Mr. Brandolini's Assignment

vii. tetra master

vii. tetra master

‘Ah. Smell that balmy beach air.’

 I stepped over a half-rotted carcass of a fish lying in the sand. Next to me, Jurgen skipped along with Ella the tetra kite draped around his shoulders like a violently pink feather boa.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Absolutely lovely.’

 He ignored the resignation in my voice (which stemmed from being awake barely four hours after I fell asleep, on a Sunday morning, to watch a skinny boy fly a kite) (okay, so maybe I didn’t mind that last bit as much). Perky as usual, he’d even had time to shower and stuff an oblong buttered toast into his mouth while I was still almost-swallowing my mouthful of Listerine in the bathroom. He was re-wearing his Bing Crosby t-shirt, which I appreciated. We were now trudging towards the looming Bay of Bengal, which was fiercely waving and crashing in the strong wind: perfect kite-flying weather, according to Jurgen (to me, it was perfect staying-in-bed-and-going-to-sleep weather). At another distant end of the beach fishermen were dragging their catamarans out of the water.

 ‘I could cry,’ Jurgen said, when we were stepping on firm, dampish sand. ‘I’m so excited.’

 I put my hands on my hips and watched as he unraveled his roll of maanja, bouncing up and down.

 ‘You’re still using the glass maanja,’ I observed.

 ‘Yep.’

 ‘We could get arrested.’

 He considered this for a few seconds as he got Ella ready. Then he straightened up.

 ‘Leena, I’m white. They wouldn’t arrest me.’

 ‘You look white,’ I correct. ‘And don’t prance around with that attitude, young man.’

 He waved me off. ‘There are no cops around. Okay, help me.’

 ‘I’m just going to stand back,’ I said.

 ‘Wait – just hold her straight. I gotta make sure all her wings are properly aligned.’

 I obliged and kept Ella still while Jurgen prodded around her delicate wire structure, murmuring endearments and encouragements.

 ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he cooed, straightening her topmost wing. ‘Yes, you are. You’re gonna do great today. I’m so proud of you. Oh, you look lovely, you’re gonna be just fine.’

 I watched him, focusing on the shiny red tip of his nose.

 ‘You know they say that women are more attracted to men who are good with kids, right? Because like, biologically they see him as a potential mate who could care for their future offspring, or whatever.’

 Jurgen glanced up at me. ‘Yes…?’

 ‘Well,’ I said stiffly. ‘That is not untrue.’

 He blinked. ‘I have a feeling you’re trying to compliment me right now but your emotional apathy is not letting me understand how.’

 ‘I am attracted to you,’ I elucidated.

 He didn’t respond immediately.

 ‘You are attractive when you tinker with your kites,’ I elucidated further.

 His face had cracked into a huge, goofy grin.

 ‘Do I make your ovaries tingle?’

 ‘Not when you’re making that face and saying that sentence,’ I muttered, rolling my eyes.