The Brighter Side of Life

Chapter 10

For a minute she looked at me like I had some sort of agenda. Her face was calculating as she stared at the greasy bag, probably wondering if it was poisoned, or something. Working in the kitchen since the start of summer had told me that in the right amount, it was worse than poison. But it wouldn't hurt to eat a bit of it at midnight, especially if it came with conversation.

"What's your deal?" She asked suspiciously. Her pretty eyes were narrowed accusingly.

I responded with a simple smile, "work always give us the spares at the end of the day, and believe it or not, I'm sick of the taste of McDonalds." I eyed the bag warily, the thought of actually eating it making me reel away in disgust. I always had the good sense to bring it home, however. Everyone at the Home were suckers for free food, McDonalds being no exception.

"Go on," I prompted. "I haven't done anything to it. You're hungry. Eat." I pushed the bag towards her on the table.

For a minute she stood silently, weighing her options. Then the hunger must have outweighed everything else, because she took a calm seat at the table (as if she was restraining herself from pouncing) and pulled the bag towards her. She pulled it open, and took out the large burger. Then the fries were on the table. I took the liberty of finding ketchup from the cupboard and grabbing some juice from the fridge. She had already started eating when I set them down in front of her.

"Thank...you," she said uncertainly, taking a sip of the juice and squeezing a fair amount of ketchup on the cardboard that held the chips. She was the complete opposite to me. While she kept the ketchup in its designated corner, I squeezed the ketchup all over my fries. Weird.

I sat across from her and just waited for a minute. She didn't look at anything but the food for a long time. The atmosphere was calm, but slightly tense. As if both of us wanted to say something but didn't know how. Mostly because I didn't actually know what to say to her now that I could actually say something. Days of trying and hoping and thinking and feeling and now she was right in front of me and I had no idea what to lead with.

"So," I began, trying to look casual by sipping some juice I had poured for myself. "How are you?"

Our first conversation and it was going to begin with the most basic conversation starter known to man. The brain really is not good under pressure. I feel like I will forever remain an example of this.

She chuckled at my question, and I felt my face flush slightly. I knew she wasn't laughing at me, but it didn't stop me from feeling like she was.

She swallowed and took another sip of juice. "I'm good." She was still smiling.

I waited for her to elaborate but no elaboration came. "That's.. Uh, good." I replied instead. A small silence settled like a thin blanket of snow.

"My question, before," she said. "I'm not satisfied with the answer. Tell me the real reason why you keep on talking to me. Do you feel sorry for me?"

She said it factually, but I could tell that that really wasn't what she wanted to hear.

I sighed. Was she that unused to simple friendship? Were my advancements that foreign to her? I hadn't known anyone who would be suspicious of a potential friend, especially when you're new in a strange place and feeling alone.

"No, I don't feel sorry for you. I just want to know more about the new girl. Sue me." I replied normally. There was no way I would tell her that I wanted to investigate my thoughts and my dream and everything I'd been feeling ever since her arrival.

She still looked suspicious, but less so. This made me breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable.

"Besides," I declared, stealing one of her final chips. "The real question is, why do you deflect all my advances?"

For a second she looked outraged that I'd had the audacity to steal her food, but within seconds she merely shrugged, probably thinking that it was only just - I was the one that had given her the food in the first place (In all honesty, I'd only stolen it to see her reaction).

"Your friends are weird," she answered, narrowly avoiding the question. "The one with the Afro. I have Maths with him. He's always talking about you very loudly. Apparently you saved some guy's life one time."

Having no previous knowledge of this, I started to laugh. Of course, Dante had a plan of his own. He couldn't just let nature run its course. He had to interfere.

"Why are you laughing?" She asked quizzically. A small smile played on her lips.

"Oh, no reason. I just really love my weird friends." I sighed dreamily. "What about you?"

By this time she'd finished her food, and was neatly packing everything back into the original bag. She spoke as she tidied. "What exactly is it that you want to know?"

I racked my brain for any answer. Again, it failed me. "Uh, I dunno. Anything you want to tell me, really."

She suddenly let go of the greasy bag and looked me straight in the eye. It was the first time she'd ever done this, and I hadn't the faintest idea of what to do. She looked me straight in the eye and held my gaze and all I could see were her dark brown eyes protected by her curled eyelashes. The more I looked, the more I could see what a pretty shade they were. They were the kind that look almost black at the first glance, but once you take the time to look - and I mean, really look - you see that they are the prettiest shade of brown. The kind of brown that no-one had the good sense to name. With flecks of even darker brown in them - almost black. I managed to absorb this in the ten seconds before she looked away.

"Look..." She began, slightly unnerved. She wasn't the only one. I'd had to remind myself that it was actually her that looked at me first. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, but I'm not going to be here for very long. It wouldn't be... Practical for me to make new friends, and then leave, you know? It's better to just stay away so that we both don't have to lose anyone."

I rolled my eyes fondly. There was no way that I was buying what she was selling. People walk into the home all the time, convinced that it's only temporary until their family finds their feet. And they're always disappointed to know that their stay has been extended by a few days. Then a few months. Then, before they know it, they start to think of The Home as their actual home. "And you don't think that maybe a few friends will make your, uh, temporary stay more pleasant?"

She seemed surprised, but stood her ground. "Nope. I've made it this far without anyone, and I'm fine."

I nodded sympathetically, taking her now-full bag from in front of her and turning away to put it into the bin. "In my experience, a life without other people is pretty lonely." I placed my foot onto the pedal, and watched the lid fly open. I did this slowly, perhaps to give both myself and herself time to digest the information. I was actually talking to her. Ayah Abasi, the girl that - in Dante's words - I'd silently pined for ever since she'd come. But there was something else that had run through my brain. I'd never actually seen her with anyone else. Whenever I actually did see her, she was always alone, and in her words she was fine with it - used to it even. Maybe she did need my help, like my dream about saving her implied. She needed a friend. No-one deserved to go through life alone.

I was dropping the McDonalds bag into the bin when she spoke again.

"I'll see you at breakfast, Reece."

And I turned round and she was gone again. She had a habit of doing that. Leaving when things were just starting to get interesting.

As I was putting our cups into the sink to wash them up, two very important things popped into my mind.

Number one, was that I hadn't actually told her my name, which suggested that maybe she had heard Dante's babble about me. Not heard, but listened perhaps?

And number two - and this one is the icing on the cake - she said she'd see me again. At breakfast. This would be the first breakfast she'd ever had in the home, as long as she'd been there. And she wanted to have it with me.

I was about to scream before I remembered that it was twelve o'clock in the morning.