love me back."
"How can you hold onto hope like that?"
"I'm a mechanic," I answer, smiling a little. "I fix broken things. It's who I am."
She smiles back. "You can't fix me."
"But I'm going to try." I brush a tear off of her cheek. "You can't deny me that."
"Can't I?"
I try to calm my throbbing heart with a hand set just below it, taking deep breaths. Her eyes are full of unclear thoughts, like the colors, mixed up, not set in any one color or thought.
Her hand covers mine. "You do know that if you keep chasing me I can't meet you on the path behind, right?"
"I know," I reply.
"You know that I can't ever go back to how it was?"
I nod. "And it's okay."
"Is it?"
"I'll survive. Now finish your burger. We need to take a walk."
She smiles a tiny smile as I slip back to my side of the booth. "What do we need to go walk for?"
"Do I need a reason to want to walk around town with you?" I ask, sipping on my shake. "Except for the reason that I like to hang out with you?"
"Sounds kind of pointless," she says, eyeing me over the lip of her cup.
"I'm kind of a pointless man," I chuckle. "It's just the way it is. Especially where you're concerned. I very rarely have an actual point with you."
"Honestly?"
"No. I have points all of the time. I just want to talk to you."
She eats the last bite of her burger. "Okay."
I pick up my shake and take her hand, leaving a couple of quarters on the table as a tip for whoever has to clean it.
She holds my hand tightly in her warm fingers as we walk out of the store. She sips her milkshake.
"What did you want to talk about?" she asks after a while.
"Things," I reply, kind of unsure myself. "How hard is this for you?"
"Not very hard, unless you're crying. That makes it harder. Why?" She looks up, mouth twisted into an almost wry smile.
"Because I wanted to know. I don't want to hurt you."
Her feet move quickly over the cobblestones. "That's all you wanted to say?"
"No, not all."
I war with myself constantly. I war between wanting to take her face in my hands and kiss her until sense falls into nonsense, I want to keep my distance so that I don't scare her or upset her. I'm always warring between the desire to tell her everything I wish she would want to hear, and the knowledge that she would much rather just have a companion, or someone to paint.
Wars. Always with the wars.
"Then what do you want to say?" she asks at last.
"So many things. You have no idea."
She laughs. "Don't get cheeky with me, Mechanic."
"I'm not cheeky. I was just telling you."
She looks up and laughs again, an impish look in her eyes. "You're cheeky. No, don't argue. I think it's my turn to talk."
"Shoot," I implore, giving our hands a light swing.
"Well," she begins, licking her lips. Her eyes drop to the ground beneath her and stay there. "I just need to tell you that while I don't return your feelings, I do enjoy your company. And I can't find it in myself to stay away. So whatever you're doing, you aren't failing entirely. And, um, my mixed feelings are real. I don't know what to think, or how to behave. I want to feel, I think, but I can't. I'm just very confused, actually. Do you understand?"
I nod slowly, turning these things over in my mind. I think I knew all of this. I felt like I already knew all of this.
My own suspicions turning out to be correct, I suppose. That's all it is.
"So I miss you. I do. I just don't feel that thing, you know? I don't know what's wrong."
"It's alright, though," I say at last, taking a deep breath.
We're almost to my house, and she pulls her hand out of mine like she wants to run away.
"You leaving?"
She nods, exhaling shakily. "I think so."
"Do you want me to walk you?"
She shakes her head. "No, I can do it myself."
"Are you sure?"
She smiles a little, tipping her head to the side as she puts a few feet between us. "I'm sure."
"Okay." I study her as she stands there, one foot perched on its toes, the other wide spread, steady. Her smile is fading, but the bright color isn't. Her eyes lock with mine when I reach them, full of so much thought and mixed feeling.
She smiles again. "Bye, Mechanic."
"Bye."
And as unexpectedly as I came upon her earlier, that's how expectedly she goes away from me. Like a puff of smoke from a fire that died before it was born.
Femi.